But Death…

But Death…

When…
You no longer trust words
Life feels out of bounds
Love locked in its dungeon of pain
Loneliness crumbles the stalwart back

When…
Futures die faster than nanosecond thoughts
Daily life conjures nothing
Moments become self-seeking spears in flight
Sunshine beats down like an atomic furnace

When…
Hope lies as a broiled and wasted castoff
Tears flow with no healing effect
Thoughts twinkle as broken chards
You face another day…

Then all which entwines your essence together
Must seek to discover a reason
A purpose
A smile
An action
Anything to place one foot in front of the other
For nothing greets one who lies down in resignation
But death of mind, spirit, and soul…

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Most Die on the Vine

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Most Die on the Vine

I look at life so different these days
I see trees of green, skies of blue
I also see withering leaves feebly feeding a healthy mind

I look at life different these days
I’ve only just begun to live
I also see discarded nourishment all around

Life is different these days
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
I also now think the only sun in any eyes rise in my own

Life these days
For you, there’ll be no more crying
I also know as long as there remains breath, heartache skulks

These days
Would you know my name
I also know my name is less important than who I am

Days
Hello darkness my old friend
I also know that while darkness may be found in broad daylight, darkness is not as unfriendly as we think

Days look at my life
I hurt myself today
I also know when I purpose to achieve presence in the “now” pain melts like summer ice creams

Days look at my life differently
Who can say where the road goes
I also know, despite the world’s onslaught at homogenization, we build our own paths if we dare…

Tranquility’s Song

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Oh my! When the muse calls, sometimes we listen. When the muse stomps her silent feet, her thunder demands attention. Three o’clock in the morning presents itself as a sacred time for me – I love my sleep. Yet the shrine of this time rests more directly in the creative realm. Good things come from allowing myself the transgression of writing to mar my unconsciousness.

When she, the muse of course, awakes your soul and requires your attention, the experience is best addressed by passive power. You do not direct the words which pour through your consciousness, you allow them to flow and set their own patterns. Be sensitive for their desire for life and form of constitution, not your own will.

These concepts woke me this day…

Tranquility’s Song

To dance in your eyes
It’s not that they see
It’s more where they go…

To melt with your heart
It’s not that it feels
It’s more how it thrums the key of life

To connect our souls
It’s not that we’re the same
It’s more when they touch truth together

To fall into passion
It’s not as much physical
It’s more why we hold trust so dear

To share finite time together
It’s not that we fill time holes
It’s more who we aspire to become

To dance in your eyes, melt with your heart, connect our souls, surrender to passion, share ethereal time, reveals the beauty and serenity life offers if only we relax into that which we hold dear from our eternal depths which may only be accessed through mysterious knowledge.

Take my hand and explore forever from our temporal perspective on a tranquil ridge on the cusp of the eternal universe…

The End of the World

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The End of the World

I witnessed the end of the world
Awakened in panic
White cylindrical cloud ushering ever skyward
Miles and miles away
Yet robust
And thick
And far too close

I witnessed the end of the world
Snapped to high alert in my dream
A sprint to her room
Where my young daughter lay face down
Crying
Aware she would not see adulthood
No words to say
No words to say
No words to say

I witnessed the end of the world
Vivid in my psyche
Panic in my heart
Defeat in my soul
Even as I lived this day out with no repercussion
The message rings clear
We exist as fools
Our modern bullshit technologies cloak reality
Our intellect finally ran its course
What remains of humanity’s hope blubbers like an infant
While death stalks our entire race

I witnessed the end of the world
Where rise the leaders of peace?
Where?
Look.
Open your eyes.
They do not exist in our governments
They do not exist in our religions
They do not exist in our corporations
All three feed on war despite their crocodile tears
All three feed on strife
Mayhem
Death

I witnessed the end of the world
While the terrific white mushroom cloud may eat us all
We truly lost the world long ago
1984 rises more real each day
Absurdities rule the race,
All suffer on some level
All cry
Digital distraction only hollows us more

I witnessed the end of the world
Who could condemn my sweet daughter to horrific death?
What monsters roam our power mongers
Make no mistake, none live without taint
When will we see?
When will we pay attention?
Will we?
Ever?

There’s only one outcome from the bickering and fighting…

Those Were the Days…

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I remember as a wee lad I would build forts and houses in the great outdoors of our back yard. I constructed them of big boxes at first. “Big tended to be relative to my size, of course.

