Hoping You Are Hovering Near

For Mother’s Day

All I would want

Is one more

Gentle kiss on the cheek

From my son

So far away

One more touch

Of his young, emerging self

To know he is okay

Safe and sound

In Heaven’s embrace

Do what all good people

That die young

Are assigned to

In the hereafter

While mothers in the here and now

Wish for as little

As one for moment.

Passion for Sale

How could this be

I have never received any passion

When having to pay a fee

Stick in the probe

Reactivate that part of the brain

When the heart beats rapid, unrelated to fear

The world becomes sane

There are passions

And actions

And fashions

And reactions

Passions

Demand nothing

While For Sale

Requires a buyer or sting

Those so worried about prostitution

Ought to be concerned

More for the loneliness

Of how that money was earned

The Great Greta Garbo

Sullenly said “I want to be alone”

From the silly smoke of a fashioned cigarette holder

Perhaps there is a passion in being known

It is as if there is a step missing

Of what to do next

There are only vague directions

Keeping us vexed.

All In Divine Time

We arrive at the shallow shores

Of swampy waters from which we came

At the apex of decision

Do I want to return

What is it I still need to create

Or understand?

Will I choose to arrive

As a woman or a man

Which ever one I have too much of

I will select the other

Climbing up that pillar

To be launched

Flung back into the world

For yet another thrill seeking challenge

Where I have been

Is everywhere at the same time

As days and years are unmeasured

In the course of endless space

I long yet, once again, not completely satisfied

I wander through the traditional

Only on the fringes of something really new

And everything in its due time, in its season

The truth is impenetrable

Bobbling, in my floating, non-sea worthy vessel

Getting ready to make that great leap

Not yet believing it is almost time to return

Lessons in the chest pocket must be carefully read

Maybe, when just waiting at the airport at boarding time

Understanding that E.T.A. is not the issue.

Parenthood

I have the book

With all the answers

From all the mistakes

I’ve made

Everything now has

Been corrected

In an orderly, timely procession

A procedural manual

For sure-fire success

I have lived through the burns

The anguish

Of immature judgments

And impulsive invincibility

That has lead me up

This 90 degree angle

Slaying the cursory dragons

Along the way.

Now I open my book to you

Old and tattered

Be that it may

Each page packed

With suggestions

For an airtight life.

But you, my child

Leave the book unopened

Instantly putting it aside

To create your own stories

Of trials and tribulations

Your own dragons slain

No interest in my history

Other than a trajectory glimpse

Speed Dial and More

Living in a sea of mystery

From where did I begin

And where does the world end

Deserts to cross

Dust in the face

Sweat on the brow

Sore and aching muscles

Hearts that open and close

Solid clans of religion

That circle to the God head

Eternity of promise and submission

Are we the masses controlled

Or are we so out of control

Clashes of culture

So many other communication break downs

Our body memories

Reach for touch

Of the heart, the hand and the mind

An ocean of darkness

Between the green, blue sea

Sky that reaches to meet it

On a sun filled day

On earth’s paradise

Tomorrow we may know different

But we have hardly evolved

Going in circles

With new age technology toys

Everyone has been imprinted with a yen

To enslave the machine

And set their time free

Transmission of power

Leaves us all in the dust

Without all the adrenaline

Needed by our brave, “survival” ancestors

We may be losing pace

With our needed evolution

Fixated by games and toys

Flash drive messages

Smothered in abbreviations

While our internal life dries up

Like a plum in the sun

Emptying out old suitcases in our mind

That equipped us with the tools

We no longer think we need.

Marijuana Haze

Have a hit

To start your days

Night time sleep

That’s the way

You are in a marijuana daze

Feeling lost in its haze.

Tried to keep it a secret

For so many years

The professional façade

You kept so dear

But your friends would love you, any way

Despite all your fears.

Until one day

The gig was up

Marijuana had

Overflowed your cup

Forty years of anesthetizing

Renders you

A new born pup.

