It was there on his chest
"Fag"
Was it on mine?
I never wanted to be
the cattle of a movement.
Charm.
I wanted flattery.
I needed the validating force,
the historic power of a "you and I".
Let someone,
anyone,
give to me
identity,
mission,
tomorrow.
Grandma never had to scream,
march for it.
What a painfully easy,
flaw of a promise
she willed to me.
Pulling up her onions,
cultivating all she deserved
from the world,
from her master.
Why was it not mine?
I assumed as much.
As a child I did
learn,
pray,
behave.
Where, oh where, is the faithful
idea of deserving?
I have sowed a life,
but they took the reaping.
Now, here I stand in the middle
thoughtfully branded with it.
"Love"
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Right Here
We know where we are
No clue to where we goin
It's our right to be afraid
But we busy with our lovin
I see just in front of me
But the clock, I hear it tickin
When will we close our eyes
And realize that we dreamin
No clue to where we goin
It's our right to be afraid
But we busy with our lovin
I see just in front of me
But the clock, I hear it tickin
When will we close our eyes
And realize that we dreamin
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
It's Brewing.
A warm wind is brewing.
The traveling force
of green pastures, flowers,
and the sweet, over-powering
smell of honeysuckle is
rushing
to meet us. A brighter sun
travels faster than a mother
to greet her wandering child.
A cooler, refreshing rain
will cover us, blanket the
ground,
drowning us in the bloom,
the rebirth. Windows will
open,
and we will all expose
ourselves
to the tantalizing danger of
the sun.
The Earth will start to heal,
to repair the anguish of a
raging Winter,
inspiring us all
to forgive,
to see each other plainly.
And, in turn, our hearts
will heal.
Our souls will start an
eruption
of creativity,
the type of thinking and loving only done
when Spring comes. It will sweep us away,
It will clean us. We will
learn living
through it. Glimpses of
hummingbirds,
will teach us the meaning of
a companion.
The resurgence of a lost vibrant color
will teach us restoration.
Renewal.
Spring will give us
no option.
Bliss.
It's brewing.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Love Music
What is the sound of love?
The floor creeks and I hear it
I feel it's vibration underfoot
My heart aligns with its rhythm
Feverishly beating
What is the sound of love?
The sufferable silence made
Crisp and clear nothingness
Created with patience and care
Stale air loudly advertising
The absence of
What is the sound of love?
The delicate turn of the hinges
The careful tiptoe forward
And the volume's on full blast
What is the sound of love?
Inhale
Exhale
The floor creeks and I hear it
I feel it's vibration underfoot
My heart aligns with its rhythm
Feverishly beating
What is the sound of love?
The sufferable silence made
Crisp and clear nothingness
Created with patience and care
Stale air loudly advertising
The absence of
What is the sound of love?
The delicate turn of the hinges
The careful tiptoe forward
And the volume's on full blast
What is the sound of love?
Inhale
Exhale
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