In our questions
Lie our answers
We ask
Not because we don’t know
But because we do.
A Meaningful Story
Our stories disappear
And fade into quick oblivion
Leaving us with no meaning in our lives
Only to be reborn, reread and rewritten
By those who sense a resurgence of meaning
When they string together
Through strands of time
The charms of little nothings.
The problem is:
Nobody asks them
For whom stories have faded
What is it that keeps them from dying?
What remains in feeling, in essence, in residue?
Do they now understand reality?
And if they do…
Do they think it’s a meaningful story?
Placebo
The swallowed drink
With a shot of lime
Works its way within
And in no time
All my knots, my tensions
Come undone
I announce to the world
“I’m ready for some fun!”
“Life is good,” I say
And my mates agree
And we raise our
Glasses in cheer
We laugh, we tease
We jibe in fun
Crackling with wit
And intended pun
Much is spoken
Much is said
With great bravado
Without any dread
A drink permits
Both sinner and saint
To speak his heart
Without restraint
A tavern is a place
Designed for the game
Of people forgetting
All title and name
But all seasoned drinkers
A secret know
That the infamous drink
Is really a placebo.
Before You Entered, After You Left
I’ve seen events,
momentous as they were
fade away
I’ve been gripped by
affections, I thought were
for keeps
I’ve lost so much
to time, but I haven’t
lost presence…
I now understand
that the gifts
of time
Are not things
that are born and that
can die
But are those
that remain, when all
has left.
Time can’t take away
what it hasn’t
brought in.
See-through
I’ve come to see
That your kind words
Don’t stick
Neither do your opinions
Cause anything more than a fleeting awkwardness.
My deliverance from smallness-
(Sorry to disappoint you)-
Needs a more sophisticated design.
In a world of sound and fury
I wonder why silence exists
Why does it stay
And not leave?
Even when it is abused,
Ignored: not acknowledged
I befriend silence
And Understanding begins to claim its space within.
Now an expanse
It provides me with distance
And light
That can penetrate through smallness
And darkness
Your little schemes
Are not as tight in weave
As you think them to be.
Your body may be dressed
In fancy styles tailored to fit
But you are clueless about
The size and shape of your mind
Or its persona that challenges
Your ideas of who you are
Your little pretensions
Don’t cover it at all
You stand exposed
Your words are see-through.
Now that It’s Over
So much is over…
Who swallowed those capsules of time?
And if it’s over and gone
Why does memory live…?
…like a persistent ache
…like a question left unanswered…
Is my change true and final?
If I wasn’t that
Then am I certain I’m this?
Memory is seductive
It beckons me to return
A smoke that suggests a hidden flame…
I stand somewhere in between
What was and what seems to be
Baffled that neither is my ground
I’m wondering then…
What is my truth?
And what skin will cling to me
When this moment too, is over.
Remembrance Is Not Memory
Unaware of my truth
I created memories
Memories of me
Memories of you
Memories of sorrow…
And now
These memories torment me
They remind me of
Why it’s safer
To collapse, to suffer, to hide…
I watch a bird
Fearlessly stand on the ledge
Confident
That the chance of falling
Poses no threat.
I wonder…
Just for a moment
What must I remember
To find my wings when
I’m standing on a ledge overlooking memory.
Sunset
The light that had pervaded
the experiences
That I have come to describe
as my life
Had gathered itself into
a saffron orb
And now it stood before me-
all wise and glowing
All earthly latitudes
and longitudes
Mapping it in a poetic alignment
with the strains of my heart.
What does all this mean
I wondered…
Why is my life on a sprint
Appearing…disappearing…?
Why does my day begin
and end?
Why do our lives begin
and end?
What dawns and
What sets?
What exactly is gained and
what precisely is lost?
It’s in space and light that
my days unfold
And the stories that have
begun today
Will advance in plot
and complexity
Over days infused with
new light
But will I know
any better?
If not a day like this
What will a day of wisdom look like?
And now I’m thinking of
new questions
Does light have hope?
Do I disappoint her?
Does she expect me to meet her
with less indifference?
In what light must I see-
the light of the day?
Now that the day stands condensed before me
as the setting sun
I’m wondering about all the darkness
It has left me with…
Light will merge into light
It’s darkness that will live yet again
For a life-span of a night.
Sshhh…
Sshhh…
I’m trying to hear you
Behind the incoherence of your words
You dress them up in so many layers
They muffle up your meanings.
What do I make of your anger?
What do I make of your smile?
I’m trying to learn your speak
I’m trying to decode your spirit
The heart and mind-
They speak different languages
And somewhere in between
Lies your essence
You lie in between two warring worlds
A victim…
Of melting feelings and frozen expression.
An Opportunity
The everyday as I see it
Is a mask, a disguise
A mock constitution
Of half-truths and lies
You think you stand with a crowd
But you’re actually alone
The voices you hear around you
Are really your own.
Then why do I experience
The same world and the same you?
Why do I bring old eyes
To see the new?
We are in a sense blind
Till we begin to see
We’re born enslaved
And we must set ourselves free
How will such a freedom
Come to be mine?
Through the thick walls of my being
How will light come to shine?
Why does my heart, I wonder
Never utter a word?
Why does it suffer in silence
Never to be heard?
The mind is a vacuum
I’ve mistaken for a missing part
It sucks in fear and hate
That silences the heart
The heart will speak
When one is all of you
And not till you stand fractured
Dismembered into two
How do I join together
Parts of my being?
How do I accept your half-truths
As flaws in my seeing?
Where do I begin
Where do I make a start?
How do I silence my mind
And listen to my heart?
The heart I understand
Is the mind of a higher face
Its power of feeling
Removes all distance and space
Let me not just hear your bitter words
But of them also make sense
To the kaleidoscope of the everyday
Let me bring a whole new lens
The everyday is not
A displaced fragment of eternity
It’s what you are and
What you have the opportunity to be.
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 