Category: Introspective Poetry

A Theory on Life’s Questions

Take a load off
Give up the struggle–
All those weighty questions
Spinning you in circles
Sapping the life out of you

Easier said than done–
I’ve ridden those circles–
Like wild ferris wheels
Taking me round and round
Till I’m silly dizzy, then dead

Perhaps a better word is deadened–
To the real life–
The one we were born to live, and
somewhere along the line set aside–
For all our questions

I’ve a theory on questions, and that is
the universe needs them to grow
They’re fertilizer–
Helping the world evolve consciously
and yes inquisitively

Questions make children grow up, and
they kill off their innocence–
Then kids become grown ups, and their questions kill them off
Now why is that?
The universe needs a rest from our questioning

It Feels Over

It feels over
Like the best part of me has ended
Leaving little of what I once called my life

It feels over
More water under the bridge
Than waiting its time to flow

It feels over
Accomplishments, getting things done
A looking forward to tomorrow

It feels over
No need for a calendar to remind me
Of what I used to look forward to

I can’t help but wonder
If it’s something I did, or didn’t do
That drove it all away

Confessions on a Bitter Cold January Morning

Slipping away each day
Life, but also illusion
Forgetting at times—
A good thing
Cleansing, renewing us
Purging the insanity
Killing off our joy

On this bitter cold January morning
The wildfire inside me rages
Consuming everything in its path
Including the faded goodness
I wear so proudly
As armor against death
And its deceitful bantering

The alchemist stirs the words
In familiar self-serving circles
The search for magic ends
No gold
Just more feeble incantations
Taking their turns
Dancing with time in poetic armor

See Me, Love Me for Who I Am

So much torment, doubt, unwillingness to accept
More than I can imagine, withstand sometimes
If only the world were different
If only certain things didn’t matter
Like how I get lost in myself
How confusion descends upon me
Like a thick heavy fog hovering all about

Help me, please
So I can help you, or others, in return
Understand me, please
Cut me some slack
As you do for others, yourself
Try to understand that I’m different
No two snowflakes are the same

Hold me, please, when I’m terribly afraid
I will hold you, should the darkest night fill your days
Look into my eyes, clouded with tears, even this sunny noonday
I will look back into yours without judging what I see
See me just as I am, incomplete, without hope sometimes
When needed, remind me there is something larger—
Something always worth living for

I am who I am
Though this I never intended, but I am
As a young boy, overflowing with curiosity, laughter, happiness
This was the last thing I would have considered
This was the last thing I’d hope to become
Please try best as you can
See me, love me for who I am

Note: This is an empathy poem written in recognition of those who suffer from mental illness in its many forms.

Our Place

There is this place
I begin and end in every day—
My daily launch pad into life
Special only to me
As yours is to you

When I was five
Growing up in Martins Ferry
I knew nothing of James Wright
His poetry, or that we all have our place
That goes far beyond geography

Now, I feel my limits
Like a vise grip, applied to unspeakable places
Places we all know
Places where we begin
And eventually end, placelessly

Those Who Watch But Cannot See

They love it—the voyeurs
Those who live by watching
Vicariously they live, feeding on others
Unable to see themselves
Even when they look in the mirror

The sun sets, suddenly, without warning
A glorious sight, but they missed it
Ever so subtle orange-yellow colors
Like those in first grade
When our crayons defied all lines
And when we cared only about life’s true colors

Yes, they missed the sunset
As their own heartbeat escapes them
Lurkers, mesmerized by others’ stirrings
Life for them—a spectator sport
To be watched, not lived

Tempted as we are—
We shouldn’t watch the watchers
That makes us just like them—
Blind, lifeless, empty
I say live!
Fill yourself with life
No need then for watching

Forget the Lies Today

False smiles, broken promises
Landfills of sorrow today
Tumbled hopes, shattered dreams
Long lost black and white photographs
Snapshots, another time, another day

For once, see the world clearly
The one moving through your veins
Forget the make believe ones
The one you lived yesterday
The one you planned for tomorrow

Stop pretending not to pretend
We all do it
Liars always know liars
They mock desperate lost fools
No absolution for their ways

Take your last chance
The one slipping between your fingers
Forget all coming before it
Let it lead your aching heart
Slowly dance, forget the lies today

Going Beyond Our Own Wishing

Did you ever wish
That somewhere along the line
Life would grow easier
More within your grasp
Less unpredictable
Further from what we all fear—death

Did you ever wish
Somehow those deemed lost
Might find their way
Might mysteriously survive
Like last minute sunrises and sunsets
Anything but a final ending

