gliding

gliding

Monday, September 16, 2013

The Open Door

you will have to gather me into your arms
as I collapse
in great sorrow and relief
the emotion too strong
you must be my strength
too long, too much to bear
you understand
you will be there
some think coming home should be easy
they don't know me
as you lift me away
from battles, memories, joys,
family and friends
you will be gentle
experts in your field
I want to be healed
so,
do not be alarmed
I am in arms that are strong
if I should disappear
without a trace
don't call the police
if I vanish right from under your nose
try to open your mind
to the many possibilities
I could have been gone already
time crumbling, collapsing,
not important anymore
as the arms that catch me
and the open door

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Washed Away



their importance fades
washed away
sand castles humble
before the wave
their formations
mud puddles
sink holes
rubble
nature the artist
the liberator
water making rocks smooth
round
sculpted
left out in the sun to bake
cracked with the heat
of time
drips each wet drop
rains
a witness to terror
on a planet removed
for whose amusement
has life been made
bleeding but not dead
hanging
smugness wiped clean
the slate
storms of rage
too late for remorse
the tolling of the bell
freedom for the horse
those kept in a contrived hell
worse than imaginable
humanity obscene
hypocrite mean
washed away
pristine

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Memories of the Future



Life-is it a dream?
and if it is, what kind of dream
A nightmare
I am losing interest
outside of me
while a glorious, most spectacular state
awaits within
striving to maintain itself
stubborn and stumbling
the nightmare thrives
on emotion, mind, you, us, me
holding it up with a trillion thoughts
a million tears,
but we count in years.

I am a pioneer
sailing through these lands
forging a path
to a brand new world
a world that has never existed
except in my memories of the future
counter to the consensus reality
a danger to the present system
I sail, with each wave
amnesia lifting,
revealing the alien I am
to this dream
with longing and unfolding
my compass,
carrying the good news within

the seed of the new birth
change, a wind at my back
as the fires of chaos
rage and the nightmare fades
I keep drifting, farther and
farther away
on watch, expectant,
jubilant, the shores of home
will smile brightly
seeing I have returned
weary, I have unlearned
with a hand full of ashes
the nightmare burned
I step ashore awake, embraced
by all I have earned

Friday, April 19, 2013

The Last Tree

The last standing tree in this community
Stands in my backyard
A tall majestic beauty
Lonely, we call her pine
She won’t speak to us anymore
Taking a vow of silence or perhaps
So deep in sorrow she hears no one and nothing
But sometimes
When the wind blows
She sings solo

How I miss the ancient choir

Cold structures stare blankly
Made of corpses
They give no life
They are not to blame
Motionless, no visible sway
They play no music
Apart from a loose tile
Hitting a B flat
Again and again
Prodded by a petulant angry wind
Life moves even the lifeless

Words

words are sharp
like switch blades
pungent like flowers
useless lazy bones
loaded dynamite

words are misleading
like flirts
wise like wizards
empty packets
inspirational leaders

words are dreary
like death
sailing like birds
happy clowns
crazy words

snake like slippery
like poems
never silent
never golden
never home

Old Women

There was a dream forest in her head
Strong and tall dreams
Old and rooted
Always there to give shelter
Climb and pretend
Way up high in dream land

Some dreams came true
Only to be taken away
One blow (razor sharp emotion)
Others slow death (wood rot, change)
Endlessly wandering halls sleeping
Lost and searching

Now the dream forest is bare
Except for the ghosts
Playing their tricks and life the artist
Painting its shadows
Drawing her towards
The gallery within


Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Robert Frost I Hear You



the road less traveled
is a brave road,
lonely at times,
but when all is said and done,
one that is remembered,
in the ancient hall of records,
gold incorruptible pages.

the road less traveled
endures anger,
on the sidelines,
abuse and mocking,
an ugly collective face,
you must ignore,
they know not what they do.

the road less traveled
is a good road,
always remember this as you go,
clearing the overgrowth,
with mighty swords a flame,
dropping the chains,
never in vain, never in vain.

the road less traveled,
is a narrow road, like a camel,
through the eye of a needle,
you meet a lone traveler,
and then others,
working together, a crowd forms,
your pace quickens, the needle breaks, your heart sings.

the road less traveled
is destiny calling,
you cannot turn away,
so many in darkness depending,
on an opening,
a path out of blood lust,
falling breaking soul essence lost.

the road less traveled
is a necessary road,
for those who cannot bear cruelty,
stupidity, and bullies,
no matter how beaten down, shoes need to be filled,
no matter how,
the road needs travelers.

the road less traveled
will eventually blossom,
with fanfare and joy,
celebration and congratulation,
the prodigal ones once marooned,
soon to be at the banquet table,
smiling and reflecting on what they have done.

the road less traveled
is a road with sun,
wind, rain, moonlight, stars,
water for the weary, happy scars
angel guides gliding in stride,
always ready, ever by, standing strong,
for the winning side.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

My Funeral


 

My Funeral

 

Saving pennies for my funeral

Broken teeth, trinkets, casket

Wreath, war medals,

A feast for the guests

A good sound system

A canoe, pictures

All my favorite tunes

Instead of words

A cease fire

Only roses of every color

Silver and gold poems

Oh yes and the animals can come