Claim the land in your name (3-27-2010)

Claim the land in your name,
do not let him have the road.
Occupy your town with your grace,
even if you never leave your room.

How can a man take care of property,
if he cannot take care of the misery
in his mind?

Allow everyone to laugh out loud as you
bump your heads together, thanking things
for being as they are.

Postcard to Walt Whitman (Summer 2009?)

Dear Walt Whitman,

If only you could see how great things have become. Thank you for your works, but we didn't need to know about all of that. You never seemed to mention where you'd expect to be after all your inspiration ended and then maybe you'd take up gardening?

I'm sure you'd remain happy no matter what the outcome. Could you share a little more the instructions for obtaining such peace? Please be sure to knock down that bridge that blocks us from achieving our dreams.

-M

Some Days it is so difficult. (11-29-09)

Some days it is so difficult to find the sun within me. Denial rejects ever knowing the name of fire, and the mind is easily tempted to gamble everything away.

It becomes so hard to find the strength to wrestle this beast to the ground, demanding and proclaiming the vow of poets that true love is the only tongue you speak.

Sometimes a forgetful mind will misplace the records of wisdom that give it the will to embrace the day. It must rely on blind faith found in companions' arms, praying through love till the night becomes day, and this dark moment can surface to light, finding its way home.

In fillers of newspaper ads, one can find the words of heroes and stars. In paper, we can find the tears of a beast and the jewel in its heart.

(1-24-2010)

Songbird, teach me the nature of freedom.
Teach me of the wild dance I never knew.
I ask you to deliver me lightly into the
peace of openness, and not through
a gateway of despair.
Deliver the innocent monk from the cage
of his abbey, and show the hermit
a glow greater than candlelight.
And in your journey through the
wild night, reaching the day through song,
bring the heart along; kissing his
forehead in grace and thanks,
before he falls asleep.

(3-14-2010)

The fire your heart was burning is
not what you typically see.
Could you tell ahead of time there would
be such power in your practice, or
did you know this time you couldn't
do all the work, and the world would
embrace you instead?
It was love you were receiving when
you opened up your heart,
and you knew this.
Remember, how you got up to say,
"This is truly how I feel,"
while you take all the earned consequences.

Till we meet again my friend. (Short Story, 3-5-10)

The best friend walked up to the person who makes his title possible. It has been months. Why the silence? Nothing about it made sense.
I miss you.

I can tell.

How so?

You just told me.

Oh, I guess you're right. So why all this?

Why all what?

This silence?

What do you mean? I'm talking to you right now.

Well, yes. I guess you're right. But we haven't talked in months.

Does that bother you?

Yes! Yes it does.

Well, I'm sorry.

Don't you want to know why?

Do you want me to know?

We're best friends!

What's on your mind?

Oh, so now you want to know?

Yes, yes I do.

It bothers me because best friends are suppose to be in communication with each other.

I don't see the problem.

What's keeping you from me?

Why are you judging me?

I'm paranoid that you think badly of me.

What makes you think that?

I make me think that!

You're too hard on yourself.

I see that.

Don't judge me.

I'll try not to. I guess I'm not too good at this.

You're doing just fine.

What make you say that?

You're doing what you know how to do. What could be wrong with that?

When it comes to making a fool of myself? I think I could make you a list of reasons.

There's no need. I understand what you intended.

You're so understanding.

I don't want to brag about it.

And modest.

Lets just focus on one thing at a time.

We'll start with humility.

We'll start with being happy.

Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a lot to do today.

No problem. I'll just catch you later.

Till we meet again!

Till we meet again my friend.

It was only a dream (A short story-poem 3-3-2010)

It wasn't real, it was only a dream; but it reminded me none the less of my body, laying in the day warm water as the air vent passed through the shower curtain, imitating as if it belonged to summer.

It was a dream; but a romantic dream that created fiction, inspired from human loneliness. I thought of days when the brush of someones body, or attention of another could satisfy weeks of high romance, and the mind could survive suffering in fantasy.

It made up a story of a broken hearted girl, who believed she'd never be loved for who she was; yet she lived her life, while he found her instead; giving her the love she surrendered asking for. He kissed her in his car as it rained outside. The overtone of grey was bright enough to call it day and not a gloomy disappointment to his kiss. She no longer felt the need to hide how she enjoyed grey-skied days, as though intuitively she knew they'd would be with her, delivering her to a moment where she'd be telling herself 'I belong here, I've earned this, I deserve this.'

She took the moment and ate the abundant love, and took the consequences that it brought even if the dream didn't last the rest of her life. Her heart was cast over everything she knew, and she had workers who would sweep the entrance of its home. If her love didn't wake in the morning, there was the guarantee of the sun, or the clouds, or the sky. Her heart was cast over everything she knew. She was strong and knew how to receive the romance she constantly desired.

What made his kiss alive was that he also greeted the sun, and he practiced loving her, with or without reasons.

It wasn't real, it was only a dream, but it reminded me of myself none the less.

Vow Today...(August 2009)

Vow today that you'll demand something deeper of yourself, where your heart opens wide for the collision of your mind, into the darkness of forgotten passion. Thirst for this union and intimacy; hunger for life. Run wildly into the depths of your being, celebrating you, and I, and them, and those no longer; and delight in this madness of falling apart. Create this passion to share; and lend your heart for an hour or two till the sun goes down, and the stars come out, and the joy you experience floods the tears you’ve been hiding. Love this fragile being, and forgive all his nightmares and false dreams. Park the critic on an incline, and forget about using an emergency break. Love me, and love yourself while you're doing this. Vow to be happy and bring happiness to others and delight in the actions of service. Find your heart in the depths of my own, and cherish all that is.

