Lost In Paradise

I’ve tried being good, really,

And all I got was a mouthful of

Angry of the permanent kind.

The whispers in my ears got

Louder the more I shouted “No!”

And all my organs came together

To filibuster against the

Very thought of it.

I wanted to cultivate

Kindness and stabilize the

Dance with those I love,

But all the sweetness got me

Was an empty heart and a

Home echoing what might have been.

Meanwhile the angels

Were laughing and pointing to

My separateness, which I

Adopted before I knew

That stars don’t shine through the fog.

Awake, Again

Only in my mind is happiness

Equated with more and left

To wither on the banks of life.

I’ve eaten breakfast with my fears and

Grew tired of the moaning and

Wringing of hands at every

Turn of serendipity.

Tomorrow I vowed to awake today

And take myself back into

The secret places where

Joy sleeps amid the ruins of

Endless striving.  “Awake!”, I say,

“I’m back from the sleeping and

Wanting to play.  

I Should Have Known

I made the mistake of letting
A frightened part of the world
Into my psyche this morning.
A flash of images
Crying out in fear
At the sight of me.
A hall of mirrors showing
People their ghosts clothed
In transgender red flags
Waving across their blindness.
I should have known better,
And now I'll spend hours
Painting over the angry words
Scrawled on the fence around
My heart.

A New Day

The sun was warming the clouds

This morning when I first

Stepped out my door and began

The next chapter of a journey into

A different time.  

The bright orange clouds  hit the pale blue sky 

Like a cymbal clash,

So that only the birds could stay in tune.

This doesn’t scare me anymore.

I’m ready for the blindside to be my day.

Another Day

I’m gone now,

Though I didn’t mean to be.

I meant to paint the day with

Bright colors and deep thoughts,

Swinging wildly from book to

Breezy presence of minds.

Yet here I am, stuck with

A dullness and bone tired,

And still resolved not to

Down two cups of coffee

Before thinking. 

Holding Tight

A cold wind blows

When minds have no

Thought for others.

It tries to open doors forcefully

But only gets tighter holds

On old ideas protecting

Faint hearts from new

Life and the possibility of

Losing something inside.

Another Lens

Gone are the days when only

Children walked the streets

And sidewalk chalk enclosed

A sweet, playful world.  

The time came when everything had

To be filtered through the lens

Of stuff-ness; divided and dissected

Until nothing was left unknown.

And then the sidewalk turned to sand

And the winds blew hot and demanding

Their due.  Did you think that

All the certainty would quench your

Thirst for truth?  Then take a glass

Of bitterness, for you lived the illusion.

But first go back and see again,

The move to grasp could be a time of

Playfulness as well.  

To take and make and mold

Can be a prelude to the act of magic.

Only see the thing again as

Whole and all is well.