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,
For it is that peace in our lives,
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
What is love,
love is why we cry.
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.
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.
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
when in an afterthought
we might come to terms with asking
what did just happen a minute or two
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,
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,
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
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,
winter hot fire, chocolate expressed sensuality.
We all might express
our love for the beauty inherent in
the human condition in all His madness
suggests we no longer anticipate,
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.
– ‘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 …