If and when we start again

I hope I’ll be kinder

I hope I’ll be a better friend

Though I may need reminders


I wonder what will happen

When we recall the past

Will it darken and blacken

Or will it really last


Simple truths abound beyond,

Demanding their sad say

Do they know of whom I’m fond

or what I wish of this day

I tell myself, just stay strong but,

I only hope that you’ll stay

The Door

Beyond the walk there lies a door

Past the door are many more

It stretches beyond what we can see

Until we find eternity


The door has paint for many eyes

The colors blend and sometimes blind

They make up shapes and symbols for all

Creating fate and making thralls


There are those who focus on the door,

and others on where lies the floor

It matters not how you turn the handle,

nor whether you were quite the vandal

But what you do when that circles turned,

who you were and what you learned.



My Song

If and when I danced, I danced to their tune

Their pied piper play, took my worries away

I found a new appeal, a new way to see, a new way to breathe

I moved to their wavelengths, saw my own escapes


It all changed when another came along

He flitted and flew, sang his own song

I tried to change, make them see my range

But among all other things, they found me strange


I escaped the music, at last, finding a tune not quite so crass

Moving along my musical road, I listened to my song and never slowed

It slipped a leap deep within, let others see me spin and grin

It found me, this strange escape, found a much more fluid shape

I hear my own chords now and then, hear it in others who almost find their zen

But I don’t try to change for them, I’ll never allow my song to change again



We stand near a window, always looking down

Watching all the minnows, their schools flitting around

We laugh, we cry, living this of all our lies

Capering on point, where, life seems meaningless

Without understanding, reflections shine darkly-

Upon, those who would view others from up high




Without a Verse

If at once, you judge him well

and count the curse, without the veil

You would know, in times he failed

Without a verse, without a sail


Then I had heard, him say at last

This is no life, there is no mast

I have no point, I have no caste

For what is life, without a past


But here too he was wrong as all

Life is not a slow-rolling ball

It’s fast and free without a wall

And doesn’t care if you have crawled

So why not stand and face it first

Without a verse, fighting your curse

At the table

He sits quietly at the table

Thoughts are fading whispers, blending with the surrounding

They don’t know he’s unstable

Mental fissures abound, separate lives straining for release


Another speaks loudly

Contradicting the spoken rabble of unrecognizing fellows

They, use ignorance proudly

Acting as though the Tower of Bable were an umbrella of wisdom


He never wanted to sit in this chair

Dreams and glittering things always seemed so far

Now he finds his reflection stares

With marked dullness, eyes always ajar


There may further be hope

He’d known one or two to break away

But familial chains create rope

Settled lives require his day


Solace creates comfort on its own

Sacrifice the past for the future

His life is on loan

The father must be a producer


Galloping along the fevered road

Chronos calls us still

Instincts say it shouldn’t slow

Others feel terrors thrill

The night arrives, heat unbowed

Sun hasn’t had its fill

When icy burns announce their turns

We all pay the bill


Seeming in the multitudes
These lights, are, quite oddly hued
They snap and click like fireflies
Moving between, the lows and highs

The children move among them now
Without seeing, this I vow
They press in, then move away
Throughout the start and close of day

The hues, they change again!
From blue to a strange blend
I cannot see, for the light so blinds
Recalling such sweet bitter times

I’m moving toward the brillance now
Courage can’t let me bow
I stand within the strange accord
Feeling like a false bright lord

The children, they grow accustomed to me
Moving off in pairs or threes
The lights they grow dimmer as course
No adult should reach this source