No use expecting or wishing
That truth will instantly clean up
Your bad and lost dreams
For what takes a lifetime to come
Also takes as long to pass
We must go beyond our own wishing

Pausing on a Late Thursday Morning

Blue sky, late Thursday morning
Sparse white clouds, to their music they play
Silver-green tree tops seem much closer
Out-stretched arms reaching my way

So many mysteries, all around me
Things no need to say
Causing my mind to wander
Far and wide, just beyond today

Bright sunshine on the driveway
Exposin’ cracks every which way
I see them, but forget them
The pavement is here to stay

Off in the distance, a siren
Cries of help, just before noonday
Sudden brisk wind from heaven
Sweeping all tears away

How We Get There

I think back
Remembering
The life I left behind
The life forever hanging
On the wings of time

The very same wings and life
Carrying me moment to moment
Breath to breath
To new parts of myself
Parts yet unborn

You ask if I’ve changed
Since shedding my last skin
My eyes blink
A new world appears
No need to answer your question

I stare ahead
Where they keep the future
I only see what my eyes allow me
I am wedded to my feet
With one in front of the other, the future appears

Forest Sunlight

There is sunlight in the forest today
Sifting through the trees
Like a luminescent waterfall
Crushing all darkness below

There is sunlight in the forest today
Where fawn-spotted mushrooms grow
Where lurks the red-tailed hawk
Whose back shimmers in the sun’s white rays

There is sunlight in the forest today
Guiding home all those lost
Illuminating the trail by the little stream
We hear only when it rains

There is sunlight in the forest today
It falls on my uplifted face
Bearing my soul
To the heavens above

Stormy Weather

Inside all of us, storms aplenty
Some predictable, others sudden, without warning
Thunder, lightning, heavy rain—
We survive, all parts of life
Hurricanes, tornadoes, cyclones, tsunamis—
Always deeper, more devastating
Often more than we can withstand

Watch we must, our inner radar screen
Observing for changes, signs of what’s to come
Never perfect information though
Each moment abides in its own flow
Carrying us to its eye
Where there is peace
But no seeing beyond

Storms come and go
Like the wind—
Sweeping us into surrender
Into places where we must change
To transcend ourselves and survive
To find safe harbor
That place beyond all stormy weather

Our Inner Life Condition

Inner life condition, more than anything
Gives rise to our joy and satisfaction
Little else really matters
Nothing else can save us from the demons
We’ve carried around since birth—
The demons we must lose before we die

What is in our hearts
What brings our minds peace
Speaks louder than any words
Saying more to others
About who we are
Whether we’re worth the time
To know as a friend

While many, perhaps most
Strive for happiness in the outer realm
Our souls can never abide there
We are but single heartbeats
Echoing across a vast canyon of moments
But we are those heartbeats
And that’s all that will ever matter

Dreams Come True

Do you remember when you were nine
And you dreamed, without sleeping
Of travel to far-off places
Being a major league baseball hero
Discovering long-lost worlds
Where extinct Indians lived
And being so rich
That nobody in your family ever had to work

You’ve done all of these things
But in ways you never imagined
And for reasons you never expected
You’ve traveled inward
Discovered your own long-lost world
Rediscovered friends you thought gone forever
You are the hero of your own life story
And you have a richness way beyond money

All your dreams have come true
Even the tiny ones
That open vast life doors
And most of the large ones
That you thought could only be dreams
So you sit, watching clouds drift
Across bright blue sky
Now you see it’s all just a dream

Watching the Friday Night Fights with Dad

Dad watched the fights every Friday night
I learned that to be close to Dad
You watched the fights with him
We never talked directly to each other
Only through the televised action
On our old black and white Philco

Dad’s eyes never left the set
Occasionally he’d make fists
With his large calloused workingman’s hands
And throw a calculated punch here and there
I did the same
My smaller writer’s hands mimicking his jabs

Boxing seemed brutal
Downright Neanderthal
But somehow you knew–
Fighting was a real part of life
Completely inescapable
And any life situation could be the ring

As a seven-year old
I had no idea
That life was an endless boxing match
Not limited to Friday nights
Usually not a spectator sports
And most often, you had to be your own referee

When Hope Returns

Sorrow, the name you wear
When darkness falls
Covering your sunshine
Holding your happiness at bay

Loneliness, the face you share
When parts of you disappear
Like some lost ghost
Filling your soul with emptiness

Despair, last words you speak
When all else fails
Leaving you close to the edge
That narrow path your life walks

