Wearing weariness, again

I wore myself out wearing out my welcome without the sharp awareness of the fact that ought to have alerted me, only a vague shadow that I could dimly see but chose not to really, misplaced optimism made me feel free to act without exact knowledge - only the memory of something I once felt that beckoned to me like a mirage, but when I looked carefully - it wasn't there at all. Had it ever been? Was it ever only an illusion? Perhaps, but it inspired me. Can I be inspired by mere reality, which, once broken down, seems more unreal than a dream?

I'm so tired now, let me sleep, perhaps I'll find a dream somehow that can let me feel awake again, and then - it might be the same thing all over again. Grumble grumble.


Index

A Bad Reaction

You may say that I've grown bitter
It could even be true
If only from time to time:
times of words adding insult to injury;
occasions that turn out to be special
in all the wrong ways

Sometimes, I think,
I can only take so much sweetness
before I respond with anger
Beauty gives way to ugliness,
and the war inside frightens me,
my peaceful intentions falling away

But even that must end
and then,
my friend,
I simply have nothing more to say


Index

Well, I Just Don't Know

It`s…well, it`s kind of hard to put it into words,
since I don`t really know what it is,
or should I say, what it was,
as it is no more

-I think- therefore I don`t know
any more than you do anymore,
if indeed I ever did,
if the deeds that I did

were somehow to be explained,
I could explain away, and did
but whatever I hid away,
it was not the truth of the matter.

The truth- as I saw it- is what I told

If all the telling didn`t add up,
well, neither did the seeing of it

Tell me what you thought of it
if you feel so inclined, for I`ve a mind
to hear some truth in another`s voice,
however impure,
when I can`t be sure
of hearing truth in mine


Index

Patience

written November 6 & 8, 2006

a) Time to be patient,
to remain calm,
laying the groundwork
for better times to come

b) New possibilities arise,
shooting sparks,
lighting up the darkness of the night,
causing much exitement,
but followed by disappointment
when they fizzle out

They did show,
briefly but brightly,
that other things are possible,
and really,
that is enough

Index

'Tis the Season

As the day declines, I reach for the light switch
The lamp flickers, sputters, then goes into reverse-
a dark sponge sucking up what light remains,
and the shadow that crept over me is my own,
coming out from within, from behind my dark eyes
to darken my vision of the world outside

Index

What I've Been Up To

What have I been doing?
Good question

Is there a good answer?
Well, let’s see….
today I woke up late

Although...
I'm still not totally awake....
but I’m taking it in stride,
the day going by

Actually…..
when I woke up
it was not so late,
not really

I woke up
under warm covers,
still tired and groggy
feeling rather lazy

Did I have to get up?
I’d nowhere
in particular to go,
so the answer was no

So, problem solved,
the scene dissolved
into more sleep,
leaving me scattered
as well as rested
when I next awoke

Oh well
I’ll just take it in stride,
the day flowing by....

Time is just flowing
No need to row
against the current

What have I been doing?
That’s a good question
Do I have a good answer?

I’ve been moving slowly,
moving through the flow
of hurried, worried people

I’ve been among them,
and I know
that I will be again

What have I been doing?
Well, I love to meander,
just wandering aimlessly
along avenues,
down side streets,
down alleyways,
through parks

I love to stop
to write
odds and ends
that could lead
to beginnings,
or to pursue
an elusive idea,
or to picture
a fleeting feeling,
and this can even break
the haze of laziness
where I’ve been content to dwell
if only for a time

What have I been doing?
Not much of anything in particular


Index

Celebrating the Inevitable

The fading sunlight
streams in wanly
one December afternoon,
and soon
the downward pull
is irresistible.

