It Is Hard To:

It is Hard to Hear
Harsh words
Without any loving cushion.
Sad eyes
With nothing to look forward to.
Backstabbing confusion
When all you wanted
Was a partner.
It is harder to see
The end
Of what you thought
Would be forever.
The truth rises
Out of the ashes
And tomorrow vanishes.
Alone with someone
Is the worst
Kind of alone.
Realizing you chose
Poorly
Impulsive to the whims of youth.
Now, it is so hard to pay
Back yourself
Step out off the chewing gum heels
Stretching and snapping denial.
It is Hard to be human
Perhaps, just a creature of this earth
Alone in a jungle
Of colliding souls,
Aimless and awkward
Aging ungracefully.
The wheels
Are fighting with the brakes,
Antagonized and taunted
By what you thought you told yourself.

Raised To Be Food

Just imagine how your brain would be
Knowing you are just raised to be food,
Imagine how your heart would beat
Already dead with spirit defeat.

What kind of an environment
What kind of energy
Emerges and converges
With the life style
Of born to be food.

Fleshy, flesh
Quivers with adrenaline
Filling the glands
Any moment now
Any moment anytime
The kidneys are on overdrive

Born to be food
No room for understanding
An object of the ultimate possessiveness
Drowning in the tick tock in the inner ear
Knowing and dummying down
To visceral numbness

The day has already
Come and gone
Each day the same
Tightening of the muscles
Hoping it is not true
But there remains
Just too much evidence.

Poetry

Poetry
Sings like a song
Filled with sounds
And rhythms
Of pitch and base

Surprise annunciations
Pauses and starts
Emphasizing some words
Hardly hushing others

Poetry is for ears to hear
Images to imagine
The taste of truth
And the reflection of the times
At least the times of the poet.

It is romantic and sweet
Emotional and impassioning
Time consuming
With absorbed attentiveness
Demanded of others

The words are short, brief
Long in image
Big of color
Gloomy of Rembrandt

Poetry is a gift
One may receive happily
Or warily
Knowing it is morally based
With strong intentions toward the receiver

A cry for understanding
A different point of view
Sometimes twisted behind shadows
Or the fore drop for the morning sun..

Now and Yesterday

My goal in life
Is to speak in
Less words
But say so much more

Dream in panoramic color
Knowing all the meanings
Interpreted in our subconscious tease
As the primer for our future

When we die
What is our goal
To reach those pearly gates
With an illuminating fanfare from above

Do we expect to have it all
Here, there and everywhere
Without a contribution
That society would welcome

Is being in love
A gifted purchase
Aligned with responsibility
Or natural desire

Do you have a goal
Is there even a goal
A focus from launch to finish
Preordained and set to task

From the fantasy in the heart
Deep below the frilly ribbons
Is the jazz
The bass blues of the soul

Seventeen and I Don’t Care

Seventeen and what to do
You got to let them go,
Some easy to assimilate
Others slow to ease.
It is hard when you are so young
And know everything
But have no place to go.
It is so frightening for parents to endure
The arrogant voice tones
The mirrors of us at our worst,
We have created someone
We don’t understand
It really seems there is a language barrier
But isn’t it just the rite of passage.
We can control so tight
With rules and regulations
Checkmarks and xxs
It may not mean a thing
Except juicy gestures
remind them to runaway.
We all had to go through it
From pimples to perfume
The agony of stretching hormones
Breaking promises and confused by one’s self.
Tormented into oblivion
By what yet does not make sense.
Finally,
Trying to get out of their way
Running, running without turning around
Off to the all too gleeful escape
Into the twenties.
So parents
can we control
Ourselves
In this crazy time of transition
And hope our past
Has made us a shining, guiding post.

Real Love

Once in a great while
Your “someone” comes along
Your energies
Are singing the same song
The frequency that frequent
The “Ahh” recalls
When you felt that moment of happiness.
There is a hyper-focus to it all
Time truly does stand still
When you find that person
So familiar
From so long ago.
And if you let it happen
Perhaps you can undo
Mistakes of the past
Knowing all has lead you
To this very moment
Of the most sincere gratitude
All the fragments adhere together
And crystallize
As you are finally not alone
And completely connected.

Hitchhikers

There are two types of people
Well, maybe three
Those that hitchhike
The ones who always drive
And the ride sharers.

The hitchhikers
Hold out their thumb
Letting others know
Just how vulnerable they are
Wittingly getting into a stranger’s car
Roulette wheel to determine
Where they get to next
Wanting someone to carry them
Set them on course
Or allow them to be the perpetual passenger.

The ones that always drive
Independent loners
In charge of where they are going
Not ever looking for any free rides
Expecting life is hard
Working with that fact
Rather than turning it into lamenting paralysis.

The ride sharers
First and foremost want company
They will receive and reciprocate
But never go solo
There is comfort in numbers
And challenged
By fears of impaired judgment
Without consensus.

Unexpected Greetings To The Pool

The plants
Are aghast
Gaping and hunched
In disbelief
At the mega, giant hole
Cut deep into the earth
Just inches away.

It had never occurred to them
In their brief and sheltered life
In the “Burbs”
That their world of Earth
Could be removed at any moment,
Could the Sun burn their leaves
Or the Wind blow them away?

Just beyond their tract house yard
Outside the rod iron fence
Their backs had been turned to
They finally noticed the nursery
Buzzing with trees
The palms and oaks living together,
Unsure of their relationship
But, none the less
Cooperating and inanely trusting
The larger microcosm
Staged by man

So it goes
The plants in the little garden
Saw the metal being placed in the huge cavern
Bent by man to frame and support
The impending blue container of water
Who were they to question
As they returned to their duties,
As is their nature.