I BELIEVE!

I tick the box,

I say the pledge,

I’m a believer,

Built upon the rock.

‘Course I don’t preach,

But at night I’ll pray,

At meals say grace,

Even tame my speech.

I know John 3:16,

I holiday the church,

I’m a believer,

On jesus christ I lean.

Look, I wear the cross,

Eighteen karat Gold,

Even love my neighbor,

a rule I’ve never lost.

What more do you want?

At death by him I’m saved,

This life is mine to live,

Give me not your daunt!

TAKE A BREATHER

Fallen deep into the depths of the pit,
I lay sprawled out on all fours,
Helpless like a naïve deer,
Caught in the cross arrows
Of Problem’s cocked rifle.

I wander out in the stinging cold
To escape the darkness into the night.
My eyes have become well acquainted
With the blackness around me.
The only light I ever see is the flick of
Grass rolled paper in my hand.

I clutch onto it, as if it is all I have.
With every exhale, I watch the
Puffing clouds twirl above my head.
Pensively, I look in. “What do they say?”
They come in magnificent shapes,
Unlike anything I have ever seen.
And then they fade away.

Inhale, exhale.

They resurface, just as wonderful
As their ancestors were.
It seems my only constant is the
Intangible, fading wisps of my breath.
But then I see them, flying upwards,
Racing to the sky, and then they’re gone.

Inhale, exhale.

They come back, this time
More eager than the last.
I can finally see: they’re leaving me
To join their other friends, high above in the sky.
I marvel at the thought.

Inhale, exhale.

They must have a home somewhere else,
Far greater than what I gave them.
Then my fingers burn as the
Paper reaches its end.
Then suddenly, my feet begin to move too,
Feet like the feet of a deer,
Just as the eager clouds before,
They race towards their home,
Wherever that may be.

Inhale, exhale.

My breaths start to quicken
While my strides lengthen.
I don’t stop nor look behind.

Inhale, exhale.

I am running from the gunman’s sights,
Over brush and chopped down trees.

Inhale, exhale.

I make it to the top of the mountain.

Inhale--

Alas: The Heights!

OUT BY NIGHT

Your boldness stands alone,
Torn among the wreck.
Absent of its beauty,
In splattered red blood specks.

Their gnashing teeth sink in,
Throats drowning in lust.
Your choking scent and sound,
These bloodhounds snarl and fuss.

You twirl your dress in bliss,
Tempts untouched from grip.
Fringe unworn by these tries,
The crimson stains each drip. 

Fornicate the future,
Throw away the past.
Forget the gift that’s given,
Sell your soul at last.

GOING ABOVE AND AHEAD

I awoke to the sound of 

Children screaming, dogs barking,

The sun’s light and the wind’s blowing

And I knew I had to travel,

For the day awake does not await

A poor man’s sleeping, sorry fate.

So I walked and I wandered far,

Cast the sails and quit my job,

Grabbed a tool and followed the stars.

I wasn’t sure if I would ever return or 

Find a cabin in the woods.

But maybe just maybe I wouldn’t 

Come back empty, but I’d come 

Back with foresight that’s real

And judgement that’s sober.

I haven’t mapped out the future nor

Considered the past, but

I have listened to my hearts cry,

To go and go do!

To love and let love!

To search and go find!

Therefore I will follow and I will wait

For journey’s waiting, resting face.

I CAN REMEMBER 

Oh the pain in memory!

The searing loss in gain,

How I wish I could remove it,

Or at least subdue its rays.

It haunts me and denies me

The joy of the present,

Restraining me back,

To the hurt of the past.

Leave me forever!

You poisonous vain,

You’ve had your part,

Now off the stage!

The perpetual sight

And resurfacing thoughts

Defile my conscience

From moving on.

In a final plea,

My wish isn’t much:

Just a feeling of not,

A mind stoic and numb.

SYMPHONY NO. FIVE, THIRD MOVEMENT

Misses Mockingbird, your song

Sways the trees and carries the wind,

Teases the grass and flounders the flowers.

Your chirp and tweet twitter in 

Harmony with the gleeful children

On the swinging teeter-totter.

