The Psychology of the Human Condition

The answers exist,

wait, not today,

perhaps later in the evening,

some cathartic moment,

praying for an epiphany.

 

The heart stops and the mind cannot compete

we are a solid lot of indifference

dependent upon the sunlight,

rainbows strike a nerve

coupled by nostalgia or endearment

to a moment,

the moment

when in that circle of compelling delight

we did experience,

did evolve,

would resolve the questions in our mind.

simple logic, sweet emotions,

beyond the scope of tearing down our own

idyllic beauty.

The Will to Fight

Was a day

would a shadow

be a muse

could satisfy,

ever loom

cast a pall

slow remember

with little why.

~

In a breeze

follow desire

beauty is time

lights a fire

when all

around our lives

seem daunting

love does remain.

~

A source indeed

such is freedom

her spirit

waits …

allow a dream

slow to rise

become manifest

a silent utterance.

~

We do contain such is passion

to love, to want, an embrace.

Standing On The Edge

The job is done,

there is a light ahead,

a bit of peace,

planning for a soft landing

the harsh reality of this

reason

our own examined purpose

seems less imperative

 

Watching the rains today

falling forever

a reminder of a constant

unlike the streaking sunlight

of a gorgeous spring day,

rains are fallible

they leave a mark,

a damp reminder

of what is what may be

what the afterward might see.

 

Could it be so simple

as watching a spring storm

cover the earth around us

allowing life to grow

when inside

the mind seems to seek

any obstacle to suggest

our lives that matter

are lives of little …

or is it part of some

chemical imbalance

like the heads say,

a reasoning that could be

a wild hair

rather than a logical

synapse that suggests

the true meaning of perfection

is

a quiet response

to the mystique we know to be

the human condition

We Belong To Each Other

We wonder sometimes,

a natural scheme,

I mean, a dream,

the right or wrong

of knowing,

of deciding.

I speak to you,

your response,

I imagine,

while perhaps

yours,

that visual reminder

might cross paths

with another memory

some other reason,

a previous need to

understand,

and yet,

in all of this

confusion,

remains the same tie,

the bond,

the reaction

to once in awhile

simply

knowing each other

as similar beings

with different paths,

only the same.

In Respect to Anger

A friend of mine

told me the truth today,

said in a matter of fact way,

you are too angry man,

life is too short.

I paused,

put away my defenses

began to wonder about my

starting words,

and came to the conclusion,

I’m always

this or that or why or because or they

yet somehow I’m never too me.

 

Life is too short,

life is too sweet

life is a carnival

and yet we never quite

make it to the

presidential suite

 

Instead we look for someone else

to take the blame,

and so standing in the parking lot

tonight,

I felt my eyes did well with tears

realized my exhaustion has a purpose

allows me to come to terms

with who I am what time I have

life is a carnival after all,

we should remember just how to

enjoy the ride.

Look Closely If You Can

IMG_0851

At a quick glance we might call sweet shelter

the homes hold hope and prayer and a safety

for everyone inside, security

the temps suggest a different manner.

 

Across the city another enclave

of soul seeker human condition airs

indifference as a blizzard ensnares

their grip on surviving a city cave.

 

Two worlds drawn as one to both be witness

a record breaking month of snow fallen

on a city left homeless and sullen

while neighborhoods are defined by address.

 

Look closely at the eyes quiet release

of pain of sorrow of some hope for peace.

The Words That Speak

I read a poem today,

talked about saving a life,

that words could

in such a remarkable way,

cause someone to

rethink their moment,

that impulse,

the frightened reality

the edge.

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word

 

We might easily write about death,

oh the beauty of their lives,

the regret of time,

the nature of loneliness

how simple it is

when described

yet complicated when

lost.

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word

 

How does someone decide

to listen

what is the correct cadence

of wanting a wandering soul

to find their way

inside the mystique of

questioning

the human condition.

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word

 

I stood along the railroad tracks

watched the lights brighten

the clicking of the clack,

the deafening horn,

I watched the light of tomorrow

suddenly set in the western sky,

and then I stepped away …

 

I wondered about the beauty of a word.