I quickly found the durability of such abodes to be somewhat suspect. I graduated to wood by using an old wooden gate over the corner of our chain link fence and wedged into the base of our largest Lombardi Poplar. This arrangement worked well as I had an upstairs deck on top of the gate and a downstairs below.

I even came across some old carpeting for the downstairs and built walls attached to the fence out of boxes. I carpeted the top of the gate as well so as to keep in heat in the colder months as this all happened in late autumn in West Virginia.

I’ll never forget running up to the railroad tracks and collecting coal that had fallen off passing trains. We lived four houses down from the tracks. The intention was to burn the coal for heat. After all, I’d watched my father cook hamburgers using charcoal. Coal is coal, right?

The lack of a heat source did not serve as my only disappointment. No matter how many matches I used, I simply could not get that coal to heat up. Rain became the larger nemesis.

One gloomy day, I spent quite a while shoring up all the leaks and drips in my little mansion. The effort felt gallant, yet nothing I did corrected the construction issues. The sound of the raindrops, incessant and unforgiving, stuck with me my entire life. Even now, over fifty years later, I can listen to the rain and feel the hopelessness.

This night, as rain cascades from the sky, off the roof, and splashes into puddles, I feel the forlorn truth of temporal life. Strange that I felt this so young. I felt the impermanence of everything. I felt the truth that none of us would get out alive.

Of course, I did not know much of death and the end of things. For much of my life I believed many things would always be there. Like pay phones. Bottle caps on soft drinks. Forget 8-tracks, I thought cassettes would be around forever as well as albums and even CD’s. And whatever happened to canned blueberries in the grocery stores?

But I digress. So many things I cherished and loved turned out to be temporary. My little mansions, my collectables, my relationships. The very lives of people I loved. Not simply stolen by death, but some whose memories got ravaged by age.

I thought Bradbury and Asimov and Heinlein would always chuck out an endless supply of heart-thrilling scifi. I thought Monty Python would be there forever to make me laugh and smile as well as Benny Hill. I thought Sophia Loren would remain a picturesque goddess forever. I thought my youth would never die.

I once even believed I would find the answers. The answers to the big questions. Little did I realize the big questions would not only never be answered, for the most part, I never asked the biggest ones until age taught me how. Now I wonder at how I could ever have thought that I knew anything of life.

Rolling thunder. Lightning flashes. Rain. My youth. My Spirit. My life. Linking what remains of my future to a more realistic life view not only becomes important but necessary. Positive thought processes and a retraining of my mind does not portend to be a simple undertaking. et, the only way to move forward and achieve my goals is to solve the riddle of negativity which at times prevents me from stepping into my truth and my best destiny.

I should be sleeping. My midnight muse keeps tugging at my heart. Time for a poem before sleep…

Those Were the Days

Autumn leaves piled high for jumping
Chasing. Running. Hearts a-pumping.
At no time would my world change
Yet now life appears so very strange.

People aren’t as good as they seem
Existence lost its youthful sheen
Dreams no longer feel just out of hand
Not from the view, not where I stand.

Yet good things come to those who strive
A sense of purpose, staying alive
Age defines only the mindset we allow
No retreat in life, only here and now.

Tomorrow’s numbers has shrunk one more day
I call my dreams to lock in and stay
Though altered a bit from their once lofty perch
I continue to strive, forsake not the search.

For we’re all living the truths we concede
But I pursue the one’s I believe
I stroll my path a single man, alone
Not my original vision, not the tone.

I’ll continue my trek through the older of days
I’ll shrug of indifference, apathy, dismay
My words will carry me home to my world
Whence legacy and memory will then be unfurled.

I write.
I seek.
I grow.
I learn.

One day I’ll know. I’ll see. I’ll discern.

For now let’s simply walk and enjoy our lives
Yes, let’s do this, you, dear reader and I.

 

Ayesha’s Song

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Ayesha’s Song

I sense you there, in the dark

Petite, lithe, stormy eyes, lovely.

I hear your tears

Sail soft on your cheeks.

Sadness travels an ocean south

Riding waves like valiant messengers

Ears beckon to hear the words

Soul craves the gentle touch.

