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Light And Shadowİ
In the forest of my belief
Your Spirit Wind whispers through the pines,
making light and shadow dance and mingle
on the floor of my intentions.
And I am these
that play so freely on the floor.
The darkened shade of my will
and dazzling dappling destiny
dancing with the wind,
and turning with the seasons,
of my soul.
Love Aloneİ
As I look up towards the sky,
one thing you should realize,
is that it’s hard to believe in love
when you feel it all alone.
Walking ‘neath the moon,
longing to share with someone
your relationship with God,
that defines who you’ve become;
knowing you will never grow beyond,
unless you share your life with another.
As I look up towards the sky
that is so infinite,
I’ve come to realize that I
am even more dependent,
on the love that I breathe
while standing alone,
beneath the silent stars.
Infinite Regression
The image turns as I reflect
on my childhood past.
God was supposed to love this child.
Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t remember.
But trapped inside a mirrored maze,
I see my reflection in infinite regression,
descend back into the walls,
all moving to the motion of the present;
realizing that all the images are me.
The ones towards the back,
I can’t see.
Abstract Impressions
The outline of a child
tracing his past;
distracted by abstractions,
follow the line
of a distorted image
as it sprawls across reality
two dimensionally.
What is it?
The World Over Our Eyes
The pace of life pushes us on
to achieve successive successes,
living out our lives in oblivion to the real.
Yet there is the question.
We eventually all ask the question,
even if we can’t put into words
the feeling that we are caught
in a waking dream.
The mirror was cracked
a moment ago.
Reach out to touch
your residual self image,
and into the looking glass
you go,
to finally awake,
to your future.
Surfingİ
Virtual words can’t convey the real.
Pixels converge into thoughts so absurd,
blaring basic debased desires,
your scream changed to pulsing
tones on a wire.
On your node you know
you’re connected to the truth,
but to reach out and touch…
Someone. Something.
The light slips through
your fingers.
Intersected At The Cross
I walk beneath the moon at night,
symbolically to find some truth.
But when they ask I lack insight
I guess they really want some proof.
They say that we’ll evolve and grow
and end our search in factual info.
But I see that we are dragging down
in emotions we can’t say or know.
I looked inside to find the answer.
They say that’s where we start the searching.
So I sat in the darkness for a time
and found that I was only hurting.
I looked into some sages pages
and came upon the cost.
Fact and mystery converged in lines
and intersected at the cross.
Bouncing Between The Floor And The Ceiling
Intersecting the physical and emotional,
is the spiritual.
Hardly seeing the vertical,
I bounce between the two horizontal plains
and wonder why I don’t understand the pain.
Longing to transcend the moments,
I reach above,
only to grasp my emotions descending down,
and I wonder why I don’t understand the pain.
I’ve moved along the vertical if only for a moment,
and felt the peace that transcends understanding,
living beyond this cubistic reality.
But now I bounce between the floor
and the ceiling.
Bending The Lines
Do you read between
these broken lines?
Hues of hope and shaded desire,
that I dapple with a speckle
of my imagination.
I draw conclusions
with a curve.
Pulling away from the center,
follow the lines
back to the point;
hopefully to see the image spin
on the median of the moment.
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Letting Go
Like light through the window
they come into your life,
illuminating the walls of reality,
casting shadows that turn with time,
warming you with the hope
of a bright future.
But the glow fades in the evening,
like so many times before,
and confusing shadows stretch out
across the moments you spend alone.
Light slips through your fingers.
The hardest part of holding on,
is letting go.
Through The Yearsİ
Wave after wave the years go by,
changing the strand of my character.
Emotions rise to come crashing down
to drown out the stillness with chaotic passion;
reshaping my memories of time and space,
pulling moments from where I stand,
to set my hope adrift on an empty horizon.
And yet, in the chaotic sound of my frustration,
peace becomes a resounding reality.
Pulling the years forward is the sphere of truth,
an ever present force in the nights of decision;
glowing o’er the current of my feelings,
guiding my hope to safer harbors,
giving purpose to the changing strand of my being.
Within & Withoutİ
Spinning towards the compact vastness
of space between the first negative charge
and the positives at the center,
the bond I had with the neutral splits
and the light shines outward
through the darkness of the void.
I don’t shine alone, but the distance is great
between us as we hurl through the void;
like the space within, between the negatives and positives.
Like the space without, among you and me and others,
lending light as we rage in the distance,
shining together alone, we measure the span of time.
Turning Towards The Light
I wandered through the shadows,
a pawn to the players of darkness.
Forces beyond my control,
enticed me to turn in my emptiness.
So I played with the dark one’s desires,
and mixed philosophies and religions.
I thought I was in control of the whole,
as I fractured into fragmented divisions.
As I turned towards the glittering fiction
that I had made in my mind,
the dark ones seduced my reason
so the god of myself I would find.
The battle raged in dimensions near,
to its climax in the night.
But the day would come so clear
when I would turn unto the light.
And now I see some of the design,
that I was blind to years ago.
Now I see the truth and fiction,
that at one time I longed to know.
Between Dreams And Demands
I stand in the moment and seek the Eternal,
through the changing duties of the day.
Morning and evening cast their shadows,
and I turn to find myself lost in the world.
The pace of life produces a painful pulse,
as I rush to please the particulars of people.
The day turns twice the trice of true time,
but isn’t the servant the greatest in His kingdom?
The pace does slow in the evening shadows,
as I turn to find You through the watches of the night.
The moon glows in the stillness of the morning,
and I find what’s relevant, between dreams and demands.
Post-Somethingİ
I was reading the Moderns,
as my eyes blurred over
the fragmented lines;
thinking of the Postmoderns,
not knowing much about them,
feeling like they were Sinefield reruns
on the local channel.
There are so many of us
writing these days,
like a slowed shutter speed photograph
of an off hour LA freeway,
that I wonder who
will be remembered.
So what are we called?
Post–something…
Nuts and fruits and flakes
that you eat in the morning.
A Memory Of Our Future
I think of you looking up at me
through the sleepy haze of your dreams.
Some day you will realize,
that now,
you are but my dream,
from a sleepy summer afternoon.
The present ticks from the past
into our future,
and all I can do is wonder
when you will read this,
and understand.
Will we share a moment of tenderness,
sharing your dreams, and my memories,
of what things were like when the century turned?
Of what things were like,
today,
as I wonder about our tomorrow.
Fallen Nightİ
Driving west on 210, about the zero hour,
sinking low over the city,
the mysterious moon hovers solemnly.
Its winter crescent crimson
in the inverted layer of our wastefulness.
In the black sky it hovers
just above the glittering ground,
as if bound to earth, it cast down
the universe, along with the angels.
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