Poem- 4/10/12

My fears are a well-tended garden,
flowerful, redolent, manicured…
Indeed, completely at home,
I know these paths well,
worn and treaded steadily in bare feet
among rows of shocks of violent hues
and delicate memory.
You don’t believe me?
I’ve invested a whole life here.
Ask and I can furnish you
any bouquet imaginable,
presented season-perfect and timely.
Would you think to save me
from these confines? To spare me
the burdens of this enclosure?
Your efforts would fall short,
like song lost to wind.
But not to worry, now or evermore…
There is a secret to share—
It is not I that is enclosed, but the fears
that are enclosed within me.
The burden that I myself lifted has been set down,
and now the garden is just that—
a trove of memory and life brought forth,
a place that I can safely take you,
a solitude that is mine to share,
such care have I put in.
But better yet, invite me to your garden…
I’m sure the views are as resplendent.
All you need do is ask
and we’ll share the last rays of daylight
when the flames of a setting sun
slowly fade behind cloud and waterline.
And when sleep comes later
we may dream our lives anew,
no longer strangers to the places within us.

Poem- 3/1/12

Sitting here, still among movement,
My mind leaps along, unbounded,
And recedes with the night's silence.

Fleeting images linger under my eyelids,
Insubstantial as voice lost to wind,
Or the wave forgotten by the ocean.

A simple reflection off light
Elsewhere placed and formed...
How can the moon go so gentle along?

I am leaden and heavy,
Where you are color and life;
Possibilities unspent, a brilliant spark.

Surely, there will be a place, a bridge,
Faithful, fortunate, forgiving...
Where this wing can rest and rejoice.

Painting and Poetry tonight...

I would do honor
To all that I see within you
A hundred times over
And not once ask of anything.
Let my eyes wear thin
No longer to find the pleasure
Of just one smile;
Or my hands to crumble
Under the weight of a rose
Never once given...
Yet may that space be saved,
Remain protected, forever in heart,
Where last I knew you.

2/19/12

Taking a chance on ourselves

So, needless to say, I haven't written in a while. In truth I've been finding myself kind of resistant to it lately. It's a combination of things like spending more and more free time painting (such as the piece here)

But it's also been a time of more reflection after all that has gone on the last few years. I focused so much on writing about what was happening that now it's been nice to just gestate a while.

Of course there are still plenty of things to talk about or that flit through my mind on a regular basis, so hopefully the writing bug has bitten me again; even if just a little.

One thing that I'm always pondering is the perception people have of me going through the various disasters of my life: financial collapse, relationship challenges, being un-homed for a year, and so on. It happens regularly that people think that I weathered it without scars or plenty of moments when hope seemed dismally low. The only thing that I can claim with some reasonable sense is that I tried to keep the difference clear between how I felt and how I treated people around me.

And it's always interesting to me how different people fill in the gaps of my story to fit their inspirational needs. For some it seems that I must be calm because I must meditate several hours a day. For others I must do Tai Chi all the time, or never eat pizza, or drink a beer. One thing is for sure, I could never live up to those standards. I'm much to flakey to remember to do everything I should be doing, and I'm much more easily distracted than people would give credit for.

It makes me smile to think of the super human abilities that people ascribe to me, but if given a chance, I will generally encourage people to do what I work on doing: embrace their own quirks and idiosyncrasies before trying to live up to any other standards that don't ring true to their hearts.

I have firm belief that we spend so much time and effort living by someone else's standards, or what we imagine should be our standards, that often we forget to ask ourselves the simple questions that really matter to us as individuals. Such as: What do I really like? Who do I really want to be? They're simple questions but so easily overlooked. And too often I see people feel like it's too late once they do ask those questions of themselves. But I don't think so.

I am a strong supporter of doing whatever is necessary in order to get through life's ups and downs. And we should give ourselves a break when our capacities aren't quite up to the level we'd like. But sooner or later I hope that anyone asking those questions of themselves does one simple yet fairly frightening thing: Take a chance on yourself! Whether it's job related, hobbies of one sort or another, or especially the relationships we want, it's gotta be you that steps up.

I know some have said to me that they are afraid that what they find on the other side of those questions might be something they don't like. But in my opinion, and experience to date, you always find yourself on the other side. And if that is going to be true then ask one other simple question: What is wrong with you that you'd be afraid to be you?

So lets hope the writing bug is back. And in the meantime, back to some painting...

Been enjoying some Walt Whitman...

To A STRANGER

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,
All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,
You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,
You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,
I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,
I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

Evening shots

Last CB post

Here is my last post on the Civil Beat blog...

Poem 12/11/11

The ageless before me
continue to weep,
the wounds of the world
still fresh on their minds.

But these hurts pour forth--
lines, notes, words...
You call them "music, art"...
We call them our lives.

Of the colors that
bleed through my veins,
none become visible without
one simple heart stroke.

I could not be cut off,
removed from myself,
any more than I
could not write you.

Poem- 11/27/11

Silence is the mantra
bearing me along what seems
an endless, pause-filled night.

Each breath a mark in time
to the sky's movement towards dawn,
ticking towards my next hope.

And like the unopened bloom
hidden in still morning's shadow,
I await the embrace of return,
When I see the sun once more.

Serenity