Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

ER

child
why do
you continue
to choose
to be
confined
by these
white
cold
walls?
don’t
you
know
that
the
real
prison
is in
your
mind?
and
that
your
healing
lies
through
the
narrow
scraping
door
of the
painful
past?
yet
you
must
choose
to take
the offered
hand
rise
from your
sterile
bed
and
step out
into
the
light
of a
different
day

Posted in Songs

Monday Monday (On Saturday) Song 69 – NumbSkull

I spend so much time in my head.
Some of my thoughts would be better off dead.
I need to concentrate on love instead.
I think I saw that somewhere in a book I read.

Numbskull,
Numbskull,
Deaf, blind, and dumb skull.
I have had an ether full, Numbskull.

Captured by my frozen brain,
I can no longer feel the pain
of a world that has gone insane,
washed away by a winter rain.

Numbskull,
Numbskull,
Deaf, blind, and dumb skull.
I have had an ether full, Numbskull.

The sun came out in my head today.
It chased the hate and fear away.
I saw you hurting, I began to pray
and love came out to play.

Love came out of my heart to play…. The sun melted the hate and fear away…. My numbskull went away…. I can feel, I can feel again, I can feel you again today….

Posted in Musings

ER

there is beauty here too
in this place of the sick
where a child screams in pain in triage
kindness laughter compassion
broken humanity rubbing shoulders

perhaps such interactions are what we need to smooth out our rough edges

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Another Scan

in this cubicle again
waiting for the machine
to discover nothing
so tired of the tests
aches and pains
sleepless nights
seems like a crapshoot
trying to find the answer
even with all of this technology
we are still blind leading the blind
waiting
that has been my life
for the dark glass to grow clear
when all i ever see
is a blur
and i am one of the stumbling

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Resilience

insomnia wakes me
barbed words
prick my mind
even here
as if out of the wind
they come from nowhere

i cannot seem to find
the means to deflect them
only to endure

yet there is a shield
that quenches the fiery darts

though i do not
understand
am hurt
and sometimes
wonder why i am attacked
i am not the first
nor am i alone
and this really isn’t
about me

the hurting one hurts
wishing for me
to respond in kind
to validate the misery

here on the veranda
listening to the waves
on a sleepless night
i realize that
the strikes don’t
need to change me

they just mean
i must be doing
something right

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Whether the Weather

whether the weather
i shall not complain
such idle blether
won’t stop the rain
yet i long for the morrow
and less stormy skies
from my bed of sorrow
i shall arise
for the clouds full of tears
have all run dry
now i can gather my fears and we will
go play outside

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

A Ticket To Rise

The smell hit me soon after I got off the Metro.

On the sidewalk in the throng of milling red
I look over to see the dark mass of bags and clothes
curled up against the outer wall of the Verizon Center.

I am here because of a player’s generosity through
connections I was not aware I had.
I wait nervously at Will Call for a half an hour
before my patron finds me and suddenly
I am no longer on the outside.

In the afterglow of victory,
on my blurring return back to my warm home,
my ears stopped with earbud fiction,
I realize that I have forgotten the discarded one
whose life might have been changed
for the price I should have paid
for my free ticket.

November 7, 2011

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Returned Triumphant Dreamer

I remember the beginning
those suicidal thoughts
when my dreams were nothing and
I was cowed
driven like stupid
cattle
into this mindless chase
where we stumble
in our own shit.

I will arise and I will stand.
The rebellion is late
but it is
here and now.
I will pick up my pen and
I will gouge the page
until it bleeds
my heart
your eyes and
the earth melts
into that nasty sea called
reality
which I swam in
returned
triumphant
dreamer.

Without dreams there is no reality.

I am afraid of their whispering
what is this dark path?
but we will walk it
my God
you and I
as we have
always together.

He was a dreamer
and he dreamed the
impossible
dream
of a new world
of dying to bring life
of bleeding to heal every wound and
when they nailed that poem above his head
that dream became
reality.

Upon this road I stumbled
I know not how or why
perhaps led by some strange
spirit
blind and groping
I have walked and
suddenly
now
I am here.

I must speak
whispers to rooftop
shouts
perched on the pinnacle
and if I fall
burst on the ground
then at least I can say
that the scarlet stain
though washed away
was at least
glaringly there
real
for a moment.

9/1/89
Reposted from Sept. 2011

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Smith’s “Pray for Me”

it is gray and rainy today
i can see it in your eyes,
hear it running down the glass
pain
think of the times we shared before
the tears
days like today
together
and less murky days
i want to hold you
to cross this frustrating
distance
bridge the silence
silence not from lack of words
speaking
never saying
what we really feel
silence
i step through the door
into the gray world again
song playing softly in my mind

April 5, 1989