I would like to be a writer. I began this site with amorous intentions, and over the course of time, I hope to have evolved as a male in an ever changing society that is today, recognizing the true beauty and elegance of woman. I am also into writing poetry. Come along for the ride.

Posts tagged “thoughts

Convoluted Love

He said, the only reason is love,

questions in her mind suggested, what is …

his definition, compared to her own,

what she feels, does he understand,

he wants what she knows, yet, will he, can she,

how might their peace of mind,

find grounding.


For it is that peace in our lives,

causes us,

on a beautiful summer afternoon,

to respond to the sounds,

the birds in morning,

the wisp of breeze in a hot afternoon,

the starlit ambience of night fall,

in all of these imaginable sensory explosions


we are still seeking semblance,

asking for balance,

allowing that risk and edge to indicate

our lives are brief in the greater

scheme of things,

yet what is the

universal design.


What is love,

love is why we cry.

Questions Delve Deep

I think there is a reality we all imagine,

when simple is sufficient,

we sort of bowl over the remainder,

the mystery of being.


If to suggest lives matter,

is it as important to recognize honesty

attached to our integrity,

or are facades the true meaning.


We must be conscious how lost

begins the circle of unwarranted deceit

when lacking in interpretation,

the eyes need offer swift hesitation.


While further the exploration

begins to parlay the genuine nature,

in a gradual manner

speaks idly of conscious respect.


Oh, for my words do matter,

so careful I am to avoid such hindrance,

creates a vacuum in the greater schematic

playground of our heedless humanity.

Settle In

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,

it depends,

if little houses seem the pattern,

then certain marble castles,

with gigantic columns

would suffice

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,

everything else,

all the crying would end,

and a body alone,

could settle in to experience peace,

in the quiet rain.

People and Lives

We touch one another in so many different ways,

often without a glance of reality,

or perhaps there is while naivetee provides an over-riding

response to a necessary grounding.

We sometimes will not see that expression

miles later

when in an afterthought

we might come to terms with asking

what did just happen a minute or two

just before

we became unaware of just who we might be

in that last moment, encounter, hopeful rendezvous.

Or maybe we became another’s distant nightmare.

We cannot really ever imagine beyond ourselves,

though we often wish we might,

the philosophy of our dreams stays generally alone

with us, only.

I might want to share my life with you,

yet I would imagine so many quiet variables

those places in our mind we remain puzzled by

when we do discover new energy,

attractive nuance,

delightful deception without a caustic outcome.


What is it really gets in the way of our hopes, dreams,

or are they all simply passions,

those impulsive reflections upon desire,

the motives for what we believe we must have,

we need,

we want,

we demand,

and then all is truly lost, again.


I once stood outside and waited for her

because I loved her and didn’t really care that much

about how she felt,

I couldn’t write a hollywood script with my presence,

at least not one worth the dirt I stood upon,

instead, I became just another statistic


quiet ignorance.


I have to really wonder sometimes if my goals are for


without altruistic value,

are they designed with you in mind.

Strangers in the mix of figuring out our lives


Perhaps listening is more important than sight.


Wanting only to let go

simply be, wonder, allow, wish,

while all of our desires remain strong,

alive, bold, risque,

respectful anonymity can only bring passion

along for summertime blues,

august frills,

winter hot fire, chocolate expressed sensuality.

We all might express

our love for the beauty inherent in

knowing when



the human condition in all His madness

suggests we no longer anticipate,

just be,


I Do Think Every Thought She Knew

If in the moment we parted ways,

we could have allowed our energy

an open door to solemn authenticity

we might feel as compelled is today’s


hope for memory, a simple truth

lies before us drawn with ink stains

yet the absolute, the real, abstains

again, without an optimistic youth


we wallow in the real of our imagined

crisis, playing the role, asking to know

just how far have we, where to show

our own talents in contrast determined.


While the sea continues to churn in distant

waters, here on land the solid is consistent.

“Cathartic Moments” (thinking about Joni)


© Norman Seeff Photography


– ‘no regrets coyote’ –

ode to Joni, when I was young

hadn’t any clue what that might mean,

didn’t understand how you could have conversations

with night screamers, night prowlers, night idioms

those that would represent a scavenger in all of my

elementary notions, books, conversations with elders.


I suppose I’m partly saying hello because I know,

as we all might realize your days are in a grave manner,

struggling through the reality of ‘what is life’

maybe without knowledge, maybe completely aware,

yet laughing inside, thinking about the road,

‘a prisoner of the white lines on the freeway’

or could you be crossing the road, guiding our souls,

as your lyrics always have, always will throughout any adventure

anyone of us might have had at the hands of your same fantasy.


We all do live for those moments,

the times we realize this is real and there ain’t no turning back,

nor any desire, except for the delight that lies ahead.

we do like that playful notion of being perhaps,

pinned in the corner without any release in the arms of the one you,

lust, love, I mean, want, desire, no regrets, just do me this favor,

always remember your words. they did teach us all how to labor

upon our own realities,


adjustments to the new highway we travel daily,

without ever leaving our safety zone,

we’re all out there somewhere together,

glancing into the skies, the beautiful airy wonderful

blue and radiant and spectacular skies …

while we delight an occasional surreal

… cloud …