Atmosphere

Up here in this atmosphere

Above the poking, choking smoke and

All the listless, fistless mist that

Wants to take my breath away,

I’m content to wait and watch

The hapless, notchless goings-on,

The mindless, spineless nowhere songs

The people chant each day.

 

Grace has found me humming tunes,

Crooning croons on higher ground,

Leaping bounds not set by man

Onto the grand plateau

Where air is sweet as sassafras

And feet have never wrinkled grass,

Where honey flows and longing grows

To heights nobody knows.

 

Somewhere in this atmosphere

The word is hidden dark and deep.

Keys to unlock every door;

Promises to keep.

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The Parade

So many people

         Lining the byways

                 From curb to picket fences

                          As far as the eye can see.

Young boys on

         Their father’s shoulders

                 Straining hard to

                          Catch a glimpse of

Something special,

         Something shiny in the distance.

Sirens blasting

         With such fury

                 Dogs and children

                          Want to run.

Clown balloon-man

         Passing favors

                 Sad-faced mime

                          Brings silent joy.

Stalwart veterans

         At attention,

                 Heart salute as

                          Glory passes.

And the band plays

         J.P. Souza

                 As a memory ensues.

Strike the chords and

         Sing the chorus.

                 Fill the air with

                          Joyous muse.

Run the gamut

         Of emotion

                          In a game

                                  You cannot lose.

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Take a Chance

Chances are

Your chances

Are a chance you have to take

If your dances and romances

Leave all logic in their wake,

And you are left to contemplate

The heel of your mistake

As the latest of the greatest

Walks away.

 

There will be joy.

There will be pain

And sorrow mixed with ecstasy,

But that’s the way it’s always been,

The way that it was meant to be.

The apple hangs upon the tree,

And you can wait for it to fall,

Or take a chance to taste it now

And savor it

All day.

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Strong Will… Desperate

No fault I find in enterprise.

It has its place

Thought fraught with lies,

And evil overlords abound

To hardly anyone’s surprise.

 

As old as ages

Stories told,

Hardly headlines anymore,

The strong-willed, desperate

Cattle Baron fighting to keep open range.

 

Dark knights hired as mercenaries

Keep the rabble in its place,

Humble and subservient,

Immune to any change.

 

But change does come

As time demands

And desperation rises up

With sword in hand to

Take its due,

To seize its rights,

To claim the land,

To show its will is

Just as strong,

And right shall triumph

Over wrong.

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Falcon Sweeping Down

Nestled in his lofty perch

Among such Spartan furnishings

He contemplates the oneness of

His single-minded quest.

 

To triumph every battle,

To conquer every prey,

To hover in the clouds and know

He is above the best

 

The swiftness of his crushing jaw,

His talons strong and sure,

The unrelenting tenure of

His vast tenacity,

The beauty of his flawless flight,

This fateful knight of doom

Bounding and rebounding

Between fear and anarchy.

 

Oh, shall I see or ever know

A knight of more renown

Who rides the air of chivalry,

This falcon sweeping down.

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Who’s Voice?

Silence in the midst of hubbub

Sweeps across a crowded room

To land on ever-anxious ears,

Wanting, waiting to be stilled.

 

Needing nurture,

Seeking solace,

Wishing wisdom come to call,

Wistful wanting

Fuels frustration

In this clustered free-for-all.

 

Blissful silence sweeps forever.

Listless souls may now rejoice.

Sweet surrender calls my name.

Fleeting question is…

Who’s voice?

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Sleeping In the Clouds

Cool up here…

Cool enough to ask for an extra blanket,

But I won’t ask.

Don’t want to bother those

Already settled,

Already sleeping.

 

Far too excited

Too restless to sleep up here in the clouds

Where angels tread.

Waiting, hoping that one will float by,

One… or a multitude

Heralding gospel,

Rescuing downtrodden,

Offering comfort in times of need,

 

Whispering softly into my ear

Until at last

Blissful sleep finds my pillow

And I am transported

To a throne on high.

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A Child Smiled

Hard day

         Endless drudgery

                 Capped by seething innuendo

Crashing, slashing ankle high,

Forehead bashing on the wall,

 

Teardrops just about to burst

Flooding cheek with heavy brine

From endless oceans dark and deep

Where evil is her queen.

 

Feeling firmly pistol-whipped by

Muggers unidentified,

Taken for a Jersey ride

Where victims often don’t survive.

 

Just when hope was all but lost at

The very edge of hell,

A miracle on lofty wings…

 

A child smiled…

         All is well.

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An Angel Cried

An angel cried this morning

As another soul was lost,

But not from lack of trying…

It just wasn’t meant to be.

 

The entire choir chimes with

Multitudinous dismay at

The prospect of her prospect

Drudged in mournful harmony.

 

Oh, if only she would listen,

If only she could heed,

If faith would yield perception

In her muddled little world.

 

In quiet desperation

As the angel band pleads softly

She stumbles to the precipice

And never hears a word.

 

A victim of indifference,

A case of stubborn pride,

Her fate an ageless story

As another angel cried.

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I Call Your Name

In troubled times when

Every bobble burst a bubble of despair

And crazed confusion drapes delusion

In a fractured fairy tale…

 

When all the hustle of the bustle

Havocs in a manic mind

And frantic frenzy fills a fortress,

Floods the forest and the plain…

 

If every moment turned an eon,

Every flash a memory,

Every picture came to life

And haunted all my waking hours…

 

If time should pass me to its bosom,

Suffer me to go insane…

I would not grieve.