Dreams nestle your chin on my chest

Scent – exhilarating, touch – divine

Dance, oh the dance,

Silence, made thunder

Fingers thrill in the stroke of your hair

Damp shoulder, monument to trust

Completion, companion, compatriot, friend

I lend you my hand in the words I send

Allow hope to stir in your beautiful heart

Allow peace a chance, a brace, a start

Please, please receive kindness and know

Love sprouts in odd places and aspires to grow.

She once wrote me these words, addressed to this then untitled poem, “Forgive me Michael… Just write your beautiful poems… please promise me, you’ll never stop. Every word speaks to my heart. Just write…. it’s the highest form of loving.”

Writing. It’s power should never be discounted. It’s worth should never be questioned.

I am grateful for Ayesha’s support, wisdom, and strong influence on my life which in turn enhances my writing.

Free

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A New Day Dawns

Intended pain
Purposeful lies
Denigration of character
Foul thoughts given voice

When those days lie done in smoldering ashes
What purchase did words acquire?
Possibly an ear of sympathy for a moment in time?
Perhaps a personal sense of vindication?

Yet the day dawns which sheds light on lies
Blackened burnt offerings set no one at ease
A sprout of green and growing life
Stands in stark contrast to a scorched earth landscape

What hope lay in the calculated events?
What good could came from the show?
Much more than intended
For life and love grow ever beautiful

Air breathes cleaner, Eyes see clearer
Heart feels truer, Soul rests happier
Cruelty intended gains karma’s sentient touch
A new day, a new dawn, a new life

Embers billow to life
Overcoming small minded atrocities and fills sails to the day
Each moment away becomes heaven on earth
Transition to life a wondrous delight

Sun dapples the earth with more pleasant rays
Rain feeds the soul in more pleasant ways
Breezes lend sighs to more pleasant days
Thoughts unfold brighter for life’s more pleasant gaze

Recovery fills the air with astounding joy
Resplendent with a fresher truth
Ah, the love tossed fell from forever and true
But the love gained stands tall

A new day dawns
A new life beckons
New truths discovered
At peace once again…

Non Sequitur Collage of Life Thoughts

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Non Sequitur

Random thoughts on a random day about random things said in a random way…

If I don’t respect you, there’s good reason why…
Cold, cruel witches sleep on ice
Perpetual smiles beautify gorgeous souls
Those eyes eliminated my train of thought like a dropped call
Restraint beyond all reckoning from a desired kiss feels…good/exhilarating/hopeful

Lies spoken to others denigrates purported integrity
Your mere presence brings joy
Never operate from weakness when you own power
Those who betray find their reward bitter…I hope
Is that bad? It’s my truth…

Life becomes amazing when we allow it to get past our eyes
Love’s beauty knows its power when it speaks instead of us…
Incite and truth get confused for regurgitated thoughts
Finding your truth does not lie in someone else’s mind
Embracing your truth becomes the most difficult endeavor of life

Musings own more power than thoughts
Her superficial integrity belies the witch within
I do not owe respect to those who do not own respectable actions
That said, everyone owns some quality of respect in some area of life

Respect: esteem for or a sense of the worth or excellence of a person, a personal quality or ability, or something considered as a manifestation of a personal quality or ability:I have great respect for her judgment.

Despite arguments to the contrary, respect in life gets earned, at least in my truth.
How that respect is earned determines what kind of respect gets delivered
One who earns respect from foul and despicable effort receives respect congruent to the level of nefarious impact perpetrated on others, especially me and my loved ones
I suppose most people who demand respect speak of positive respect.
Withheld respect for ones’ negative actions is not disrespect – this is called healthy discernment…

We officially live in the age of Technological Tyranny
Don’t believe that?
You will…
Love still opens windows and tickles flowers and fluffs the clouds
Love still warms the soul and creates desire and softens reality…

Will stress and negativity ever become a focus for healing our world?
Or will we perpetually chase down the symptoms born of their breeding?
For from both blossom all manner of ilk and ill health, physical, mental, emotional, spiritual…
Why must I suffer your verbal assaults/views/sensibilities/demands/etc?
(sshhh! Little secret…I mustn’t…)

A smile pales the warm sun on the most gorgeous breeze-filled spring day
Mannerisms which display loveliness beyond all reasoning in their honest sincerity
Playful voices which ring delight through a soul so wanting of such joy
A mind that reflects the brilliance of a lifetime of experience
Beauty far preceding the physical realm

