In the crazy

In the pressing dark

That wants to crush

That wants to hold you down

Always remember

You are the hero

In this sung story

Not the villain

You choose

For welcome glory

you are pushed from a plane at birth
that you might you fall through life
exhilerated by the whipping wind
with the blazing sun in your eyes
until you reach terminal velocity
and finally go to pull the cord
only to find
you were never given a parachute
just an experience that one day ends

Our sun sailed high in the covering sky

For faithful year after bright year

Like a silent golden ship

While beneath basked sleek deer

Until setting late in the west

When all would take their rest

But that a new and sickly pale sun

Did rise once more in the east;

So, instead, a quiet spell was cast

And those beneath fell at the last

Lost in a dreamless, shadowed place

Until perchance the old will rise again

In its rightful space

To banish that so fake and foul

Forever more.

The day is black out the window

But it will paint itself in sunrise

And blue sky with white cotton clouds

Will spread alongside orange rays

That illuminate the boulevard trees

And quiet, colourful, dew covered cars

Reminding me that each morning is new

And I am a canvas re-covered

Stretched over a frame of hours

To become renewed by choices

Or unchanged with indecision.

The world is insane

And so the mad cannot be seen

Like flames in a forest fire

They are hidden in plain site

Only apparent at the touch

They will leave a mark

Like a scar on history

For everyone to see

And ask –

“What happened to us?”

But we will not have an answer.

Sunday morning is quiet

In the best possible way

We are in our places

Doing what needs to be done

Silently apart but connected

They’re is a peaceful space

That grows in this place

This refuge from the wild world

And i hear nothing but silence

Buzzing in my ears

As if everything just clicked into place

When we weren’t looking

My unhinged heart is made

Of a softer soil than most

And those things that drop into it

The fallen and discarded

Find purchase in its richness

To spring forth in bright beauty

Watered by pains present and past;

This gift that took a lifetime

To learn its priceless place

In a hard and rocky world

Remains as music moving

Through the world’s painted halls

Teaching us to dance…

the world grows
and in it so do we

there are the kids
out there some where
working, laughing, crying
granddaughter Maven
being Maven in the best possible way

there is my love
moving like music
through this house
through my mind

i see the plants we care for
in the front yard
the grape vine along the fence
there is the cherry tree
there is the apple tree
grass and oak
pine and ash
in the house there is more
hanging in windows
sitting on counters

i see the cat
sitting in the smallest of drawers
to prove she can
there is the gecko
hiding in her cave
oblivious to all

there are microbes on my flesh
bacteria in my gut
so much life

like some endlessly repeating
living fractal design
ever smaller in space and time
different and the same
suggesting connections,
suggesting oneness.

some days i wander the house
like a man practising to be a ghost
haunting this space and that
incapable of sitting still;
i pick up a book and read a paragraph
then i put it down and browse headlines
glance into social media for the 100th time
but everything is different and the same
perhaps a shower? no i will make a tea
even my mind wanders along with me
no thought longer than 5 seconds
before the another one rushes in
and bludgeons the first to death
as the next waits impatiently in line

this is me,
a man vibrating himself to another realm
while still finding himself in this one

stand beyond the veil
and look and see
there are the pale
walkers in the rain
moving through the grey
of deep and heavy day
as you note
things are changing
while remaining the same
how, we wonder,
has the world arrived
to such a place,
to such a time,
how have any survived
to bear witness?

and we would throw it all away
for a little soft comfort;
every hard earned morsel
could be tossed to the trash,
every heart stabbed through
unsuspecting and off-guard
if only for a glance, a word, a touch;
we would kill our fellow travellers
without a thought
in hopes that future despair
would cover every current absent care
because this is who we are,
apes in fine clothing
pretending to be gods.

Look into the dark,
you will see us staring back…