I would not leave.

I would simply call your name.

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Beautiful

Where is beauty to be found?

Is it truly in the beholder’s eye?

Does it really only run skin deep?

Can it be rescued from yet another cliché

Or broadened still from horizon to horizon?

Is it merely a pregnant pause?

A moment of quiet reflection in

An otherwise horrid, insidious day?

 

Can it soothe the beast?

Calm the Storm?

Or is it the actual storm itself

Sequestered in a lace-trimmed veil,

Stalking tree-lined streets of gold

To rest beneath my windowsill?

 

Or is it you, my sweetest one?

Are you my beauty, draped with grace?

Would darkness fill me were your face

Not burned into my memory?

I could not,

Would not want to know.

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Please Sir, I Want Some More

Don’t cry or pout, Little Oliver.

There will be more,

There’s always more,

So don’t be afraid to step up and ask.

All he can say is no.

 

Oh yes, he can gasp and bark and snap

At your audacious question,

Shocked by your nerve,

But it could be worth it if,

In the end,

Some kind-hearted soul takes

You under his wing.

 

Though you may be orphaned,

No family in sight,

You need not be lonely

Or even alone.

Your future is now

If only you want it.

Ask if you dare.

It will come to you.

 

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A Day Off

A day away

From hash and hassle…

         Nothing to do.

         Nothing to do.

Sleep in late?

Meditate?

         Not a chance

         Not a clue.

Eyes pop open.

Mind seeks hope for

         Something new

         Something new.

 

Outside scoping

Interloping,

         Throwing schedules askew.

Breaking cycle

Not a trifle,

         Causing minor men to scoff.

Settle in

Relax and win

         Just enjoying

         A day off.

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Smooth and Soothing

That voice, so melodic,

So soothing, so smooth as

It touches the ear and

Goes straight to the heart.

Calm reassurance that all is right

In a world at times so horribly cruel.

 

And they named her Grace.

 

Different from most, but

Always a constant,

Forever in concert with

Sweet harmony.

Grounded by faith, but

Rising above every conflict

With reason a constant companion  

 

And her heart filled with grace.

 

Childless in essence, but

Mother to all who

Seek motherly content,

A need to abide.

Every effort

Totally effortless,

Every adventure a carnival ride.

 

And she is with grace.

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The Eagle Rises

Mostly a vision,

A speck in the heavens,

Near imperceptible swirling about

In an ocean of blue and white,

Riding the currents,

Filling its sails with billowy wisps

Of nothing and everything

In perfect repose.

 

Gliding in circles,

All seeing,

All seeking,

All waiting to dive

With the swiftness of lightning

To capture

To crush

To devour with delight,

 

Then once sated,

Wants abated,

To rise again,

To soar.

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Bruised Ego

You hurt my feelings.

Boo hoo to me.

I snap like a turtle.

Boo hoo to you, too.

The names we assign to

Each other cut deep

Until egos are battered and

Totally bruised.

 

All this snipping and biting

Does no good for anyone,

Doesn’t resolve an iota of truth.

It’s just a hold-over,

A constant reminder of

Stubborn resistance

Born out of youth.

 

Grownups know better

And reason should tell me

That inflated ego

Is my enemy.

Truth is much stronger, and

Right is the better half

Of the equation…

Better than me.

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Afraid of Nothing / Everything

The Nothing comes knocking on

My bedroom door,

Leads me to worry, to wonder and fret.

Will there be anything,

Anyone standing behind that portal

Of sad regret?

 

It swings open

And light filters in and the Nothing is

Suddenly opened to everything.

My mind filters out what my

Eyes would allow until

There is no song left to sing.

 

Lord, give me strength, give me

Wisdom to cope when

The Nothing looms over my tortured soul.

Teach me to look over

Everything’s shoulder

Where hope is the prize,

The ultimate goal.

 

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Rest Your Weary Bones

It’s a long day

         In a short life.

Time to rest these weary bones.

Stop this raucous, ranting, running

Gerbil ride I’m on.

 

Let the wheel turn by itself

Or slow to its cessation.

Even God took Sunday off, so

Who am I to question?

 

To rest is not to quit, and

A pause is not the end, but

A moment of reflection

Just before we start again is

A necessary interlude,

A quiet, soothing friend

Who will walk with me and

Talk with me and

Lead me round the bend.

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Taming the Beast

Deep inside his cavernous labyrinth

The beast lies sleeping

Dreaming his dreams,

His dastardly, bastardly beastie dreams of

Mauling, marauding and masticating

His helpless victims

Down to the bone.

 

Those victims, all zombie toads,

So unaware of the fate that awaits

In his bone crushing jaws.

The unfathomed likelihood he will awake

With fire in his belly and

Blood on his tongue.

 

What can we do?

 

Call for Sir Lancelot across the deep channel?

Cry for Quixote to ride on his quest?

The beast must be tamed

Else he be vanquished.

The village demands

Someone rise to the test.

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A Subtle Awakening

There was no epiphany,

No sparks, no flash,

No rockets red glare

When first our eyes became intertwined.

It was simply a knowing

As if the ages had once again

Caused our paths to cross

And something inside had

Awakened once more as it had

A hundred times before.

 

We were no strangers,

No earth-bound souls

Searching, struggling into the light.

Just kindred spirits

Strolling the cycle

Finding each other again and again,

Knowing that even the

Reaper who parts us

Will see us united

As eons progress.

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