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

Counting On Television

An episode of controversy,

a young woman,

lost child,

heartbreak exposed inside the elements of a

premise,

a drama that unfolds,

and the audience,

the me,

you, the neighbor, the office worker,

we all watched the same movie,

he characters we all connect with,

and we all cried,

only for the moment,

until the next commercial for

Axe deodorant

let us deaden our senses

only for a moment,

while the intro music

brought us back quickly

in our voyeuristic manner,

observing the pain of others

fictional characters

allow us to imagine

this isn’t real,

cannot happen in our world,

satisfied we watch the news

the parallels of which

we never really decide to connect

the denial that creates a divisive

separation from reality

to the quiet illusion of a

television episode.

 

Next series please,

still wanting to escape

my own quiet dismal episode.

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.

‘Slowly Melting Snowy Vistas’

IMG_1073

An idea,

a visual reminder

to help find footing

rather than wallow

in what might feel lost,

our lives precious,

imagine only

nature is a cycle

eternal while forever.

 

Once while in wonder

reminded by favor

a slow descent in time

while all around

lives experience

a monotony of time

wishing purpose

witness a warming

allows our lives

to know change

always a measure

the melting horizon

might we seek

a cleansing challenge.

 

When the dial

shall evolve

daylight turns to

a mysterious shroud

where our eyes

opaque shadows

awaits our return

only to discover

with the rising sun

earth has begun

a new journey

again, spectacular

beyond occasion

this is our next day,

a blossoming spring.

 

Purposeful vistas

do slip away,

only to offer

sweet reminders

how along the way

our lives interact

in as magical way

might the landscape

of this mortality

give reason we

can know

the familiar

as well

as confusion

in a continuum

we have not

lost our way.

 

 

My Personal Insomnia

Step into my world

a man

frazzled yet still

a remarkable breather

able to stand

to negotiate

appreciate some aspect

of life.

 

Not perhaps until the day

for tonight,

his life remains behind

invisible bars

that only allow him

to remind,

to replay,

to re-evaluate

and always the same thing

every time

no solution,

only another night,

he won’t sleep

he might rather weep.

 

The insomniac on so many

levels,

this one though has a simple

solution,

stop checking for the same outcome

the clicking, the wandering, the wishing,

an inevitable drain

in the human psyche

 

until finally he might realize

tomorrow is another day,

oh my

life really is a sad cliche.

Recalling Purpose

edge

Took a walk in the wilderness,

a forest to disappear in,

looked about me at all the pine,

the desert soil allows

eyes to drift as far as the edge

a world beyond me I’m told to

 

forget.

 

I’m here to be a sightseer,

to breathe in the mountain

air that raises my spirits

beyond the normalcy

far enough away

to help me perhaps

 

forget.

 

Tomorrow I will look upon

a landscape that stretches

the eye to forever,

a spiritual energy

so beyond personal recall,

meant to help us all

 

forget.

 

When soon our lives return

the better option

might be to find something

new. A purpose suggests

our lives have meaning,

we have a world we easily

 

forget.

 

Glance at the morning sky, the mellow

sound of birds in rainfall, we can never

 

forget.