Mr. Williams

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What to say when life’s away, when we knew our betters

Oh he was a fine man, just, quite unlike the rest of us

That pinnacle of strength, that hater of unneeded fuss

He died just like any other man, while only we knew the taste of bitter

 

Died? Murdered say I, Murdered by restriction, Murdered by fate

He lived and died by his own rules, his own way

None but those close could see, just what shone in his eyes

His prickled beard and sliding laugh, they all hid his cries

 

He touched a million hearts and minds, breaking life’s monotony

Lover of all, but never enough, to fill his empty hole

He brought us joy, filled our hearts with gladness, shivered along our souls

But in the end, fate decreed loudly, you’ll end life in agony

 

So there he sings, up with his wings, telling jokes from above

All we say, even to pray, may the earth lie light upon thee

The Collector

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She’s a collector of simple things

The breakdowns, the sheared hair, the open vein

She collects them all, nothing missed

If owned by lessers and their greaters

 

She places them in a box

Not a 7-sided thing like Pandora’s

But a box of light, remembering better times, and

opened with a key of understanding, a key of growth

 

She meanders as she walks, touching here and there

Always looking for her next trophy, her next piece of the puzzle

She doesn’t always find what she needs, but

she does always find a helping hand

When the night swiftly courses, bringing its daily offerings and empty platitudes

She walks her path, leaving resolution and missed cravings in her wake

 

 

America

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Let America be America again

When leadership becomes readership, we may have lost

When a diving rhetoric swallows the impoverished, we may have lost

When crossed lines fade and forget, we may in fact be lost

 

Let America be true again

Let it’s lost sons and daughters enter with a welcome

Let its fathers and mothers find their true value

Let its honesty break in waves against the buttresses of hatred

 

Let America shine again

Shine a light through its muckrakers on our baronies

Shine a halo on the poor and starved, saving our most needy

Shine through a shadow disgracing our great country, covering all with its malevolence

 

Allow America to find itself

Allow it to find it’s empathy, find it’s heart

Allow it to recall it’s roots, to hear it’s sweet music once again

Allow it time, time before it breaks, shatters into so many smaller kingdoms

 

 

Confidence

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In the palm there lies a two-headed coin

On one side lies arrogance, with its strut and pride

On the other lies confidence, with its strength and fallibility

When do the two become one? When should you rely on one and not the other?

There are times when arrogance is needed, when you know not what to do but need the appearance of the stronger

Just as there are times when confidence can be weakness, those times you believed you could accomplish the task but failed to ask for help

They both sound the same, look the same, act the same, but there is a difference within

The arrogant hold fear, the confident do not.

I know not which is better.

 

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Oh Zeus, you mighty god of passion

Why have you cursed so many with your lascivious nature

When Eros cast his arrows, did he miss your heart, hit your belly and fracture

Can you not feel for those you clubbed with your actions

G reatest of sons, patricidal bastard, did Cronus forget to teach manners

You created man, with all his worries and doubts, allowing monsters to form

You, Zeus, slapped weakness into men, making the birds and the worms

Yet you demanded prayer, holy construction, holding no standards

Is your lightning a symbol of strength, or  just a design for the uncontrolled

Your seed spread misery far more than love, yet proclaimed your love of men greatest of all

Twas not men you loved, nor the children, but the spreading of seed, the unnerving gall

When your time faded, it went quite fast, your heritage gone, your history’d erode

Thus have you left us, all caught in your clout, sprawling and flailing around

We, the progeny, still can’t disguise, that when it comes to men, we’re under-divine

The Gnomic Father Pt. 3

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Come child, come near and listen well

I’ll speak of the times we read, and why they matter

Reading takes you to another plane and place, allowing illusions to shatter

It will carry you through the harshest moments, when all feels like hell

 

You open the page and begin your journey, living vicariously

You’ll find a one whom you connect with, share their worries and fly

At any point, you can close the cover while never saying goodbye

You finish one, pick up another, living lives just as variously

 

That’s the value, that’s the destination, you find a life you didn’t know you’d want

And just as easily, you can put it down, then take it up when you need to escape

It matters not where you go, where you dwell, only open a book and stay awake

You’ll learn things, about yourself and others, it’s called getting smarter, try not to flaunt

 

Fiction and non, matters not at all, you’ll find a new purpose with every scrawl

So find your genre, find your precious niche, soon you’ll be happy, you’ll find a fairy with a wish

 

Spirituality

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The needs of all and shown in few

Spirituality, the light that bridges everyone

It needs no religion though many find that not true

It’s a connection, between the energy of one to the energy of all

The breaking down of a feeling, a touch of the soul on the body of the world

Description requires a broad mind with a narrow view, you just have to feel it

Find the warmest feeling you can, press it to the glass wall, spread it evenly then hold it to the heavens

You’ll find that the more we increase our connection of self, the greater we can create a connection to others, and thus increase our spirituality

Home

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Home is not walls, nor roof, floor, nor a set of french doors.
Home is a state of mind.
It’s a place we go to become ourselves
Home can be traveling the autobahn
It can be playing video games alongside friends with laughter vibrating in the airwaves
It’s finding a companion who needs you and learning you need them too
Home is a decision, a choice that this is where I’m most comfortable, this is where I can be myself.
Home is a state of mind, a state of being, and a statement of self.

Integrity

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The most honorable of traits are you

The hardest to see fulfilled

“Doing the right thing, even when no one is watching”

It’s the monkey on the back, the devil angel on one’s shoulder

What is right, that’s culturally subjective, right to one is wrong to another

I know of no villain more pervasive than rightness, no dictator weaker than integrity

It’s the lowest of traits expected in others, as we never know if they answer it’s call

Integrity is an invisible crown, worn by few but claimed by all

 

 

Goleta the Goodland

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I can’t recall a time, before Goleta the Goodland
It lingers in the veins, this destination of decency
It’s flavor a recollection of pleasant ideas
It’s sky a foggy memory to behold
I’ve not come across another town like it
It calls to the soul for a return
To smell the sea, hear the gulls, and swim it’s peopled currents
There is a time when you can see the heart of the town
It’s not at festivals or parades as is the norm of others
But at moments of elation in our children, their graduations and events
Traveling through the throng, you can see and hear pride and joy wistfully on the wind.
Goleta is a grand home, it’s land beautifully sculpted as if God wished for one single sanctuary on Earth
Maybe, perhaps, when I am a better man, I’ll be worthy to return