What to do

To get rid of the head pains

The internal aches

Of refrain

Letting go of an old friend

With mixed disdain.

Anguish fills your hours

Unrelenting doubts

Limit your powers

In disbelief of

how you got here

caught in the groove

of shame and fear.

If only you will guide yourself

On a new kind of road trip

Forgiving and replacing

Old habits you’ve kept

You can transform yourself

And not feel inept.

The truth stands

Right before your resistance

Change is doable and necessary

To transform your existence

Bite the bullet-Let go of the passé

You can go the distance.

Say goodbye to your old sidekick

You counted on so long

He will seduce and beguile

But you know he is so wrong

Gather up that strength from within

And play your victory song.

Let a day go by

and then another

with exercise and positive intentions

for yourself and others

give you the gift of clarity

incrementally and progressively without a shutter.

Do you really believe

This is all about weed

The depression and anxiety

You know are about unresolved need

Yes this is physical

But the emotional is what is making you bleed.

You are divine and brilliant

Filled with humor and light

Explore your spiritual nature

It will nurture you with delight

Be the healer to yourself

You are going to be all right.

Cousins

Cousins

You can see the resemblance

The blood line perpetuating

Repetitious patterns

Of those that have come before

With behaviors of kinship and longing

Fill the heart with joy

At such a reunion

Of food and merriment and catching up

And meeting new, young cousins

In the throws of play

Mari Juana Hooked

Free as a bird
If only your mind could
Believe it.
Instead of freedom
You are captive
To thoughts of fear
Keeping you restrained
In the pain
Of dependence
On an addiction
To hold your world sane
Trying not to ambush yourself
With the truth behind
The illusion
That drugs will keep you safe
And once you break free from that struggle
Your horse will run wild over the cliffs.

Companions of the Winter

Companions of the winter
Iced externals
Luke warm internals
Everybody needs a body
Or a hot bowl of soup
Maybe a steamy shower
The passionate memory
Of a lover
An orange, yellow and blue fire
Flames keeping rhythm with the wind
A wool scarf
A favorite comforter
Some spooley socks, preferably
In bright and holiday colors
A book read by the window
While grasping at the tiniest reflection
Of the yellow streamers
Through the grey sky
Thoughts of pleasant times
Or hot cocoa with bobbing, gooey, miniature marshmallows
A caring touch, hug, embrace
To warm the heart.

Bullet Train Brain Drain

Bullet Train Brain Drain

The mind
Like a Tokyo train
Races in between
The complex wires of stations
One minute filled
With dopamine
Riding high
On the day
The doors automatically open
Unveiling a new exhilarating adventure
… And other times
A stop at any roadside attraction
May muster up
Not even a fraction of curiosity
In a dopamine low
On the sunniest of days
The dark thoughts
Huddle in a rave
And the smoky room
Is odorously annoying
Savage beasts
Reach for the adrenals
Draining out what novelty remains
The mind
Is stuffed in the corner
As the body retreats
So ambushed
By the flash storm
Of chemicals
Brittle and snapping the brain
No horse power
Until the next train

Hello

Hello
I would like to talk
With someone I don’t know, yet
A calm and soothing voice
Filled with laughter and zest
Kindhearted and egoless
I would like to talk
To one that speaks to my intellect
I would like to
Divinely connect
Just to get a hint of bliss
Here on earth
To inspire the long haul
To no longer
Be alone with my thoughts.

Friends Change

Friends Change from
When you meet
There is a common thread
That unravels into
A beautiful, colorful comforter.
In the same emotional place
Or developmental stage of life
Filling a need
One way or the other
There is warmth and security
Under the comforter
Knowing you are both sheltered from
the storm of indifference or disconnect.
Over time so many experiences are shared
So many secrets, and vulnerabilities revealed
Challenges and celebrations conquered and applauded
At some point
The comforter begins to change its form
With time and the new emotional and life demands
It may not feel quite the same
As when that blanket was new and fluffy
Soothing may have taken a different turn
But the comfort can always remain.