The morning and evening air,

Whether by spring or by winter,

Echo your sound melodies that 

Wake a man from his restless sleep.

Your perfect pitch flutters your wings,

Proclaiming to me, a young fawn,

Of your beautiful, upright seat.

I hear your voice, I heed your call,

But why now and why here,

Must your jingle chatter resound

In orchestrated upheaval to my ears?

How often would our friends profit,

In awe from your lofty whisper.

They are guests to your concert,

Backup vocals to your song.

And I, the lonesome deer,

Am only a half note rest in your

Movement so long.

U-TURN

From busy roads and empty parking lots,

The nature of concrete streets and neon lights

Seems congruent with the patterns of life.

Daily, and almost as if routine,

Red cars, blue cars, and green alike

Travel great distances, North and South.

In the morning their white smoke

Joins the clouds in filling the air.

In the evening their bright lights

Join the stars in lighting the night.

Of all different sizes they drive,

Some two, mostly four, few eighteen,

Continuously over patches of grass

Protruding from the cracks in the road.

Each year, the median, which at first was

Home to many trees and many greens,

Shrinks as the size of the road

Widens and broadens in breadth,

So the many travelers can gas some more.

Perhaps the day will come,

When the frost and ice collect on my windows,

I ignore their cold presence because

I can no longer bear what I’ve seen,

Of busy roads and empty parking lots.

THE HUNTRESS OF HEARTS

On that day I remember,

Though fall almost winter,

The trees were beautiful,

And the leaves just right.

I took you to the peak of the path,

Where the part in the woods,

Shined a city of rooftops

And clusters of people.

On the stump you stood

Looking right in my eyes,

Smiling and laughing,

Staring right into mine. 

You took from me,

What lies deep within,

Like a thief in the night,

You hollowed my mind.

Taking all you could find,

You left, alone on this night.

Once, my lover and friend,

Now, a huntress of hearts.

With your bow, arrows, and darts,

You ambush innocent men,

And sling fire to the

“To death do us part.”

More things there are,

And God must believe,

On heaven and earth,

There’s a you and a me.

But not you and not me,

For you’ve found a prey,

A victim, your game:

My loss, for you, a gain.

ACCEPTANCE 

There’s a feeling breathed through the

Nostrils of air that tells me,

“You are not enough.” 

And I know its truth and all of its integrity, 

So I must take it as such,

Believe it as such, and

Know I’m not much. 

This, though brutal and unkind,

Is the superego of my mind.

When I come to a cross in the road,

I will choose the road always taken,

Because the one never traveled

Requires laces, never unraveled.

And mine have frayed, withered away,

Taking along with them

The face of my identity, 

The heart of my security.

But it isn’t the matter, 

I have accepted what’s true:

You cannot walk in another man’s shoes.

A NATIONAL SPORT

How could it be, as black and white

As red and blue?

Just take one side, you get to choose.

A national sport, a federal game.

The matches are long, continual pain.

The rules are simple:

Two teams, one victor.

So choose wisely, your party leader.

But be aware!

Guns, are their right to bear. 

And all of your money--laissez faire.

Therefore, do not be tricked.

For though there are teams,

You never got picked.

A full contact sport,

Peace, a final resort.

From two teams come two more,

Disparity: the rich and the poor.

This fun and civil game

Has ceased and begotten

A dark and civil war.

THE WOMAN OF SELF CONTRADICTION

Would you care to join me at the sea?

Thirty and falling farther below,

It’s far to cold for that, don’t you see!

Perhaps a vacation to the forest,

To overgrown trails, high as my knee?

No, to risky, you’d have to agree.

Maybe some simple, quality time,

Ah so sweet, we are then at our prime!

Or to travel: New Zealand and Whales?

Absurd; the hills, too daunting a climb.

I might rather just sit here and think,

“Which choice is worse, for you and for me?

QUELLE 

A mighty spring resides in me,

But it is blocked by water’s chilling dam:

It does not flow.

If only it would roll like the sea,

Or just trot and walk like a deer

I could be happy.

Yet it is stopped and stuck and stubborn

To flow.