Then, for no reason
Except nothing else is left
Hope reappears
Taking away all that cries inside you

Sunday Morning Metaphysical Journey

Think back, as far as possible
Remember your first breath, if you can
Then go beyond
To when the future
First passed through you
And left you as a trace in time

Return to the place
Where past, present and future are one
To where when began in your life
And you made your first distinctions
Between this and that
You and everything else

Go beyond all recordings, all traces of time
To the first moment
When illusion took hold in your life
It is there, and only there
You will find peace
And there, you can be without any remembering

Ponderings

It’s not clear
What separates us
From nature, each other
Even certain parts of ourself
We never knew existed
Until we fall flat on our face
Flatter than the horizon
On a hot July afternoon

Then we know
We are not who we think we are
And the world doesn’t exist
To serve, or even enable us
In some arcane remote way
Like how truth follows a butterfly
Or how there is no saving a balloon
From the end of a pin

Funny how such entitled thoughts
Like those featuring us
At the very center of the universe
Pop up and dominate us
Like our third grade teachers
Who taught us fresh air
Helps us avoid cold germs
Yet I wonder, even with all this
Can we ever avoid death?

Overcast Friday

Overcast spring day
Clouds overhead
Blocking the sun
No telling how long they’ll stay

Clouds hovering inside
Those we wish to hide
Hoping for a breeze
To blow them all away

Suddenly a gust of wind
No budging the clouds
Rain soon on its way
Clouds and tears today

No sadness
Just a longing
Short passing feeling
Gray Friday, what can I say

Transcending Ego

Into my life you staggered
like some teetering drunk in the night
I fed you, gave you a place to rest
Eventually we became friends, then lovers

I loved you, almost as much as I love myself
This love’s ended, but you’re still here–
parading about naked in broad daylight
Even worse, lurking about as a ghost in my dreams

I built you up, you tore me down
I gave you my best, always you demanded more
I drew up separation agreements, time and time again
You never signed any of them

Why are you still here?
There’s nothing left to give you, or myself
What can I give you
that will make you go away, forever?

Even your silence draws life out of me
There is no peace as long as you’re here
No peace until I forget your name
No living until you’re dead

Not even death can extricate me
from your insatiable wantings
For somehow, you’ve embedded yourself
even in my own dark death wish

Beware, for I shall be watching you
as I sit in motionless silence
Without thinking, without doing
Watching you pass away into emptiness

Growing Old and Wondering

Old faces, filled with time
Flash back what’s to come like heat lightening
taking the long road home

Lost smiles, fretful grimaces, contorted frowns
All sides of broken triangles
Lonely whispers awaiting blind supplication

Like wayward priests in intercession
Clouds, filled with tomorrow, rain hard
on barren fields, left alone in fallow adoration

Weak, knees trembling, arms outstretched
Imagined saviors climb down from still green crosses
Crucification waits at least one more day

Without warning, or reason
another day is born from today’s seeds, and
more time fills our aging faces

Lingering Life Questions

Where do you live?
Does this place bring out the best of you?

How do you live?
Does your lifestyle give something back to others?

Who have you surrounded yourself with?
Is your social network a true reflection of the real you?

How do you spend your time?
Is most of your time in service to yourself or others?

Who do you believe you are?
Can your life transcend these beliefs
and allow you to be fully present?

I don’t have all the answers–
just a few questions I try to ask myself periodically.

Preening Doves in Early Morning Light

Two doves preen fluffed feathers in dim early morning light
They ready for breakfast, the start of a new day
A couple, forever committed
Through thick and thin, a pair for life

Like the doves, life’s interwoven paths: happiness and meaning
From happiness…joy, from meaning…connection
For some of us, it must be one or the other
For all, it is each every day in some measure

Not unlike the sun and moon sharing the day
Each brings reflective light to our lives
The sun…nourishing light growing the world around us
The moon, our souls aglow, feeding our inner beings

Some days, we feel lightless
as happiness and meaning play hide and seek
Other days, the sun’s penetrating rays beat down on us
and the moon’s upending tides wash over us

Two doves preen fluffed feathers in dim early morning light
They ready for breakfast, the start of a new day
Like the two doves, such is light in our lives, and
the happiness and meaning growing from that light

In Others We See Ourselves

Met a man just the other day
Who exactly I can’t say
Lost in time, with no plan
Just another hopeless man

A lonely man, walking a distant road
On his back, an unbearable load
Too tired, too worn, to even care
Naked, empty, nothing left to share

