I can’t tell you how to live
but I know what dying is like
and can say take each day
and hold it like your child.
kiss it, love it and never let go
:: 05-27-2014 ::
Tag Archives: #life
HOW TO DIE
THE ANCHOR STONE
When you awaken
do you get up into
the sinking —
inside of you?
it’s three feet below the bed
where you rest your head
at the foot of —
an anchor-stone
I can only ask because I know
the weight of that stone
kept me three feet below —
the resting bed
until one day I arose
up into the sun
when I awaken
that’s where I go
:: 05-28-2014 ::
IF I WERE BORN
IF I were a bird and born
with no feathered wings
our skies would give me love
and the gentle rains
should cleanse my eyes
If I were born that beating heart
within my soul I’d find my wings
and my tiny-throat trilled songs
would lift my soul and there I’d fly!
:: 05-22-2014 ::
MY ANCHOR OF THORNS
Despair is an anchor
with thorns —
it drowns the ship
and sinks the soul
and the hull,
a skin that bleeds
A heart — the oar
that paddles ashore
Best to use
a blessed life vest
when a storm —
that despair comes
and wisely glue shut
that gapping hawse
:: 05-15-2014 ::
I SHOULD WISH TO BE
i should wish to be, gain
from conception through
little feet, baby breath too
a clean slate of possibilities
i should wish to be, again
the admiration of loved ones
if i should be — again
what i was before the now
i would take a different path
such a dream i give —
my solemn vow
:: 05-16-2014 ::
PARK BENCH BAKED SEAT
the grief, such a little pinch
a park bench baked seat
we too, bench and me
like the park, solemnly
where do birds fly
— my wonder, undercover
beneath the last refrain
of nature song fades…
surely not within me?
nor the park bench baked seat
which soulfully comforts me
such song (and birds) n’er die
but this grief surely will!
:: 05-16-2014 ::
PSYCHOLOGICAL CAGE
I walked across the tender land
of a sun-baked road in skin
and the buzzards flew each step
I came across a road kill too
and the carcass smiled at me
‘so here you are in your world,
so small and captured too’
I walked past the dead philosopher
— a raccoon with a smile twisted,
and I felt caught in a psychological
cage of dreams with heat on my heels
I kept my pace and came across
a river of life and it was good
a magical being greeted me, said,
‘don’t ever let them see you bleed,
and never let them see you need.
Life, will make you cry —
living will bake you dry
caught up in a psychological cage
let me be, just let me die!
So, the road you walked came to an end
and the sign post said a few things
‘Welcome to nirvana my sweet dear friend,
you won the lottery of enteral bliss.’
What the fu*k is this psychological,
metaphysical trap of tar pit dreams
we fight to win love and smiles in?!?
‘Never let them see you smile
dream a life of wonderful dreams
and whatever makes you smile!’
said the dead philosophical raccoon
:: 05-11-2014 ::
ODE TO ETUDES OP. 25, NO. 12 IN C MINOR (CHOPIN)
Passion
where is thy heavenly gift
Beg
I do for pastures of romance
Love
thee — angel follow me too
Kindness
compassion for all thy life
Understanding
wisdom from burning fire
Heaven
thou, dream I giveth prayer to
Love
is thy reason for living life
and desire
for love
escapes thy flesh
afire angelic wings
kissing devil’s lips
a Christ-passion
for all high and low
:: 04-29-2014 ::
RIVER OF LIFE
It was so beautiful
before this age
and that died for love
I did a difficult day
when the water i met
and left the world
now back am i
and have to say
nothing has changed
memories of a past
which helps does not
beautiful is life!
but humans still beasts!
who killed me
more than once
but praise I do
that River of Life!
:: 04-29-2014 ::
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