Sunday, August 31, 1997

out of place

everything is so neat today
seemed the same upon waking
from a comfortable slumber
will come soon again no doubt
righting the wrongs
raise up the downs
seems so much easier to find
from where I sit now
so many things are still
out of place

sending mail as the eyes get blurry
some of the details missed
those gone from the spot
seeing they are all the same
side of the table fell over
another cup of coffee
realizing I am out of place…

so many words

feel I owe you something
tells me when I write
down thoughts
don’t always appear
as planned
on speaking to you
were not around
me only book and pen
too over
many minutes
searching through thoughts
may come as a surprise
myself at times…

so I must apologize
for jumping down
your throat with words
don’t fit
this may not see
any eye but yours
are the important
ones here
what I have to say
I am sorry is an
understatement
to explain before you read
in the face I am…

after a long summer
both now on separate roads
that will cross seldom
does one make friends
that last and stand
the test of time
comes in life when
few things actually matter
of fact many times
I couldn’t tell what
made a difference
and what did not
mean to offend you
are one who I draw close
the window
stayed open a little bit longer…

can’t control frustration
is an emotion, a feeling
you know as well as I
cannot make sense out of
what my mind
does not want me
to ignore
what has been said
I thought long and hard
to handle
broken arrow pointing
me in the wrong

direction at times…

Saturday, August 30, 1997

cloud

in a cloud
can’t escape
from where I sleep
face down alarm
goes on and on
can’t move and you
are gone at three
nothing I could do
busy morning in here
out there
in a cloud
not phased by the rest
the world might end today
but I will try to be happy…

where it all began

first of another ten minutes passed
the spot hours ago
in another state
for the record of all the thought
back to where it all began
seeing things clearer
through the mist
brushing my face
expression lost
world gone wrong
thought for a time about the way
we see it all is the same
different details are lost
becomes first of ten
in a row where nothing much makes sense
no longer necessary to show me
where it all began
to become important
all who might be pulled close
the window briefly but open
anytime there is need
rising in the east now
where it all began
to slip away at one time
thought I understood
above but never really knew
where it all began
until I saw it here…

back om

train station many faces
all the same no expression
one walks higher than the rest
finally found at the end of a long journey
back om
so many think of you in many ways
who met you on you return home
where your light is seen and felt the most
right and left becoming opposite
as you sit lotus position
no one quite understands
your importance as I do
back om
still can't see the sun through clouds
new beads and prayers upon the return of
sit and think my smoke keeps me a step behind
ahead of those who just watch and wonder
what this special bond might be
back om
not much changing and there is so much different
it is just another day and I don't smell what they do
though they see the same picture
it is quite distorted in their eyes
not knowing the power in a simple smile
back om
our rivers becoming one again
three months ago I was a stagnant pool
and you a flowing stream
new sun shining on me
knew your light was needed here again
back om
arriving so that chapters can be closed
and books ended new beginning's and
another grandfather's wake
awake though seemingly lifeless
more now that the sun is shining
east wind blowing in a direction so real
only few here to see with souls
split a life ago is not so long
back om
the prodigal son returns to the feast
knowing how the story goes
don't let the waves break my concentration
never leaving my spot focus on center
allowing energy to flow straight through
to another thought how happy
as everyone that you are here
back om...

average stranger

today is the day and gone down the drain
follow the water slipping and sliding
finally waking from the daze clouding view from

where I sit is not too good as smoke floats directly
into my eye tears will not fall to the floor       
where bare feet stand firm tell me where I

am going and where I have been real before more
days until leaves call my name spoken by
few of us here have any answers to speak of

this is wonderful sight and sound becoming one
and learning the ways in order to get a           
better understanding again not so tall as

before more weeks and a month long journey to        
where the road sharply turns and tossing
restless sleep disturbed by a thief steal my

shut eyes and I fall face flat smash crashing rain
makes a crooked hat seem so straight ahead
down the road from where I work at

becoming what I might need more than

the average stranger…

Friday, August 29, 1997

what they say

no one ever seems
to mean what they say
and it gets hard to swallow
all the words
some forced down throats
in ears in front of eyes
no one even sees
hardly believing thoughts
knowing no one knows
and that they won’t be heard
not up on a stage
and not getting paid
not as entertaining
as others
need to be heard
but no one seems
to mean what they say…

are you listening

front step in front of a moving car
leaves eyes watering
my own words
unheard so many times
standing with so many around
the wall surrounding
my mind so ready to explode
no mess to be here now
wonder what they are
gain speed and slam into
the side of my face
at least giving me the attention
given standing there again
forgotten words never made it
to your ears plastic bag over
the head laugh a bit
are you listening
guess not
doesn’t matter carry on…