A crumpled man, prematurely old
No life it seemed, left to unfold
Passionless, frail, so very thin
No family, friends, next of kin

A man whose life passed him by
No one there to hear his cry
Like all other men, or you or me
Bound to death, can’t break free

His face, so very worn
Darkened eyes, filled with scorn
Face and eyes, lost in time
Life forsaken, without rhyme

Not till at home, did I see
There I heard his desparate plea
For meaning, love and purpose be
Essential things, you would agree

Disturbed me so, this war torn man
Felt his load, my life did scan
Across the room in the mirror
My own life became more clear

His ghost, shadow, phantom be
Strangely now, a part of me
How you ask, can that be
Look in the mirror, you will also see

Winter’s Soul

Cold winter night
Star-fed sky, reaching upward
Like stairs, we climb
To a higher place–
Beyond where we normally go

Cold winter night
Frozen breath on hard blue lips
Brittle realities, like death
Snap and crack our worlds into pieces
No whole holding them together

Cold winter night
Razor-thin sharp edges on dull faces
Reflecting lost memories back to us
Like moonlight’s cold hands
Gripping our hearts till we surrender

Cold winter night
It comes and finally goes
We survive, this time
Huddled fireside, quiet shadows sit
Slowly, we hear their stories

How Life Seemed One January Morning

Sorrow falls where happiness fails
Laughter, tears, endless trails
Beyond that place we usually hide
Much deeper still we must abide

Sprinkled through the life we live
Magic’s touch, we must forgive
Life and death writ upon our hands
Each trickles through us, life’s fine sands

Never knowing where or when
Moments pass, new ones begin
All around us, what we’ve brought forth
Waiting within, our true north

So much to ponder, but more to live
Often wonder, what to give
Never knowing where or when
Moments pass, new ones begin

Freehand drawing, life appears
Moves us past all the tears
Never knowing where or when
Moments pass, new ones begin

In Between Place

You know me
but you don’t
At least not
as I know myself

I know you
but I don’t
At least not
as you know yourself

Somewhere in between us
there is an intersection
we create to discover, and
get to know each other

And, somewhere beyond
this place we know
there is another place
taking us past ourselves

That place is where
real knowing occurs
and where the boundary
between us disappears

New Year’s Day

January 1, 2008
A new year begins as a quiet dark morning
flirting with wet snow and freezing rain
No hangover, thankfully
More expectation than regret, thankfully

No fireworks ending the old year
No need even for a sharp demarcation
between old and new, or
what was and will be
Yet, so many subtle memories, wishes, dreams

The first day of a new January
No fanfare, frenzy, or even football
The finale of a wonderful holiday season
filled with joyous sounds, familiar loved faces
bright lights, much giving and receiving

Today, one for inwardness…
a cut below the skin, probing something deeper
Cherishing last year’s gems
Some looking ahead, pondering possibilities, and
thinking beyond myself

It’s true…time flies as we grow older
So it seems in my harried, hassled, overworked life
which miraculously finds more joy than sorrow
more pleasure than pain, and
a nice balance between meaning and happiness

So, on this New Year’s Day…
no maudlin reflections
no arcane promises
no pretentious claims
Simply a new beginning with hope

Within the Shadows

Something wild rages
just out of reach of the sun’s touch
and beyond the moon’s forever lost call
An unspeakable wildness somehow we know

And down below, and beyond
the incarnate always walk alone, and dance
at midnight with the eternal flame
extinguishing the inner darkness

And in those shadows
the empty hollows fill with twilight’s wonders
and silence clings to our soul
like dreams to our first waking breath

And should danger appear, remember:
He that dwelleth in the secret place
of the most High shall abide
under the shadow of the Alimighty

Footnote: Last stanza from Psalms 91:1

Our Stations in Life

Stations in life
Places we find ourselves
Often when we least suspect it

Positions we assume
Unknowingly and otherwise

Parts of our journey
Sometimes journeys within journeys

Once conscious
always offering us a view
if we choose to look

A place for seeing, and
escaping what we don’t want to see

As simple as looking into someone’s eyes
Reflecting on a conversation
Giving up what you want deeply
Letting go of one station
without the next one being known

On Being Present

Don’t look back, you’ll only see
A faint, disappearing reality
Your past may beckon, set it free
Things behind you, let them be

Ahead of you, the future lies
Much to come, a surprise
Look ahead, if you will
But careful not, the present kill

Always in the now you are
Dangling even, from afar
Soon enough, the future comes
Now again, it becomes