(3-1-2010)

Pride in our emotions is as
familiar to us as our name.
Inflexible declarations, of how we
become ourselves, won't salvage grace
or beauty in the war for independence.
Only memories of being a fool; yet a
kind fool, a sincere fool; hold
inspiration during uncertain times.
Only empty company brings us
back to ourselves.

(2-26-2010)

Tell me all your news of love,
of triumphs over demons,
where you were crowned king over
all the levels of your being.
How did you survive through foreign
markets, shielding yourself from thieves
and those corrupted?
Tell me of the games you played that
entertained your smile in the darkest
part of night, or the loneliest
day's hour.

Brave birds...(2-25-2010)

Brave birds, flying in the snowstorm,
can you see where you are going?
Lilac bush, so bare without your leaves,
breaking in half from the weight of the snow;
did you cry when you fell or did you permit
your own demise?
Can I borrow your wisdom, or the shields
on your eyes; may I take your thoughts
as my own?

Empty the need for a companion...(2-24-2010)

don't let a poet die, or starve
in a time of famine.
If falling through a well of grief
remember all your vows of kindness.
Walk in clear paths and be gentle
when you can.
Hush now,
no more thoughts
until you can breathe
with only breath in mind.

Who am I to say you don't belong...(2-23-2010)

Close your eyes until meaning falls away.
Hold your breath no longer than the
speed of its exhale.
Allow yourself to become tired, so you
can sleep tonight.
Dream, until broken statues become
sacred again.

Today is just a day...(2-22-2010)

Today is just a day to take away the patience
and fill the passion-producing machine with
frustration, hunger, and emptiness.

Is there any variable for chaos or change, to
transform honestly, results of peace?
Bring together the mind and heart, placing
boundaries on their speech, threatening
severe punishment on the one who
strays from good intentions.

You are of the willing..(2-18-2010)

Demons do not know peace,
demanding validation and expecting
to hear answers to questions like,
"Why me?"
They scream it isn't fair and expect your pity.

You bring them to the street, but the stomachs
of every man met have never known trust.

Don't shake the hand of grief unless you're
willing to embrace him the way his mother could.
With or without a teacher or companion, the
demons will roam the streets.
Never find yourself alone in the fight, but be
prepared to be the first to speak,
telling the world how you
are of the willing.

When they held this as their own. (2-14-2010)

She cherished me because she wanted to,
because it was in her to give.
She showered me in her heart.
She knew she would receive my love,
and she understood that she was worthy.

He cherished me because he wanted to,
because every cell and pore of his entire being was compelled,
confirming the sincerity.
He showered me in his heart,
yearning for my health as cherubs fell to the ground dying in ecstasy.
He could not be consumed in doubt or concern,
knowing he too was cherished.

They did this because the spirit was in them.
They responded to the heart's cry.
They accepted love and the commitment to service
of God, or the heart, or the unknown motivator
of such chaos.
Unknowing of the end they continued to stay open
to the spirit of this holy action.
They treated this all as the highest gift
and vowed to themselves never to see it as anything less.
This vow created their action to serve,
and when they held this as their own they were happy.

Don't tell our daughters...

Don't tell our daughters of the ocean or the sea.
Don't let them know any stories about ships docking in the bay.
Don't allow our sons to hear of boats 80 times the size of a man.
Don't let him hear the muffled bass of a blow horn.
If they hear of such tales they will forever be lost in wonder, dreaming of water.

Does the sun suffer like the earth?

Does the sun place its hand over its abdomen when it wakes in the morning, or does the sun ever sleep at all? Does it roll under covers letting cyclones enter its head, lifting and dropping its radiance? Is it the sun or the illusion of clouds which shields the earth. does the sun suffer like the earth?

February 7th, 2010

I pretended to be mad in the morning. I cursed at the dull space. I put water in the kettle for tea.

I wished for better days than misery. I prayed for a miracle but expected the received silence.

Maybe tomorrow will be better, and it was until I realized it was here, and these feelings remained.

I reached for the critic, but she also wasn't in her office. I looked for hope, but with a pillow so firm it was an obstacle to fall asleep. Why doesn't her secretary take messages, "just have her call me. Have her coach me back into shape." I wondered why I depended on the romantic self-discipline. Wondering what compliment I might pay him if my tongue could cherish his actions rather than metaphors of the sun. I wondered what the sky looked like this morning, but I was too busy cursing in the tub.

Who can bare their reflection in this? Who can bare their own self-disappointment? Who knows how to be lost like this?

The Circle of I

Hiding in the circle of I,
Frightened to tell the truth
To parties outside a perimeter
Of an ellipse that sings uncertainty
And beyond it lies a compromise
Of having no control over thoughts
And feelings not produced by that “I”,
Single-celled unit of a heart,
Beating, pumping, caffeinated blood
That strangles the stomach
And deprives itself of all nutrients,
Feeding off of panic in racing
Thoughts of destroying love
Only to imagine scenes of your
Abandonment, irrationally denying that
you are of the body of trust,
denying that you could ever understand
denying that I can let go of the history
that tells me I am too much
to handle by anyone, but conflicted
by my enlightenment, conflicted by knowing
the difference, conflicted by the obvious
reasons that force me to hide in
this dreary, self-absorbed circle, of
that I-in denial, awaiting the
hour where I will lay in your bed, revealing to you
the meaning behind the desperate
subtle hints that say, “I’m scared
today,” telling you it was just the
surface of the truth, presenting
this to let go of that “I” and
reenter familiar arms after having
and experience so profound that
I came to terms with compromise.