So in fear I will stay,

Because the stream perpetually waits.

My cup is empty and my lips are dry.

Perhaps this water will fill me up,

Water my roots and drink me up.

If the spring is well, than give me a bucket,

So I may never be thirsty again.

THE WOMAN OF SELF CONTRADICTION

Would you care to join me at the sea?

Thirty and falling farther below,

It’s far to cold for that, don’t you see!

Perhaps a vacation to the forest,

To overgrown trails, high as my knee?

No, to risky, you’d have to agree.

Maybe some simple, quality time,

Ah so sweet, we are then at our prime!

Or to travel: New Zealand and Whales?

Absurd; the hills, too daunting a climb.

I might rather just sit here and think,

“Which choice is worse, for you and for me?”

QUELLE 

A mighty spring resides in me,

But it is blocked by water’s chilling dam:

It does not flow.

If only it would roll like the sea,

Or just trot and walk like a deer

I could be happy.

Yet it is stopped and stuck and stubborn

To flow.

So in fear I will stay,

Because the stream perpetually waits.

My cup is empty and my lips are dry.

Perhaps this water will fill me up,

Water my roots and drink me up.

If the spring is well, than give me a bucket,

So I may never be thirsty again.

VACANCY

O what is it for my soul?

My heart--it longs for it!

My body--it aches for it!

What could it be, 

That drives a man insane,

And leaves, this stark white stain? 

Spare your sweet soul and mine,

Cause’ the worth isn’t worth at all.

My suns set far from yours,

And your stars don’t shine for me.

Give me a cold winter’s night,

Because it isn’t worth the fight.

GEMINID'S EVENING

When I looked up at the perfect lights,

I saw an immaculate canvas, stretched out

From land’s hands to the sea’s shoulders;

An orchestra of colors and sounds, directed by

Life’s inherent director;

A musician’s composition, with black

Notes carefully dotting a white, blank page.

When I looked up at the perfect lights,

I saw something much bigger than I,

Greater than war, disease or widespread poor;

Stronger than a rolling, unforgiving,

Unrelenting white water tide;

And more in control than the man that

Blinks across the sky--left to right.

When I looked up at the perfect lights

I’d even venture to say I felt at peace,

And not the peace that wars war,

But that which calms an anxious heart,

Mollifies a rancorous crowd,

And silences perhaps the doubters doubt,

Because I saw God--and that is enough.

POLKA DOT DRESS

Two of stripes, three of pattern,

Twirling around, actions scattered. 

Two of pin-stripe, three of blue, 

Stepping about, dancing ensue.

“Step, step, triple step!”

Challenged, they dare accept!

Laughing, spinning, turning--so grand!

For the talented couple in the middle--a hand!

The floor, cheerfully carrying forty-four,

The walls, joyfully harboring just a few more

Are perplexed by planted Oxfords,

A pair of steady standing Saddles.

For two there stand and four there are.

Peculiar and bizarre to the others they are.

He, an unkempt and dreadful mess, 

Spots her: the Polka Dot Dress.

“To this may we dance and morrow again?

Perhaps, our lifetime, forever amen.”

THE DISTANCE

“Hello, my dear” I can’t say to your face.

Must I always scrutinize the screen that

Separates us? Or will there be a time,

When I can caress with care, your long hair?

To the land--be damned! The roads--them too!

When I can look to a cloud or bare, black 

Branches to see your face, then I am mad!

Or when I stretch out my arms and expect--

A touch, then my mind is better off dead.

For I cannot have, and that has made all

                                           The distance.

MY HEART TO BE

O Autumn’s life, that brings forth Winter’s death

Be kind to me!

I seek life in thee, give me a radical root to hold,

Or I may rot in a fool’s dismay

For my heart it yearns and for yours it breaks,

The wrenching, felt for costly stakes.

Be kind to me!

A Summer’s breeze and Spring’s fruitful honey

I wish I saw!

But I see not what sees the sea,

I fear for what could never be.

My hands, they grasp your fleeting air,

They trail behind your skin so fair.

A future so distant and incredibly bright,

I wish I saw!