Time escapes all of us
In between, we are thus
No matter where you are sent
Try your best, be present

Saturday Evening Fireside Reflections

Life…
That which breathes
Returns breath, and
ventures forth into death

Death…
That needing no breath
Beyond immediate comprehension
Waiting on all of us

Breath…
Borrowed at best
Wind, blowing through us
Carrying us to death’s doorstep

Truth…
Breath’s best friend
Always a step away
Everything we are and beyond

The end…
Filled with new beginnings
Always escaping us
Infinity’s juxtaposition

Our Timeless Souls

Beginning of time–
a starting place for the clock
but not for you, or me
Too often, the clock
married to time, enslaves us
locking us into one dimension
missing all others

Too often, we lose track
of all that exists outside time
Like the soul, which is timeless
knowing nothing of minutes, hours
days, months and years
To the soul, a minute is a year
and a year but a minute

It’s easy to mistake
what beckons us deeply
for the clock’s ticking
and time’s insistent prodding
It’s easy to forget
time reaches only so far
and the soul so much farther

Seeing the Real Me

Sometimes I wish
I could see myself differently–
as I really am
Free of all illusion
expectation, and
most of all pretense

Sometimes I wish
the actors, plays
and the drama they bring forth
would go on strike
Refusing to perform
Leaving an empty stage

Sometimes I wish
I could step past
all that built up
over my lifetime
and step onto stage
as just myself

Starlight Twinkle

Starlight twinkle
Long early November night
Memories linger ever deeper
Beyond where daylight penetrates

Times before tomorrow
Lost forever midnight
Loose thoughts
lie among the pieces

Willful smiles
Way beyond the ages
Leave us, without answers
Words, but no delight

I will forever wonder
What is done is right
In shadows, lie the answer
Amidst the dawn, early moonlight

Note: A feeling type poem.

What Draws Us Back

Combing the years for answers
Something, helping me find
what I thought was lost
that turned out never to exist
in the first place

This backward-looking
Far more than nostalgia
Closer, perhaps, to an obsession
Clinging to old feelings
still looking for a home

Deep down, I know
there is no going back, yet
even deeper down I know
I want to go back
just to come back around again

What haunts me, drives me–
back to events, people and places
more imagined than real, and
even more ineffable today
than what I thought was real back then

My obsession, an equal longing
for what is deeply simple, within grasp
and what is inaccessible and totally illusive
like the light from a distant star
taking years to reach us

Yet, it is this light
keeping me awake nights
It is this light
coming from so very far
stirring me back in time

Partial Awakening

fast asleep
the world turns
at a moment’s notice
in unforeseen directions
like those carrying us, back
to our adolescent years

awakening, slowly
still filled with dreams
leftover night promises
then, morning comes
washing away
what was never there

only then, cleansed
we glimpse something beyond
self-deception, misperception
something, we ourselves
must wear inside us–a curtain
hiding us from ourselves

In Search of God They Murder

Many over 10,000 pounds
standing 10 to 12 feet tall
Among God’s most grand creatures
Hunted, brutally slaughtered for their tusks
Senselessly stripped of life

And for what?
Just to feed a mindless fetish
for ivory pendants and trinkets
designed to ward off evil
and move souls closer to God

Wouldn’t this journey to God
be much shorter
without such evil, and simply
following the elephants’ footsteps
into the summer sunset?

People of the Lie

Liars await around every corner
Coming in all shapes and sizes
Peddling deceit
Twisting truth
Dodging what truth demands

Rather than give in to reality
they cling to ego’s shadows
hiding under layer upon layer of lies
Though they pray for light
only darkness comes

The liar jeopardizes our integrity
befalls our character
sucks out our dignity
rubs away our goodness, and
ultimately robs us of who we are

There is hope
You can fight back
against the people of the lie
Not by changing them, but
by honoring the truth inside yourself

Note: M. Scott Peck, M.D., a psychiatrist, Christian
theologian and well-known author, wrote a disturbing,
but tremendously insightful book called People of the Lie:
Hope for Healing Human Evil in 1983. Peck was perhaps
best known for his 1978 book The Road Less Traveled.
I heard Peck talk in the Cleveland area about both books
in 1984. M. Scott Peck died in 2005.

