I often wonder about notions,
an idea, plays out in my head,
I formulate my own opinion,
a funny sort of discrete decision.
Not yet, my mind tells me,
not ready to share with anyone else,
and there begins the battle,
because I do,
I so want to,
there’s a part of me that wants to free the world,
my world I suppose,
actually, our world,
because I think, wait a second, I mean,
we all seem to … have a want;
so that everyone around me will know
what’s in my head,
what I’m imagining,
Thinking about this.
On the horizon, a wall looms,
we reach inside for garden tools,
protect the hibiscus, secure the lawn
decorations – that peace of mind.
What happens next,
we cannot control,
yet why is it in our own lives,
that survival, is all we try to do,
mask the insecurity so no one might know,
deep inside we are as
frail to the notion of real as is the vine
sudden storm clouds will rip apart.
Nature always wins,
despite the efforts of many,
to hide the furthest
indication of that surreal
There’s a rain steady,
keeping indoors the traveler
whom might be seeking the wood,
may stroll along the coast,
skipping rocks, switching thoughts,
contemplating the beauty around them,
the coffee shop,
holds promise to the conversations
around that though similar, seem different,
contain stories all the same,
their worlds are always different,
in the context of their moments,
until we can catch each other’s eyes.
We wonder about the people next door,
a table nearby our own private world,
did they speak of it,
were they aware,
was there a time in their lives when everything,
seemed similar, possible, simple,
perhaps it is true,
they say it often enough to never forget,
we’re all the same,
we haven’t any lead on the element of change
the human condition might experience the same,
euphoric wonder built upon manifest tragedy.
I was sitting along with my company,
my world against hers,
together we were watching our own world,
responding to the elements in a unique fashion,
yet still, very still, almost
in a sort of decopaged setting,
to be measured in someone else’s eyes,
for they are the judge of this life,
we are simply the portrait.
A stillness in the air,
while we wait the rains,
they might part to give allowance
to nature’s Grace in the wooded freedom
of a dense forest,
away from all wander of deception.
While I stood inside the sidewalk cafe,
I watched the people around me,
create lives of envy,
to balance those of misfortune,
whose measure relied upon me,
or my own eyes, or their’s or someone
with similar passion.
Yet in all of our sightings,
there seems only one reality.
For now is this brief telling
of a society, a world, a small neighborhood,
this is the story
of you, and me, and the neighbors,
the kid running the sidewalk
We are going another direction
tonight, to a time, or maybe a familiar
reason to act this way,
let’s all pile in,
and witness the same over there.
For the have that you speak of need,
might lessen the burden for a not,
if little houses seem the pattern,
then certain marble castles,
with gigantic columns
only in a dream.
I’m talking about hair nets and fry cooks,
a lavender sport coat in the rain,
a polished makeover that let’s another
in their moment of truth, complain.
It is easily recognized in the car
she drives, for when he once did,
she became less incredulous
she could always do the same.
Let’s remember when,
our childhood brought us to a field,
where we play for hours, just with the
tall grass and sweet rains that
gave our hearts a reason to breathe.
For that’s when,
all the crying would end,
and a body alone,
could settle in to experience peace,
in the quiet rain.
When I do sometime imagine,
where my world seems to wish to land,
how it is I have become the man I am today,
I wonder in the privacy of my way.
I ask myself in the quiet of a night rain,
is it me that is seeking cover from the pain,
do I ignore the needs of others,
or am I simply trying to avoid the fear of hers.
I listen to the beauty of our soft harmony,
a kiss, lips so soft I am in my own agony,
to imagine ever letting go of her sweet beauty,
I am the foolishness of my own lack of duty.
I have this yearn while watching the sky turn gray,
I do want you in my arms, her I mean, my dismay
in knowing I have been the light minded fool
of nostalgic certainty, the waving tides do cool.
A certain passion could describe the love we share,
when out of a quiet night we find we are where
we both wish to be, in arms, an unbridled love affair,
for that is the truth of our reality, someone might swear.
But I do love her, he says to himself, quite alone,
always alone again, knowing she had never known.
how the air around me
that energy inside me,
turned to wisp of delight,
her fragrance perhaps,
the beauty of a stance suggests seductive
innocence, without the naivete – only simply the desire
recognized in our society,
a special gift to our eyes,
no desire to be repressed for being beautiful.
When will we discover a way to put aside
human condition musings,
those that tell us all how vulnerable we are to
that notion of humility mixed with scintillating sensuality,
pass on the forboden scrutiny
she walked by me today.
When does it become the rule,
when our lives belabor such passion
that we alone only feel the result.
How could we ever know such cool
winds would weather a decision
to love rather than cast insult.
While the rains fell in morning sun,
lights in my mind suggested a peace
when comfort became necessary
I did choose to walk slow among
the vast majority, the inclined release
of simple truths, those that are wary
would we know by the color of their mood,
may we no longer feel a need, this we brood.