When love is in the Air

You seem to have a sense
something special is near by,
Before the glance
That makes it undeniable
A long lost part of yourself
Alas, is found,
You feel whole again
And so much more
Everything you ever dreamed-
Desired with a long away look
The fantasy of the real flesh
The eyes understanding
What is here cannot be mistaken,
And there is nothing more important
Than being in close proximity
Your ethereal bodies
Speaking their minds
Long before your physical body
Could fantasize
Of how good
Connecting those two bodies would be,
The world is made up of only two beating hearts
The energized hands cannot stop touching
There is wonderment around each corner
Every curve of the human form
The brain waves, charge
For everything about the moment
Convinces you to give up eternity for,
As it brings us to the present
keeping us in the Now
Where we live in no fear of what could be
And no worries/regrets for what has been.
So if love walks by
The chance
Is worth everything.

Orphaned Before It Is Time

When Parents Die
Untimely deaths
And children
Or young adults
Are now
The Senior generation
Whom shall they go to
For maternal nurturance
Or paternal guidance
What shall they do
When the whole world
Seems to have parents
And they have had so little time
To grow up
And self sustain
All the unresolved individuation
And all the unresolved bonding
Is left in ill repair
They are angry
Knowing it is not fair
They feel sorry for themselves
In a way they never wanted to
And they understand that others
Feel that way too
Orphans of circumstances
Way beyond their control
Siblings gather in a huddle
Trying to come up with their next play
Not sure if they can go on with plans
They mapped out with smiles
In what now seems like forever and a day ago
They must carry on
As they are the living
The next generation
That their parents would want to be better
Than they were
Carrying their grief
Like a badge of courage
And proving they have the right
To regain their strength and joy
And make it through the night
The many nights
Of the rest of their lives.

The Last Breath

The Last Breath
Awake or asleep
And there is no more
Chance
We are left
Solely unfinished
Wanting to polish off the hours
Of agony and
Feeling sorry for ourselves
Alone again
In a land of confusing roadmaps
Where to turn
Whom to express
How to make sense
When to let go

My Dog Blue (Nothing Like A Dog)

I couldn’t resist those blue eyes
When I first saw you
Patiently awaiting a home
You were so rambunctious
Barely could be tamed
By dog training classes

You herded up the kids
In the neighborhood
Just like you would have
Sheep in your native land

You speak with words of wants
Asking for walks and affection
And you run like the river
Flowing in streams of full force

After a brief stay
With your surrogate father, my friend
Up in the mountains
You lived with the horses and wild dogs

You loved Daddy Den
And were just what he needed at the time
Then you were with him
Howling to the wind in desperation
Under a great oak tree
As he lay at your feet with no heart beat

Even sometimes now
All these years later
You cry in your sleep
With nightmares of those panicked hours

You have brought us
So much joy
With your hyperactive zest for life
Finding each morning walk
More exciting and exuberating
Than the last

You look up over my side of the bed
To greet me in the am
Respectful if I don’t move quite yet
And you walk away giving me space

Catching a ball, any
Is impossible to resist
It is such an enjoyable game
You’ll throw the ball to yourself
When necessary

You wait so patiently
Curled up near by
anticipating my unspoken prompt
To go upstairs to bed
And join me, never far behind

Any sound throughout the night
You are privy to
Prepared with a ferocious bark
Keeping all kinds of
Potential predators at bay

You never look in the mirror
So any dog seems much smaller than you
As you cantor on your walk
Socializing in your
Fearless, omnipotent style

You will never leave home
Or even consider it
Except to chase an occasional rabbit
You are here for the long haul

Blue, you are so strong
From all that mountain running
And pleas at the barbeque spot
Alert to table droppings from the younger kids
Or following me in the kitchen
Knowing the refrigerator and the clanging of pans
Will almost always guarantee a treat
You are gentle with children
In tune with your family’s well being
And your soul is devoted and true

SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder)

No matter what is said
It is always determined
To seasonally toll the same
Without the needed light of day
Darkness emanates morose thoughts
Or simply zaps the energy
There does not seem to be any reserve
Only the lack of sun
And brief daytime hours
Brings some to their knees
In the hoarding doom of January
Unrelenting to the where withal
Or the inertia
Oh, how we await
That springtime warmth
Salvaging us from the brutality
Of winter’s curse
The world regains its colors
Moods can be eased
Energy rebooted
Oh, praise to the sun
The sacred, emotional nourishment
Pivotal to our existence.

