DREAM ON

DREAM ON

You awaken one morning

and every important thing you didn’t do in your life,

every broken promise to yourself and to others

stands before you, a neglected “to do” list

regret has been writing for years now.

suddenly

the bell has rung

and all those things undone

are due today

at noon.

the unfinished painting,

the “someday” novel,

the adventures to foreign lands,

the song you wrote

and never played

for the woman you chose not to love,

so many dreams un-seized

arise now like ghosts,

and rocking back and forth

in a dreamlike stupor

you ponder the details

of the life you didn’t lead

and  wonder: 

“who made the very first rocking chair?”  and when, and where?

and you're still rocking back and forth

inside yourself,

haunted by the ghosts

of deeds undone,

hoping that this morning's rising sun

will lift you up and carry you high

into the blue sky of your desires,

without you having to lift a finger.

dream on…

2016

DOIN THE BEST WE CAN

DOIN THE BEST WE CAN..

Oh my,

the breeze this day feels like

forgiveness.

This muted, overcast blanket 

of comforting grayness 

carries me 

to a softer perception of life and of myself. 

No black or white,

No wrong or bad,

no good and right.

I wrap myself with this blanket of acceptance

far from the harshness of

 self-rejection.

Everyone is doing the best they can

at all times

No matter how bad it looks… 

DOES THIS POEM KNOW WHAT IT NEEDS?

Does this Poem Know What It Needs?

My spirit calls me home.

Am I listening.

Will I follow?

When my soul weeps, 

tears turn to laughter,

I hold hands with myself

and my soul takes my spirit to

the dance floor as I whirl 

into the wholeness of myself.

My shadows peek around corners

 stealing glimpses of light,

I reject, provoke, seduce, then invite them

to the Parts Apart Party,

where all exiled aspects of myself

are welcomed with delight.

God loves a trouble maker.

He made our bodies for mischief.

He likes to work with wood,

 and gave us hands.

Works of art,

Works of love, 

It is all the same thing.

Praising the Lord

Is no better

Or worse

then cursing him.

God could care less.

He would wish for you to nurture

your soul and it’s hungers. 

Does this poem know what it needs?

Maybe not…

But this soul knows it needs 

this poem.

2002

DEAR GOD

DEAR GOD

Forever and even annoyingly calling. 

He calls me to him at all times of the day and night.

He calls in the middle of meals while I’m eating too fast. 

He calls when I am being impatient 

with children, store clerks and my wife. 

He calls when I am impatient and cruel to myself. 

God has basically put me under house arrest,

There is no escape.

He is a cop in a very crisp clean uniform,

Who is in great shape;

He can outrun, outfight, outshoot me

Any day of the week,

Every day of the week. 

He says, “You can either come peacefully,

Or you can resist.

But you are coming with me,

One way or another.”

Yet I resist this spiritual arrest,

My ego still thinks it’s better off

Without God-

But sooner or later

either by accident, serendipity, 

Or when the pain drops me to my knees 

weeping.

God is calling me, 

Which is to say that

 Love is calling me, 

Beauty is calling me, 

Unity is calling me, 

Kindness is calling me,

And I am coming, 

Slower, than quicker, 

By hook and by crook, 

Willingly…reluctantly,

I am coming,

 Dear God,

Thanks for your persistent, 

Relentless call.

41402