Clowning

27 March 2013

 

 

Clowning

 

 

saline obscurities

evoke no sympathy,

so dry and powder your face,

clown white, masquerade,

painted smile, but guilty as charged!

 

Vow future silence, your private sins purged!

Perhaps surreptitiously, you violated your own

basic instructions. Therefore, I cannot condone

this circus.

No more clowning around.

Be afraid be very afraid

26 March 2013

Be afraid, be very afraid

"I’m not crazy I’m just a little unwell" — Matchbox 20

I know what you are thinking,

"he’s out of his mind!"

but aren’t we all?

 

It’s a dark, scary place sometimes,

my mind I mean,

not to mention my heart!

 

I know, I’ve been there,

in both, over and over again.

Trust me, it’s not safe inside.

 

For your own protection

I’ve posted warnings:

Enter at your own risk!

 

Beware of the Shadows!

Caution: Do Not Feed the Monster!

Do Not Touch!

 

I know it is crazy, this masquerade,

but I’m probably more afraid of you

than you are of me.

Sadly just visiting

26 March 2013

Sadly, just visiting

 

I love going to the SPCA,

spending a few minutes with the dogs

and hours with the kittens and cats.

 

Giving love and attention,

treats and verbal affirmations,

playing with as many as I can …

 

I hate when it is time

to say goodbye, time to leave

with a full heart and empty arms.

I wanna be like Mike

26 March 2013

I wanna be like Mike

 

I always wanted to play

like David Gilmour.

I mean, I could play the notes

but I didn’t have his touch,

his passion,

his soul …

 

I always wished I could write

like Sylvia Plath.

I mean, I could write the words

but I didn’t have her passion,

her voice,

her soul …

 

I always wanted to

sing like,

paint like,

be as handsome as,

be as intelligent as,

be a spiritual leader like …

 

Suddenly, one day

I realized what I really wanted

was to find out who I was,

my words,

my passion,

my soul …

 

and I didn’t want to be like

anyone but myself.

with thoughts of you

26 March 2013

with thoughts of you

 

Sleepless …

but not in Seattle,

just here,

where I’ve always been.

 

Crickets and Water,

softly serenading me,

a reminder,

of a place I used to be,

 

A happy place,

where I used to go, alone

to sit, and just be quiet,

when I had no words.

 

Tonight my mind,

tumbles like a gentle stream,

coming from, going to,

carried along.

 

And I sit here,

pretending I am there,

waiting,

for the water’s wisdom.

 

… with thoughts of you.

9

24 March 2013

9

 

Solitary,

by circumstance and necessity,

not choice,

I’ve withdrawn —

journeying far,

within and without.

 

A guide for those who

would follow, not me,

not my example,

but their own process,

their own way through,

their own experience,

their own path.

 

Wisdom can be shared,

but ultimately, we all know

or can discover all we need to know

within.

 

Awaken the sleeper,

quiet the noise, then listen.

Wear the cloak of contemplation,

see through your illusions —

you are your own only obstacle!

 

I hold forth the lantern of self-awareness.

Illumination is a gift, freely given,

not held out arrogantly.

 

Lean on your own staff of wisdom,

support yourself in your journey.

No one else will.

 

Do not concern yourself with

"getting and spending" as much as

meeting your own inner needs.

Wisdom comes with maturity,

experience of what really matters.

 

And if you should attain the peak,

hold forth for another to follow,

validate others’ journeys,

encourage their faltering steps

as someone once did for you.

Legend

21 March 2013

Legend

Like an angry swarm of bees,

growing angrier by the second,

mom canvassed the neighborhood,

calling out my name,

asking anyone she saw if

they had seen me.

 

It wasn’t that I was missing,

just that she thought I was.

 

Exasperated, she returned home,

bitching and complaining

to my younger sisters,

yelling and threatening to mete out

severe punishment when she found me!

 

My sisters laughed, only making it worse,

then finally told her:

"Mom, calm down. He is in his room,

in his bed sleeping!"

 

She just assumed,

never bothered to even look.

 

We laughed about it later

and it became one of those stories

mom always told,

until it became almost legendary.

Between 0 and 1

21 March 2013

Between 0 and 1

 

I ignore the dangers,

perhaps naively.

Maybe I just like flirting with

the edge,

perfecting my balance

without losing it?

 

Every fool must learn,

become grounded

in his own abilities,

transform the uncontrollable

into something less mysterious,

at least to himself.

of Spanish rice & electric skillets

20 March 2013

of Spanish rice & electric skillets

 

What’s beyond stubborn?

I would make Balaam’s donkey

seem cooperative!

But if memory serves me right,

 

I was young, five or six,

and it was lunch.

Spanish rice with huge chunky tomatoes,

green bell peppers, onions,

 

cooked to perfection (supposedly)

in mom’s favorite, all-purpose,

torture device:

the electric skillet.

 

Dad ate it, mom too,

older brother and sister even,

but not me! No way!

I refused!

 

(like Jonah, only I couldn’t try to run away

and get swallowed by a whale

for two or three days and nights.

I missed all the fun.)

 

"You’re not leaving this table

young man until you at least

try it!"

Wanna bet?

 

Nearly twelve hours later,

after scolding and spanking,

begging and pleading, mom

finally relented.

 

I was sent to bed hungry, but I knew

I had won and I would never

have to eat anything I didn’t like

ever again.

 

(well until I was married …

but as they say,

that’s another story!)

Karma, ya know?