Sometimes the happiest people
also suffer the greatest depression.
It is through the agonizing pain
that they appreciate the blissful good.
It is from this that appreciation is gained
and lifts them higher when
breaking out of the darkness within.
Peace can seem like boredom
to these people. It's only after a couple of
decades of this
revolving see-saw ride
that balance
and peace sound more thrilling.
But what about those
who always experience peace
and never exuberant joy
or devastating despondency?
Do they really live?
Who breathes in more life?
the bungee jumper
or the couch potato?
Who understand the human core better:
the preacher or the sinner?
Is success measured by numbers
in the bank or the number
of children one bears?
"It's all sixes," he would say.
"Life hands you the dice
and you roll 'em, baby!"
But what if some let others
roll their dice for them?
"And some also steal others' dice
and roll without permission," I say.
He says, "I guess it's the "why" we roll
or don't roll that defines us."
Monday, May 17, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Twisted Sonnet
I run down an abandoned city street.
Nothing seems to be living. All is dead.
I see someone standing behind a fleet
of blue trucks parked among those who have fled.
My mind becomes dizzy as I twist, turn.
The empty hole within my chest explodes.
Confusion overwhelms, my insides burn,
I vomit! Hyper-ventilation slows.
Recovering, I see the tall man run.
He ducks into an alley, disappears,
escaping pursuit, our song still unsung.
The streets turn from concrete to dull mirrors
And all the while I walk alone to chase
him into the darkness that hides his face.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The Destroyer
Oh, Pride!
What deceitfulness will I yield to today?
You are pleasantly satisfying when no compliments reign near,
But catastrophic in mood and deed!
You play on our fancies and
intoxicate our minds with visions of glory
False visions, fake understandings,
wasteful thoughts of phantom success.
The only thing left behind you is lonely nothingness.
What deceitfulness will I yield to today?
You are pleasantly satisfying when no compliments reign near,
But catastrophic in mood and deed!
You play on our fancies and
intoxicate our minds with visions of glory
False visions, fake understandings,
wasteful thoughts of phantom success.
The only thing left behind you is lonely nothingness.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The Mint-Lady
The Mint-Lady
The fast food restaurant stands on the corner
Just off to the right from the lonely exit.
The old lady who works there has white hair.
She tucks those long, curly, fly-away strings
Under her black baseball cap as
She cleans the untouched, unused, and unvisited
Surfaces of tables and chairs.
Excitement rises in her heart when
A young family enters
Happily and hungry,
To stay awhile.
Waiting by the trash bin,
She picks up her brown
Wicker basket that she brings from
Home each day.
Wrapped mints lie in anticipation to be
Accepted and enjoyed after meals.
Her glasses reflect each
Hungry traveler’s face
As she happily approaches.
She smiles and a sweet voice reaches out
From among the Solitude,
“Take a mint for the road?”
The fast food restaurant stands on the corner
Just off to the right from the lonely exit.
The old lady who works there has white hair.
She tucks those long, curly, fly-away strings
Under her black baseball cap as
She cleans the untouched, unused, and unvisited
Surfaces of tables and chairs.
Excitement rises in her heart when
A young family enters
Happily and hungry,
To stay awhile.
Waiting by the trash bin,
She picks up her brown
Wicker basket that she brings from
Home each day.
Wrapped mints lie in anticipation to be
Accepted and enjoyed after meals.
Her glasses reflect each
Hungry traveler’s face
As she happily approaches.
She smiles and a sweet voice reaches out
From among the Solitude,
“Take a mint for the road?”
Piggy-back
Piggy-Back
My toddler’s feet are size seven.
So tiny, plump, smooth.
When I lift him up
From the wet sandbox,
Muddy wood chips
Sprinkle the grass
As I swing him on my back.
Small fingers sift my hair
Rather than hold onto
My shoulders for
Balance.
He slips and
Starts to fall.
But I always catch him.
Back on top and
Balance
Made much stronger,
The green-vined exit,
Doesn’t seem much
Farther.
My toddler’s feet are size seven.
So tiny, plump, smooth.
When I lift him up
From the wet sandbox,
Muddy wood chips
Sprinkle the grass
As I swing him on my back.
Small fingers sift my hair
Rather than hold onto
My shoulders for
Balance.
He slips and
Starts to fall.
But I always catch him.
Back on top and
Balance
Made much stronger,
The green-vined exit,
Doesn’t seem much
Farther.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
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