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The man who knew it all woke up one day in a new world.
This world was nothing like the one he was born in: There were no boundaries in this world. No bad weather. No haters. No police officers to enforce rules. No rules! No money! No debt. No debt collectors. No bills to pay. No machines to break. No dreams to shatter. No nay sayers. No one to stop him from achieving his goals. No one to stop him. No one. In this heavenly new world, the man who knew it all could know it all fully, totally, freely. Utopia. Promised Land. Zion. But there was something missing in this world: LOVE. This world had no LOVE. The man who knew it all woke up one day in a new world: A world without love. And the man who knew it all, would now rather know nothing at all. Because without love - Heaven is a prison. The Promised land is barren. And Zion is buried down under. Love is the only thing a man oughta know.
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"Don't pick flowers"
My mother said. "Look right and left" My mother said. "Say please, and thank you" My mother said. "Wash your hands" My mother said. But when I asked Why do people die? And why do people live? How come we dream at night? And why do people fight? She only said: "Because." She said: "Because." And I'm still asking. ***
Show me a road And I'll lend you my feet Open your heart And I'll play on its beat Lay your body next to me And I'll purr in its heat Sing me a serenade One that's long and sweet So I can forever hear it And at last we'll be complete. *** I am a puzzle.
A three dimensional puzzle. A kind one puts together just so they can take it apart. Not the kind one frames and places on the wall for everyone to see. NO - I am a puzzle that is always broken, And gets built again, And again, And again. What good is a puzzle - if it's in pieces? What good is a puzzle - if it is whole? I am a puzzle. I live in between my two ends - The broken, and the complete. The empty, and the whole The Vague, and the clear. I am a puzzle. A three dimensional puzzle. A kind of puzzle with pieces like lonely, joy, anger. A puzzle of the human kind. The human tower of feelings, Of sorrow, of rage, Of laughter, of desire. Wanna know what I look like? When you build me - you undress me, Piece by piece. And when I am whole - you can see me, Whole in my nakedness. Until you take me apart And begin anew. I am a puzzle. I get built up - just so I can be taken apart. *** Once upon a time
There was a world On planet earth Its seas were full and lush Its greens were greener than the planet next door Its animals were wild and free Then the humans came And built their towers And divided the world into Titles, deeds, borders And the sea parted ways And the greens turned brown And the animals were hunted But the humans also Told stories Solved problems Made families Made history Made love Because nothing in this world is simple, you see Once upon a time, There was a world Of heartfelt hunters And angry poets Of sad clowns And joyful prison guards. And they lived happily ever after. (Or at least until climate change took over.) The woman in the mirror --
The one who does what I do? And wears her hair like me? And looks straight at me? That woman may look like me But she isn't me. She is my opposite, my opponent, my dual. She is my prison, my onlooker, my watch-dog. When I do my makeup, And brush my teeth, And pop a pimple. She is my judge, my executioner, my bullet. Or perhaps I got it all wrong, And SHE is the free one And meanwhile I am the one Locked in the mirror -- Staring at myself. It starts like a little itch,
A beginning of a wound, A seed sprouting, And like a volatile tornado -- It erupts, Without warning. It's messy, Clumsy, Senseless, It protects nothing in its course. It squashes, It hurts, It's deadly. Oh, this thing called RAGE. It's in the teeth, The throat, The gut. While the heart stays silent, watching it GO Go nowhere and everywhere. Uncontrollable, Unashamed, Uninvited. RAGE -- Lives outside the body. It lives outside the self. It's in the air. It IS air. The air of Rage -- I'll take none of it, If I can help it. I'll take none of it, If I may choose. I'll take none of it, If only I wasn't -- HUMAN. I once was yearning for connection.
The kind that offers pure protection. A bond, a merge, a link, A partnership, a group think. Community was what I tried to find I ran towards it eager, even blind. Blind enough to lose myself in the search To lastly find myself at a church. Sure, I found a home among the herd And was touched by a preacher's word But little by little the home became hot And with a flame I got tangled in a knot Before I knew it, I got caught in the burning fire Imagined an end so tragic - it was dire. But like the best survivors' tales, I made it out And graced myself with a prideful sense of doubt. And out is where I learned a single truth, A notion that is often wasted on the youth: 'One only yearns to connect when they are divided And even a follower of God can be misguided. So don't yearn to be one of many but rather be many of one.' And just like that my search to nothing at last was done. Hello my friend, Would you come swing with me? We'll watch the sun go down Behind a tree, We'll listen to woodpeckers knocking away at dawn And when we'd wake up They would be gone. We'll return to the city With fresh new eyes And like the sun We will rise Taking in nature's beat As we walk down our city street Welcoming the inevitable birth of spring It all can begin -- on a swing.  Let me tell you a poet's secret of the trade: When the hand gets tired -- the heart opens up. When the heart opens up -- the inner life speaks. And when the inner life speaks -- time stands still. That's when the poem 'writes itself'.  |