Truth Within Our Midst

Flirt with truth
You may find more than bargained for
Reach inside, beyond where questions go
Answers arise from deepest confusion

Yield to the moment’s beckoning
Speculation subsides
leaving the here and now
to tell it’s own story

Challenge your deepest weakness
There you find your bottom
reaching to the ocean’s floor
where time starts over

Then, before everything begins again
let your heart dwell
just beyond all surface awareness
There, give time a chance to return

Awaiting Morning’s Light

Throughout the night
moonlight swept through long dark trees
standing deathly still
waiting for morning’s quiet return

Near the creek
high above the forest bed
a familiar barred owl calls out
claiming stray moonbeams his prey

Ghost-like, shadows hover
between trees and beyond
to places figured lost
save their fortuitous lingering

Somewhere, in the spaces between
what’s known and what can never be found
the night slips into my soul, and
so shall I also wait for morning’s light

Autumn Changes in Our Lives

The air turned suddenly cold last night
Not bitter and biting, like lifetime anger
festering in the soul
but cold enough
freezing helpless leaves
making them wince in pain

Taking her orders straight from the top
Autumn brings down and colors up
what eventually passes
Giving way to Old Man Winter
his long thick white beard
and deep frosty breath

Perhaps a good night for a fire, warming us
to impending changes in the weather and ourselves
Not a mandate for winter coats yet
but certainly an occasion for donning
that heavy wool sweater smiling at us
from the dresser’s bottom drawer

All this said and done
Autumn readies us, for what is to come…
transformational change, like that brought on
by the marriage of death and rebirth
Like that touching us
in our final working years, just before retirement

Strangers to Life’s Inevitable Suddenness

You forget the golden sunrise, letting
the shifting sands of time, slip
through your fingers, like
life falls off the bones
of subtle lonely strangers

Knowing nothing of the waiting
shadows linger deep
just out of reach of tomorrow, where
hearts ready in quiet desperation
haunt us, then let us go

And then, just before surrender
to what beckons
you rewind, and
in your own unique suddenness
the inevitable happens

Cat and Mouse Games

Cat and mouse–
one game I try not to play, but
one playing its way
through my life and yours

Watch and you’ll see
There is no pretending, or
disinterested play, for
every move is life or death

For the cat, it’s all in the hunt
As for the mouse, it’s about slipping away
evading capture, and
living to tell tales of the mythical adventure

Don’t fear its reality, cat or mouse
but enter dog, and cat becomes hunt’s object
mouse slips free, and
the cycle continues

Like so many things in life
Cat and mouse become part
of something larger–
something even the hunt cannot contain

Beyond What’s Apparent

Think of the odds
unthinkable as they are
Imagine something, beyond
where imagination usually leads

Find yourself, midstream
between what’s known and anything other
searching for the crack, expanding
across the cosmic egg you call your life

Hatch the truth–
not at all perfect, often missed
accessible though, if you linger
just beyond your denial

In all this
go beyond what you know
Find what nobody knows you have
What you don’t know you have

There, you’ll find your way–
the way you lost
whose end wants
just one last beginning

Saturday Sunsets and Promises Beyond

Of all things
happiness, above
everything else imagined
all things promised

Climbing, far ahead
Higher, than the most perfect sunset
Clamouring beyond
even best Saturday night promises

Taking us, down
life’s most worn path
time knows so well, but
finds no end in sight

There, and only there
truth curls up next to
tall sleeping lies
awaiting the next Saturday sunset

What It Takes

Not at all clear what it takes
to make it in a world
where success is all numbers
and truth is strictly quality
Clearly, more is not better

I have my doubts
You’re entitled to yours
that anything better
than more of the same will happen
when the motive is just getting by

Something different is needed
of you, me and all others concerned
if we’re to get past status quo
and march in brave new directions
where no one has been

And, in all this
we must be prepared to accept
that everything possible can be done
and still, it isn’t enough
to take us where we need to go

Hanging in Pristine Nakedness

Too often, too much
At times, not enough
Then, when we’re satisfied
something new arises
moving us, to yet another new place

Usually a place we’d never find, unless
the world slows down enough
letting us catch up
letting us surpass ourselves
and find more truth than lies

More solid, dependable ground
than turbulent soil
undermining our sense of hope
Releasing us from banality
like every beach releases its sand

And once the beach disappears
and all her sand is gone
we’re left, hanging
like the new moon
in pristine nakedness, before the sun rises

October Full Moon

Why does the October full moon
seem so lonely, yet so bright?

Why does her luminous light
seem so still, without flicker?

Why does solitary moonlight
fill my dreams with deep mysteries
keeping me awake as I sleep?

Why does the moon remind me
there is more to life
than what the sun can show?

Why do such questions
linger inside me
like hungry grey wolves
scouring the woods for prey?

Why is there no rest, until
I make peace with this October moon?