Unforgettable Mark Battle

A Renaissance Man
For all seasons
And all reasons
He had the art of song & poetry
Was fueled by personal injustices
A boy losing his dad to the Klan
Now, expected to be a man

He rose to the occasion
Whether professional or personal
Reading people so gently and caring
With love for learning
Military strategies and breaking down steel barriers
A leader, among leaders

Always soft spoken
Smiling like a boy, man and king
Active of mind
Quick of wit
Slow, cautious movements
Full of ideas

A solid friend, a mentor
A majestic professionalism
He understood all the races
A pioneer adventurer
A true social worker (macro and Micro)
Like his favorite, old cowboy movies
He tamed new social frontiers.

The Many Faces Of Valentines

Won’t you be my Valentine
If I serve all your needs
And ignore my own
Won’t you be my Valentine
So you will never have to
Be alone
Won’t you be my Valentine
If I always had your back
And never let you lack.

Won’t you be my Valentine
If it was all about me
Clearly bursting
With quiet, necessary demands
You desperately accommodate
Just to prove you can
Won’t you be my Valentine
To rescue all my woes
And adorn me from Head to toes

Won’t you be my Valentine
If it was a practical arrangement
Of time and money
Right up front
Won’t you be my Valentine
For a fundamental exchange
Without the barrage of
Emotional estrange

Won’t you be my Valentine
Because our families
Say it should be so
Arranging life around approval
And never “letting go”
Won’t you be my Valentine
For purposeful, societal accord
Our appearances of “the ideal”
Could be the main reward

Won’t you be my Valentine
Just because I asked
So you can be so flattered
It will distract you from your past
Won’t you be my Valentine
To hold the power
Of your draw
Understanding you could live unscathed
Assuaged by adoration
No need to do more.

Won’t you be my Valentine
Because you are too trapped to leave
No hostage negotiation
From the rage that you receive
Then the threat of abandonment
To twist the guilt within your belly
Until it feels oh so Helly
Won’t you be my Valentine
As you have been so seductively convinced
You do not have the right
To even wince

Won’t you be my Valentine
To perpetually remind you
How you’d flounder without your cohort
Who saves you from yourself
And stashes your addictions and shortcomings
Proudly on the shelf
Won’t you be my Valentine
So I can own your soul
As following my dictatorial guidance
Will certainly take its toll

Won’t you be my Valentine
Because I am so desperately inadequate
In my self vision
Of being so unlovable
And scraps for me are the only things discoverable
Won’t you be my Valentine
Because we are both lost in fear
And we are so grateful
That anyone would come near

Won’t you be my Valentine
Because you are my mentor
A rock star, a celebrity
To take me in your fold
So I can pretend to be so bold
Won’t you be my Valentine
So surreptitiously
I can enjoy your fame
Act as if I have your talent and your brain
Starring on the coattails of your name

Won’t you be my Valentine
From a far
Keeping clear distance
So I never feel jarred
Won’t you be my Valentine
If in name only
As the commitments of emotion
Seem so onerous and remote
Like a derailed locomotion

Won’t you be my Valentine
So I can create a family
Belong to something, finally
Bring to fruition
The yearnings from childhood fantasy
Won’t you be my Valentine
To finally have a place to fit
And claim ownership
Of a pronounced connection
I think will be “it”


Won’t you be my Valentine
Because I mire in your presence
And we mutually reflect
The best of each others’ essence
Won’t you be my Valentine
Because we choose to grow in truth
Collaboratively preserving
With respect and endearments
The passion of Our eternal youth

Mind Over Matter

Thoughts are often injuries
To our senses
Catching odd ideas
On that ferris wheel of cognition
Latching on to something
Because it is relevant
Or strictly a shiny objects.