Musings vs thoughts.
Search for inner truth or peace or understanding or a myriad of other positives
Or a montage of 40,000 thoughts per minute and attempting to find reason.
Your truth does not lie in books or minds or ideologies or even religions
Your truth lies within yourself.
Until you pursue your innermost truth, you’ll only find someone else’s…

Musings on a gray day or sun-dappled morning reveal pieces of yourself
Splintered by life and the sacrifice of who you are to others
Yet wholly alive somewhere, somehow, in the recesses of your heart
Discover yourself.
Discover life…

 

Pictures…

Pictures

Dust
Silent mantles
Empty walls
No place for a loving heart

Time
Robbed memories
Bankrupt legacies
No place for a loving heart

Breath
Unkissed lips
Hollow words
No place for a loving heart

Days where sun means nothing warm
Nights where cold means nothing warm
Loves where companionship means nothing warm
No place for a loving heart

Pictures which never were
Stills caught in bullshit
Frames empty as consequence
No place for a loving heart

Just a kiss
Simple hug
Gentle smile
No place for a loving heart

Fault, Responsibility, Artist Dates, and I’m not Like You and Everyone Else…

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Emancipation Day

Every other day of our lives we hold onto things we don’t know how to handle, we walk through this world with a touch of today, we don’t look at ourselves in any odd way, just each of us doing the same worn out things, wondering forever what each morrow brings, when we know in the end its all about the end, we look for salvation in each of our friends, we talk of our plans and we talk of our dreams, they all fall to pieces in reality it seems, but we keep up our faith and we ramp up our energy, run to the store and forget about bread and green tea, we hope for a miracle but find just our place in the sun, so we sleepwalk the mornings and stoke up our day, we desire something to change it some way and we try and we try and peer in the night, nothing different, nothing different, nothing different in sight with our answers so distant and far from our grasp, we don’t know the key, can’t even ask, and we wonder why life seems so hard and so drab when we look at the things and the life that we had, the one in our mind, the one built in our head, we never knew that life lived with the dead and those who won’t see that we live in this day, there is no tomorrow there was no today, there’s only now as I write or as you read all these words, there’s no other way to the things that we need, in our minds in our dreams in our fantasies lost, there’s only now, only you, only me, that’s the cost of living a life worthwhile and pristine, grasp this moment, this now, this future unseen, throw off the fault, the guilt, the victim in you, take on the task and know that our true life will be when we step up and take full our responsibility for ourselves, for our sake.

Every other day of our lives, we hold onto things we don’t know how to handle. I’m not like you. Nor anyone else…yet I’m so like you…and everyone else…and I cannot be you…nor anyone else…so…I…must…be…me…

Peggy Miller taught me that. A one-sentence poem which runs on, line after line, without a period. These poems often contain raw power, raw energy, raw truth. I ended my personal Artist Date day today (otherwise known as Groundhog Day), with the wonderful movie Groundhog Day. Culled from Julia Cameron’s wonderful book, The Artist’s Way, an Artist’s Date is one in which you take your artist self out someplace whimsical and celebrate yourself and your creative talent. You give credence to the creator within and you treat that special part of you…special.

My date began at Bonefish Grill. Interesting the things you see and feel in a restaurant like Bonefish when you’re all by yourself at a four-person table. My waitress, Victoria, was sweet and understanding, especially when I had to tell her I left my wallet in the car when she delivered the check (yes, it seems goofy, embarrassing things happen even when dating oneself…lol!).

There was a lovely blonde lady who sat through an hour-long meal with her presumably significant other and smiled only once. What a sad world we can live in sometimes. That world truly exists in our mind, not so much in reality. We may choose otherwise. We simply don’t see the choice far too often.

An older gentleman (yes, there are still many older than me) who sat with his wife and a younger couple with his arms folded across his chest for over an hour. No matter the smiles or laughter which spewed from his mouth, his closed-off body language spoke of warning. Danger. Watch out.

On the way home, driving up A1A, I stopped in Flagler Beach to walk the boardwalk. A blood-red moon crept up out of the ocean, quickly rising and throwing off its red-tinged guilt to quickly take over the night sky in its bright, king-of-the-heavens glory. We should do likewise. Shake off the tethers which bind us to oblivion, live each of our moments as they come, and take our rightful place in this world. That place we forsake most of our lives.

When you take the time to look, there is no one truly like you. Therefore:

Learn

To

Be

You