Saturday, July 15, 2017

To the Morning




My eyes drift towards our spacious window in the front room. It is wonderfully balmy summer morning. The windsock appropriately shaped like a fish responds to a gentle yet persistent Southeasterly. It is a Saturday morning before the neighbors have awakened from their week of labor and responsibility; it is, therefore, amazingly peaceful for a street on this relatively quiet neighborhood. The breeze stirs the many dazzling blossoms as they grasp and hold the mysteries of the solar magician rising in the Eastern sky. These blossoms, however, did not appear by magic; their presence is a product of Julia’s persistent skill and wondrous imagination.

The birds are stirring as they queue up for their turn at the feeder. A squirrel is darting among the aged branches of an elderly plum tree whose productivity of Italian prunes has diminished over the years much like my own. Our neighbor has reported the sighting of a mischievous rabbit investigating our meager offerings.

The day ahead looms with its promise, surprises, elation and potential disappointments. I will attempt to greet it head-on; I am more than a little thankful of the manner in which my lungs masterfully grasp the air and extract from it the oxygen that all my cells cry out for and that my heart still manages to faithfully pump throughout my body so that my eyes may partake of the majesty of this earth as my brain shapes these few words to express my boundless appreciation.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

To the Now


It is this moment,
this fleeting.
this ephemeral
bit of rushing time.

That is it,
clear,
immediate,
particular
now.

On its way
among the relics and
graveyard of the past
to be contemplated in some
future nowness or
simply forgotten.

I live in the moment,
by the second,
not subject to conjecture,
immune to elaborate planning or
introspection.

Future time
may not be mine,
these molecular bits
could be finally heading
to the realm
where Chaos abides,
my ultimate destiny.

It is this moment,
this glancing tribute
to existence,
to certainty,
the rest is speculation.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Tempestuous Afternoon


Clouds are draped over on another
like lovers,
fluids ooze out of them
cling to the trees in
opulent clusters of steamy mist,
earth immersed in a wondrous
sea of sperm,
supple tireless eggs awaiting
the life they uncover,
again and again
the planet cleaves itself.

Inauguration 2017


Yet another cold, lonely and
exceedingly frightened man
will assume leadership in a divided land,
tormented by the realization that
in his quest for power and prestige
he sacrificed the capacity to love,
frightened that
for a bit of gold dust and
possession,
too much was lost,
plagued by the dreams
that haunt him, and
the power he must assume
but cannot command,
beneath all the bluster
all the witless vehemence
lies a small and inadequate
human being
hollowed out by his own hatred.

He is not alone for
the world is filled with such men
deadened to the reality that surrounds them,
deadened to themselves,
digested alive from the inside
by the venom they produce
and the bitterness they entomb
within their withered spirits.

We should mourn for them,
sympathy is not made easy by
the unnecessary suffering, they engender.

Monday, May 15, 2017

In Search of True Conviction


I have tried repeatedly,
looking down the long and convoluted
barrel of politics
riding upon torrential tides of
indignation
straining for hope within
shadows of dark and ominous speculation.

Since I first discerned the difference
between
pain of injury and
mother’s haunting and delicious embrace
between
rapturous melodies of a songbird
outside my window and
hurtful disappointment
between
stern admonitions of father and
the unrestrained joy of holding
ephemeral beauty within my feeble grasp
between
the morbid anticipation of darkest night
and the fiery enchantment of emerging dawn,
I yearned for the discovery of explanation
within the crucible of doubt.

For me,
there is no escape from
questions that hold
no simple answers
from
an endless discourse
with sweeping time.

I have savored
love with delicacy and
crazed abandon,
I have enfolded friendship
yearning for connection,
I am no stranger to
mishap and disaster.

I am the child of my generation
yet
inevitably fall back
upon my inimitable self.

I am forever puzzled by
this muddled world
where humanity unfolds its destiny
a strange and enticing enigma that
holds no resolution to the
ceaseless quest for understanding.

This life has spanned
over seven decades
enfolded a caravan of dreams,
vivid panorama of exploration and
abiding disbelief,
stories of many textures,
expansive landscapes and
hapless desire,
its inevitable catalog of pain
and memories sweetened by the
fortuitous breath of love.

I have tried repeatedly
to understand,
to encompass truth
as if it had a palpable presence,
to leave a trail of remarkable inspiration,
to be remembered.

What I have discovered instead,
to my awakened and awkward surprise –
true peace of mind lies within the arms
of continual acts of

delicate and determined surrender.

An Incomplete Creation


Thousands of years of civilization
yet still mired in stupidity.

Lofty conceptions
taken to such philosophical heights,
yet we consort like crazed hyenas
over the corpse of our collective indifference.

Remarkable discoveries inspired by the
insatiable curiosity and heightened intellect of
our higher brain,
yet we gleefully slaughter each other over the
most inane differences.

Enviable desire for spiritual development,
yet so much unnecessary suffering
wrought from religious belief and
inflicted upon those deemed unworthy.

Thousands of years of civilization
yet still confounded by our own ignorance.

Responsible for expanding our collective understanding
of this remarkable universe and the
fantastic planet on which we reside,
yet we plunder the very resources
that grant us life and behave as if
we are unconscionable idiots.

Science and technology its primary offspring have
taken wondrous strides over the millennia
yet the practitioners of these arts imbedded in reality
are dutifully ignored and even discarded
when their conclusions are not what we choose to hear.

Capable of such nobility of spirit
selfishness of purpose
and infinite generosity,
yet we pay homage to
thoughts and ideas of little substance
demeaning to real possibilities
enabling unimaginable grief and despair.

Thousands of years of civilization,
yet still behaving as if we have learned

almost nothing.

Friday, January 20, 2017

A Wistful Song

















Will humans ever discard
incessant and ancient calls to hatred
subdue the chaotic winds of war
relentless stupidity of the lower brain.

Will humans ever awaken
to the essential joy of living
fall into the blissful and awaiting
embrace of love.

Will humans ever find release
within the fiery storm of consciousness
surrender at last to the reality of
death’s encompassing presence.

Will humans ever bury
the blighted harvest that only
greed can promise.

Will humans ever embrace
everyone as family
put an end
to all the needless suffering.

Will humans ever ascend
the golden staircase
into that terrain
enfolded by the sweet enveloping breath
of boundless peace.


Saturday, January 7, 2017

Men of Power

Yet another cold, lonely and exceedingly frightened man
will assume leadership in a divided land,
frightened by the realization that
in his quest for power and prestige
he sacrificed the capacity to love,
frightened that
for a bit of gold dust and
possession,
too much was lost,
frightened by the dreams
that haunt him, and
the power he must assume
but cannot command,
beneath all the bluster
all the witless vehemence
lies a small and inadequate
human being
hollowed out by his own hatred.

He is not alone for
the world is filled with such men
deadened to the reality that surrounds them,
deadened to themselves,
digested alive from the inside
by the venom they produce
and the bitterness they entomb
within their withered spirits.

We should mourn for them,
sympathy is not made easy by
the unnecessary suffering, they engender.