Cognitive and Behavioral
How could therapists really believe
That thoughts effect behavior
While behavior waits
Dormantly incensed

Can the mind know the truth
Or does it simply translate
From the perceptions we’ve been given
Or can it accept
Pure love from the heart

When the impulses
And the dark memories
Get aroused in the trauma brain
Can we discern
The past from what yet has not occurred

Our preoccupations
With interpretation
Rather than simply enjoying
Was created at the beginning
So our primitive mind could survive
And one day evolve to
the balance of thought and function.

Folie A Deux

A madness
Shared by two
A mutual distortion
Of hard reality
Shared to a tee

Perceptions
Under lock and key
Convinced impenetrably
All for one and
One for all
Both will take the fall

Isn’t it quite perplexing
Somewhat arresting
That what is considered
Mental illness, (per the diagnostic manual)
Reflects the conditions necessary
For a harmonic marriage

To Be Of Service

Thinking of what you can do
For another: person or cause
Making their passion yours
Rather than conditioning the outcome

To Be Of Service
Is feeling the anguish, the torment
The frustration, the helplessness
Of the “other” person or cause
Not killing yourself with guilt
But allowing and being with the feelings

To Be Of Service
Finding what you think you might
Be good at
Developing those skills
And utilizing them
For the greater good

To Be Of Service
The understanding of the “oneness”
This interconnected universe
Is designed to recognize
Through Sacred Geometry
Of how all our fractals
Fit together, each miniscule of us
effecting and touching all.

New Scenery

Free up your finger
And take a ride
On the single’s express
All aboard
Whether you are
Completely Packed or not
There is no time like the present
To move on
Down the road
Backpack of memories
Fond and painful
Need to get used to
Your present day company
Making your choices
Living peacefully with yourself
Looking for adventure
Nothing unreasonable
Toss away the fears
Take the passport to new horizons
You are on the next step of the journey
No judgments, no conclusions
Not really a tourist
Just traveling

Rain Paris Reign

Living in the fantasy
Of more glamorous times
Smokey, rum scented fumes
When across the room
Eyes meet in romantic gaze
What has been awaited
All these days
Between musical notes
And human chatter
They muse
Somewhere in the middle
Across the dark, wood planked floor
To solve the riddle
Behind mime and reason
Whisking away
In spun cotton and linen
To see Paris at midnight
Under the purple, misty sky
Where anyone would sigh
To behold the moment
In the outdoor café
Sprinkled with ex-patriots
Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Gloria Stein
Picasso entrances
Between lovers repose
The greatness of the creative moment
Over coffee and memories
Independence Day streamers
From the right frontal lobe
And primitive amygdale jungles
Birthing ideas of the moment
That stand the test of time.

We Are Not All

We are not
All created equal
In features or qualities
Talents or limitations
Vulnerabilities nor strengths
Visions or actions
Decisions or judgments
Acceptance or rage

But yet…
We so often believe
Others should know
What we are thinking
What we might need
How their comments or actions
Effect us
And trivialize our lives
When we expect
Others to think like us

What we value
May be of different values
Culturally,
Emotionally,
Intellectually,
Physically,
Spiritually
Playfully
And yet we hold a mirror
To others
Reflecting what we would do

How do we know
What others really know
How they understand the world
Where they see themselves
How they view us
What they feel is nurturing
Or kindness or
Even boundaries
Or enabling

When we are gracious
To give it our best
Only to receive
Indifference
Or defense
Or judgment
Maybe we are simply being
Grandiose
In assuming
Receipt in full
Of masterful reciprocation

Where will we go
If we hold all others
To the same light
Thinking in unanimous fractions
Of drone soldiers
Carbon copied replicas
Of the narcissistic brightness
Of ourselves
Eternally streaming
With tears of unending disappointment
Aghast with how the universe
Is not a tight fitting puzzle.

