Monthly Archives: February 2014

The Void

11 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by in Alcohol, Alcoholism, Poems, Truth

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Fear it or cruise it, the void is
life without living, or so it appears—
so it appears.

F.E.A.R. they told me was False
Evidence Appearing Real, the closer
you get to something the less it is
what you thought it was.

Embrace the truth.

Nothing. The bridge to everything.
Stillness… LORD, read the Tao Te Ching.
Ironic that the disturbed choose on
the way home to pick up liquor to
avoid the eternal internal look, we
take “breaks” from the whirlwind with
higher power whirlwinds.

We stand above the muddied pool and
throw rocks at it ‘til it matches our
brain, unstable and rocking.

The void, trust it? Shall we come home
just to silence? Seems a welcome mat
for negative chatter, self-doubt, the cycle
of stuff I’ve always avoided…

Bring a lantern, trust the void

Poem:

11 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by in Poems, Spiritual, Spiritual Awakening

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“Halfway There”

Love beautifully bound, truth in tethers
winding ‘round the Earth, orbit after orbit
coming to the willing.

Open minds receive rewards. Late night,
the beer tasted good in fancy suits, gonna
“make money” because that was the way
living was presented.

We dream a new dream—but first, must
fall the old falls down the drain of superficial
success, the other side unsure.

We make the drop, deciding present company
trustworthy, it’s okay to let the cat out the
twenty-two year old bag, “I’m unhappy!”

A spiritual awakening the other side, this
was it, the walls come down, from superhuman
to human, from great to human, Will Rogers’
“great to be great but greater to be human,”
Brian L.’s Hazelden pamphlet, perfectionism
in the rearview mirror at least a real reason
to be alive!!

I must see this other side, this chance I take,
they tell me I’m all right, they relate, twelve
steps to freedom, go with me I wish I had
this before I turned twenty-three, a virgin
‘til thirty-three, gosh the truth!

Huh, the sad keys remembering, sad only
because I missed so much in not knowing.
I guess we are really where we are supposed
to be, there’s no other way, the sea is the sea,
the North beat the South, and I have
the second half of my life to live out my dream.

Pasadena Book Fair:

09 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by in Literature, Love

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History’s Literary Ship

I’m living at a book fair in Pasadena,
or am I aboard a seafaring vessel, circa
1715?

Languages are spoken, some with
different accents, some completely
different from mine, I’m on a ship
of knowledge heading for history’s
proud preservation!!

Come back, go forward, take these
documents with you, they’re ours.
“Monuments Men” in theaters, our
preservers in cubicles of event centers,
buying and selling history, these books
remind us of… us!!

What it was, is like, the maps in color
printing presses abuzz through the ages,
men and women’s whole lives dedicated
for us… for us!!

So that we could remember, for it is like
Boorman’s Merlin said: “the doom of
men that they forget.”

Women? Delve in, I think it was Sims Reed,
some booth I saw by chance, a dance of
forgotten women poets. Unless…

Forgotten, unless! Here we are, show me
more the ladies could write!! It’s not, then,
that I’m a bad guy sourcing out inspiration
finding it in Shakespeare, Frost and Longfellow
only.

I’m a product of my age, so see what I see,
the ladies that wrote had a hard time
seeing the light, their work diminished in
the 1820’s, unless…

Unless!!

We dust them off, what’s more we print
and reprint, we see it on YouTube and
Wikipedia, but don’t forget!

Don’t forget!!

There was an original work once upon
a time. Go to your local book fairs
and shops, find the source, revel in history,

This glorious history sea fairing treasure
chest, this glimpse. Ah!

I rest

09 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by in Mental Exercise, Poems

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Stuck in Traffic

Between thoughts and actions, the body
reacts to what it can and cannot do. Sleep
and peace requires effort and courage, silence
won on dangerous brushes with fires and
insanity, noise and illegal activity.

Up and down the mire we think, throwing
old ideas into the pyre like certain foods
and certain drink, just when we think we know
our day, it changes, our other half requires,
there’s some unrest, you cannot kick feet
up yet—

Stuck in traffic between ideas and thoughts,
actions and certain pops; the day itself of
signs and visions, one course like the skier
finds down a mountain of gold yielding more
metal. We all climb a mountain in order to
rest at the top, write a song to sing it later
but at first for self-satisfying rhymes.

Truth is an angry bitch, will bite you squarely
on the rear unknown to itself it’s a fire
spreading to renew the hillside and its
flowers, all we portray the devastation caused
by gripping pulling flames.

“We come in peace,” they exclaim, gobbling
up men and women and their games. Their
peace, our war, one person’s game another’s
reality, more pits of the yin and yang
and at the same time more high heights.