The snow is still new,
the white replaced the grey
last Sunday
and I could celebrate
the onset of winter
on a magical street
festooned with coloured lights,
even the shops
and the shopping
seemed graceful,
not hives of frenzied action
multiplying transactions
in search of
some kind of
satisfaction

and getting to clinging
to just about everything
the smell of wood smoke
was wafting through the air

before settling
upon clothing,
upon hair
and faces

I could celebrate
the onset of winter
with boyish wonder

Funny how young
I can feel,
and how old

Index

That Four Letter Word

Love- oh yes, that:
so often sung of,
so little understood.

I am speaking for myself only, you understand.
The sweet burning seemed to take over- the rest of me tried to take cover.
What kind of lover is this?
The kind who can only be who he is, and make it work somehow, or at least try to.
What else do I have to offer now? Well, many things, which don’t seem to add up.
Many interesting pieces that never will quite fit together- the pieces remain apart.
The sweet burning to the burnt out yearning of the heart- is this what love has become?

Well, there are other kinds
flowing in and out of minds
and hearts, crossing
the spaces between friends
maybe with hugs
or just smiles
between friends
spending time
enjoying time together,

maybe even somehow seeing
the friend in everyone,
not so easily done
with any kind of persistence
In fact, in some people
it is best seen from a distance

There can be love
in living and letting live
For some, it’s the best love I can give
And I found myself
a better place to live,
a gift to myself,
to finally lift
my spirits

For I've lately learned some things from death:
life is short,
life is fragile,
and life is beautiful

And when hatred tears through flesh and bone
to assert its law over life,
when greed consumes life in search of more life,
producing death,
when indifferance looks on
then turns away,

love tends to the wounded,
soothes the sick,
consoles the grieving,
even gets me to believing

that we've a fighting chance
in troubled times
Aren't they all
in their own way,
but it can seem
quite grim today

So many hellos and goodbyes
As my fortunes fall and rise
Love is guiding me somewhere
Crying “follow if you dare!”

Well, what else can I do?
so I guess that means I’ve got to

Index

Waterflow

I am the water
trickling from ice,
running into streams,
into lakes,
flowing into and down rivers,
into seas,
in currents across oceans,
running through pipes
and out of taps
into sinks
and down drains,
sprayed through showers,
flushed into
and down
toilets,

flowing in your blood,
running into and out of
every cell in every body
of every living being.

I get around
and I've been around
and I can tell you
that nothing is pure.
I get into things and things get into me.

I am the flow that brings life.
But some of the things that have been getting into me have made me the flow
that brings death along with life.

I get into things and things get into me,
but fewer living beings live in my flow these days.

I flow through oceans that humans have cleaned out with nets.
They "cleanse" with poisons and pollute me with poisons,
forgetting that what they put into me so that it may flow away from them returns unto them:
for I get around,and it comes around

I flow by and flow through the places you have built to insulate yourselves from reality.
We cannot insulate ourselves from the reality you are creating.
You yourselves will find that your insulation is an illusion,
for what is done to us is done to you.

I am the flow and we are all in that flow. Feel it flowing over you and through you and feel what you are losing.

Index

It’s All Good, I Guess

Somewhere there I made a mistake,
for the roots never did take
and the wind blew me away,
to land somewhere some other day

Days of confused circumstances
of darting glances that seek
to see without connecting, for they
seek some way of protecting
the self from harm
Wariness verges on alarm

And it becomes a burden
to be aware
enough to even care
Where’s my next
shot of oblivion
going to be coming from?

Who cares?
It’s musical chairs
The music stops,
I’m the odd one out
The penny drops,
and I see:
There’s no one there for me

Somewhere there I made a mistake
My dreams are so brittle
that they break
as soon as I awake

Index

to end to begin again

when i stopped fighting it
i stopped giving
my energy to it

i think i did what i had to do
and wind came, bracing cold
to blow the haze away
forcing me to find my way
elsewhere for some warmth

but when it came
the cold was refreshing
piercing through
the dreamy delirium
that had been my refuge
and my jail

so this is how it feels
to fail
and yet win
in the end

Index