Just Around the Corner

Many have seen the darkest days
That don’t seem to shed light
Getting through it
Such a fight
When all seems wrong
It is hard to find what’s right

When thoughts ferment
And deteriorate
Looking at the world
With hate
Feeling life is not fair
Sarcastically sealing fate

Mistakes and blame
That can’t be changed
Wishing and hoping
Can’t rearrange
Not even a glimmer
Beyond the strange

Sleep on it deeply
Giving in to resign
By trusting
The design
That shortly thereof
All will be fine

Can’t fight the tiger
But soon he will rest
Restore the blood life
With eager and zest
The light returns us
To who we are best

Patience is the angel
Resistance is the sword
Forgiveness
Is the word
Restoring the energy
To face life as a Reward.

I Once

I Once met a lover
Who was mysterious and deep
Brought me back through time
A different life time
Some of it was a blur
But the deep pull
Of longing for that memory
Of powerful connection
An undeniable lightening bolt
Drawing the compulsion
For anything else
To fade

As if the dream were continued
To modern times
Once again
Feeling the aching love
Of an incomplete destiny
To dalliances of epic proportions
Daydreaming free moments
Into the dazzling perceptions
Of a remarkable passion
That could outlive a life time

Once again
Another look
To bring all the senses alive
And the prospect of Heaven
to earth
with the slightest of touches
stirring Nirvana
unleashing the prohibitions
of the human form
conspiring spirits
gliding across the sky

Waiting

A life time
For the right moment
To illuminate
The life given
From the darkness
And deep shadows
That have cast doubt
Upon the true nature of the sun
The shiny smiles of youth
The sorrowful slumped shoulders
Of resignation
The arrogant tap shoe walk
Of the slick tricksters of financial clout
The tight expressions of those
That willingly went under the knife
The forlorned tatter
Of the poverty of the misfit
Waiting for the world to change
And all to be loved and accepted
As human beings
Beyond their religious affiliations
Beyond their sexual orientation
Beyond their educational or financial status
Beyond their social or emotional limitations
Beyond their cultural identities or other
Unpardonable transgressions
Waiting…

In The Ballroom of Mood Swings

Mood swings
Are hard to follow
Amongst partners
Hard to swallow
There is barely time
To wallow
In moments confusing
And hollow.

All is fun
Pretty divine
Than without forewarning
It all unwinds
It makes it hard to remember
When this person is kind
So tormenting
To the body, soul and mind.

On top of the world
With love and merriment
Only to quickly
Take a rapid descent
Hard not to personalize
Madness or discontent
not really prepared to open up
To others and vent.

It is hardest on the kids
This is all they have known
Never quite feeling safe
In their home
Aching for their childhood ambitions
For life to have a pleasant tone
Of nurturing calm
Not feeling alone
In the chaos
Of the unknown.

FRIENDS

Familiar
Reminiscent
Intimate
Engaged
Nurturing
Devoted
Supports.
No matter the distance
Near or far
Whatever the
Meeting place
Or reason
Pick right back up
Where you last left off
Safe to be you
Limitations and strengths
Both understood
Accepted
And celebrated
Shared experiences of the past
Enhancing the present
There to shine light
On the entanglements and woes
With laughter and joy
Always abundant
In the connection
That endures
the lifetime.

Grandbabies

Grandbabies
Are like flowers
Suddenly blooming
When the garden was looking dusty
They breathe a new light
On the perspective of living
Bursting with energy and awe
Making the simple divine

Grandbabies
Are the legacy
Of the compilation
Of one’s true life
Presented anew
From the meager DNA
Entrails of what had never been completed
Now so clear
In the shiny faces
Adoringly looking at you
As they so lithely jump
On the trampoline in the blue sky and radiant sunlight