My day is falling pleasantly and thoughtfully,
legal and true as I write—

A September leaf as I write.

for Sophie:

09 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by in Weird

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Falling

Family are those who do the will
of God, Jesus prepared the way for the
fallen, fallen himself, falling with man
and womankind away from physical
gardens and outer prosperity into the
broader earthly heaven of perfect effort.

Down the valley, skipping rocks, looking
up we spot the reason, a gold goal deep
ahead in horizons made by internal looks
and fortitude. Brave is the focused soldier,
fortified by night we escape the knowns
of day to reinvent and dream. Going down
farther, falling, reversing, we take our
youthful chance, a foray as choices yield into
today’s triumph, tomorrow’s failure.

We are sure we are one thing, then wake
up to a new set of weather and sun.

The game can be fun, not knowing, asking,
waiting for results of work, hoping.

Meanwhile there’s a dark black hole full
of love and goodness, we’re told, and we go
in. “Hairy,” we remark to a neighbor as we
descend.

“Indeed,” the friend replies, sucked down
now dead. What a thrilling thing to be in
between, the lies we tell children are not
meant but are by God seen.

If prosperity we never find, may we at least
keep the poverty that becomes smiles,
relatable to the child, who knows only now
and the dream of “how”

Book Poem:

08 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by in Books, Literature, Poems

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Book Power

As Micawber laments the lack of fortune
and growing debt, Mr. Dick warms, waits
and shakes another hand.

Heart flames stoked by books’ power to
gather. The world is waiting, too, hoping
it might hear something from you, be it
a poem or a book, a sound or song,
Shakespeare’s running brooks, sung melodies

Giving power from one to another, the reason
for change to grow another flower.

Dickens stops short of debtors jail to relate
his father’s tale, woe and horror, but spirit
all around, spirit all around—

The Poor, Jesus’ blessed and meek, soldiers
and slaves of the earth, witty engines of merit
unaware of their wisdom, Shakespeare’s clown
unaware and true.

The jack of all trades is master of none, one
the unifying number providing peace to
the confused. We cannot do it all, Bottom
from the night’s dream’s got me laughing
as he falls, the ultimate ass.

God bless the book and its writer, the attempter
at teaching dodging tempters and cheating,
God loves a good book, save them from the
Nazis have a fair, keep the books shining
bright on shelves or words on brains
the pages for perusing not burning let’s kiss
the stanza that delves into my heart
like a razor into depression’s gaze.

I knew a heart for anything once upon a time—
it was every child the world over, unfiltered
joy and wonder worldwide. Adults trample
the true words making children king. We never
got to be kids ourselves maybe, we never
got to just be!!

Give them the vote immediately, children
who read. Tax not the willing, a government
of the people shall accept whatever the people
want to give.

Voluntary taxes, yes, and so just let us live!
If a road then does not get built, I’ll know to
give more next time, but this push and pull
between men and women, this hand out and
grabbing must stop.

Paid government officials? Get a real job. Or,
call it all irrelevant get a real God.

Truth is as truth was: a dream. Quoting myself
is not always what it seems, Dick and Micawber
shaking hands at last, the economist failing
as another set of days pass.

Dick, a total moron, the hope for all because
of his spirit and love, books a segway into the
soul of what was, is and is to come

Lezak Honored:

08 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by in Olympic, Olympics, Poems

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Lezak

Chasing Lezak I couldn’t help but notice
French at his back. There’s no way he touched
first, no way.

Yes he did.

Growing up, to me a Gaucho, always up and
down dreaming for gold in ways no one could know.

The coach and he at Barbara butted, until Jason
came forward with his own plan, started to win.

No one could see gold better, he was anchor to
a swim that made Phelps richer, incredible
unbelievable, impossible he came from behind
to beat the Frenchman talking trash a day before,
huge and on top the sport’s sprinting world—

Except for that day, that race, Lezak put it all
into one swim. He started slightly behind, and that
was enough to convince experts ALREADY convinced
that this race was lost, go for silver.

In fact, Rowdy couldn’t on paper find a way to
see American glory that day in August, 2008. Lezak
himself, interviewed after the race spoke of some
technical moves, but lots of disbelief, and “I
don’t know” how’s…. Phelps the uber-star, used
a similar word, “unbelievable.”

Believe it. Testimony to fact that on any given
day in any sport, even any life, when the world
seems closing ‘round in certain loss, the sun
can shine, you inspiration find on your proud
way to being Longfellow’s hero in the strife

College Love

08 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by in Love, Poems

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Wow, the spring of dreams, Freshman year

Spring quarter out of the blue, skating in
on roller skates, I’m not joking, she rolled
into my life!!

Kristin, so cute looking eight feet tall, riding
in rolling into art history class, unbelievable
like an EMF song. Life changes. You think you
know your direction and it changes.

The chase was on, she was an athlete too
I’d find out. By chance from art history where
I never spoke with her, we met again in
Environmental Studies 122. Sorry, we did not
meet there, I was shy, just admiring from afar.

Then that day, she icing shin splints from track
team running, me icing sore knees from volleyball
rolling. The training room hook-up, I said
“Hello.”

“Are you in ES-122?” “Yeah!” “Me too.” smile.
We were friends before we met, same age, both
from similar schools, at the same place same time
blonde and beachy and athletic and dreaming.

“Let’s meet before the midterm and study.” Okay,
my dream was on its way. I had never succeeded before
where girls or women are concerned, but after all
I had only been a man legally for about six months.

We studied, we laughed, we studied, we laughed.
I got something out of her hair one night at her
place, and the calling was for a kiss, but I could
not. I could not. I could not for the age old problem
afflicting many an alcoholic, many a child of
divorce, many a shy folks world-wide.

I lacked God, I lacked courage, my hope back then
to get drunk enough to tell a girl my feelings.

I could not tell Kristin until years and years later,
how I felt, and how I feel now.

She was perfect. I’m grateful for her, the
friendship we had the laughs—

Only regret I was not man enough
to take the chance

You know, for Kids:

07 Friday Feb 2014

Posted by in Children, Inspirational, Kids, Poems

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“Smile Forever”

Things will happen,
good and bad times, but
the day is long enough for both.

I love the wind, change—
the softness of days free of
doubt or worry.

God is spoken of in church
and I see nature’s beautiful
sky and horizon,

I think we’re all here for
a pretty good reason.
Things come together,

Seem made for each other,
dreams and waking time
combine,

I’m so glad to have another
day to think and write
and draw and pray.

Somewhere others are sighing,
writing and reading,
reciting or singing

And I think I hear them,
because I’m smiling now
despite hard times;

My day is long I let in the
tough, it passes and like
waves returns to the sea.

Sometimes I could swear
God has made this world
just for me…

So I could smile forever
*********

“Just Today”

There are no others
Some dream of futures,
Daughters, sons, brothers—

That’s okay to dream
Keep it that and Never
Drift long in worry…

Pray it away, like the sun
That sets on a glorious Day!

Dream, Pray, Tell Worry
Of things to come to
go, like the sun, away

So the Stars can shine,

Clean the Sky, Get Ready….

Another Day.

********

“The Starfish of the Sea”

They call me… the Starfish of the Sea

Some days, Whole days I sit at the bottom
of the ocean.
I rise with the tide, I’m not sure—

It’s the Motion

I’d say I was tall… Wide
Something to describe what I
am inside without all the Emotion.

But I can’t; I guess I’m wishy-washy
full of wishes, dreams and horse pucky.

I’d sing a song if I had one
But instead wait to be fed by ocean’s bottom—
We’re not unlike the tide itself, up and
down MOTION—

Full of emotion. Starfish cry, too,
my tears like a bucket in drops of rain,
one two three;

Saltwater the answer to prayers,
Sayers saying too much until

Bright, enlightened by the Sun
and God they say something

RELATABLE

I’m a song in an ocean…
Not very dateable!

I’d love to cough and get your attention…

Can u really run from the tide,
the day on your beach I with you
awaken?

Smile… It’s a pretty picture (Snap!)

On your beach I’d love to teach
Even if dried out my heart Stops its beat,

I sing and brighten beaches all the same…

I shine eternally in Sunshine or Rain.

I’m the Starfish of the Sea;
They call me that ‘cause I’m pretty
and deep and not enough people
can see me.

I’m done with my song, now—I have to go back;
to the deep blue sea… see? It’s my
mom and dad they want to see me like
yours you…
IS THAT SO BAD?

Family are those who do the will of God.

Remember that.
********

“The Fruits of Hard Labor”

When the day is done
you like to look back and think you did
something, something good.

Whether for others, yourself, your
house, your mom, your dad?

I dusted, I shot a basket, we won
the game, we lost the game
but tried hard… and you
know what? We are improving…

I traded with my friend, I talked
with my friends about my
teacher at recess, I ate the
food my parents made for me,
I think my teacher is nice—

So far so good, maybe life
is just living the best day you can
live…. Believe and work hard,

Then when you look back you see
a building, not of bricks only
but of friendships and creativity.

Poem:

06 Thursday Feb 2014

Posted by in Inspirational

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Rock The Stars

The town tryer goes out, does his best,
taking advantage of every penny found
in cracks of couches.

Rock the stars.

Come in first, show what you can do,
or lose and come back next year fired up,
it’s up to you.

Rock the stars.

Make something out of nothing, your time
to shine is now. Give what you can it may
be enough, and as often discussed:

Enough is as good as a feast—

Rock the stars!!!