Thursday, August 28, 1997

he will be dead

click
and another camera shy junkie
makes his appearance known
to the general public
welcome back
another time
running out for this one
won’t last as long as the last
journey he was told
where to stick it
like your thumb and hit the road
bending but it will not break
for lunch doesn’t satisfy his hunger
deep down inside he itches for more
and can’t get enough
to make anyone else turn blue
in the face the fact of what’s the matter
so gray in the brain no longer rational
thought process lost in the world
where he doesn’t matter more
than anyone else or the dung riding fly
paper airplane stuck to the hands
on a broken clock no longer telling
what’s to be told and every day
feels like a lifetime
at the bottom with no end in sight
for sore throat gone after three days
rose from the dead of winter
those flakes seem real to him right now
nothing has changed
someone will be there
to get him the set list
will they make the call
rowing down the river
where nothing is really real
it’s all in his mind
and he will be famous
long after he is dead…

cannot be said

cannot let him die
and the shirt is faded
like his songs
still heard far in the background
rushing up as the jump is from
the roof of the mouth burned
when the coffee is too hot
swallow singing in a far off tree
crashing to the ground level
apartment building
a tower to the sky
might fall as the new season arrives
thinking long and
hard rain falls outside
singing way out of tune
the trees start to grow stronger
in this years ending in few months
gone with the blowing wind
dreams into sleepy ears
hearing what cannot be said…

Wednesday, August 27, 1997

nothing concluded 74

back to the grind
like teeth in the head
working with all I have
and it’s all I got to
go on you see?

wanting too much
at times
different turns and corners
around which
I might hide

seeing things
in my shoes
much different
don’t care what they
may say behind

nothing to be
upset with here
content with it all
eventually everything
will work itself out

a flower among weeds
was nothing
but poison to my heart
and mind
future uncertain

never have been
the one for
anyone
my guru sees me
for who I am

and he is gone
teaching me
to unlearn lessons
once taught to be truth
alone sit

infinite wisdom
all around
at fingertips
and toes
nothing concluded…

Tuesday, August 26, 1997

spin cycle

spin cycle occurring over
again back to the beginning
of a thought I was right again
apparently I was wrong
turn made another mistake
leading to disappointment
spin cycle on the road
leading to a place
one foot in front of another
answer might not be the right one
too many spins making me dizzy
fear of a fall coming soon
summer will be gone
spin cycle going around
the corner is sharp
the knife cuts like the wind
biting at heels
a wound as soon as it is created
a vacuum that sucks
me in and cannot breathe
this air is un-breathable
to understand so tall once
it was what I wanted
to become so much more
than what I am…

so what has happened

so what has happened
so many days pass and
when are we doing something
everyone seems happy but
sharing silence, sitting
relaxing, boredom creeps
in and snatches away the smiles
ringing in my ears and so many
uncomfortable with silence
and not doing anything with
enough excitement happy with
myself and the few things I do
and can trouble myself with the
things you want to do night comes
if there isn’t anything to do
then no one will emerge...

so what has happened
to the friendships
we discovered
only months ago or
is it just my own paranoia
afraid to be alone again
excluded
how are we really different

so what has happened
and what will become
of all of us as the days wear on
and the space between us becomes
further apart everything happens
the way that it is supposed to
but what I ask is
how do we go about avoiding
losing everything we just recently
found…

the return

so much time without
return trip anticipate
can’t wait
but what will be gained
and what has been lost
through all the miles
between us waking
in the morning to the sun
and I wake to an alarm
places to go and much to see
not really comparable
to the sights you have seen
of which I have seen none
my guru returns why so soon
not a bad thing just a surprise
hearing your voice almost home
the return to the place of your birth
rebirth after a short span away
sharing thoughts knew we would be
reunited didn’t realize it would be so soon
anticipating the return…

one hundred fifty

are you tired yet
has this visit exhausted
your mind so many in a row
if we miss a day will it be your last
how did we make it this far
don’t get me wrong
but what has kept you here so long
it is here and will tomorrow arrive
or is this the end
these eyes see no end
these eyes see your
and hope for another day…

Saturday, August 23, 1997

who are the right people

questioning what you said
response showed me you were not ready
to be asked
what did you mean
you avoided the question
what makes a person right
who are these right people
forced to wonder if I am one of the right people
if I truly was would we have made sounds
for unknown ears to hear
smoke rises from the glass tray
do not know what to think about words
who are the right people
wish I could meet these right people
just so I could know what they are like
do not mind that I am not one of them
right people if in fact I am no
great silent one who may know          
many things that I do not
what makes you my judge
a judge of anyone for that matter
who are the right people
what makes these people right
who is to say if they won’t
be wrong someday or everyday
though sometimes I might be right
to you I am wrong and that is too bad…

Friday, August 22, 1997

nothing concluded 73

seeing faces
haven’t seen
in a time
why now
why here

no reason
to misunderstand
or interpret
the wrong way
blowing off steam

adding a closed
door to the painting
untied ends
frayed need
to be burned

blamed the self
in the end
beginnings mistakes
thinking the self
was insane

wandering around
my own mind is enough
tangled in blue
no longer of being down
but being clear…

Wednesday, August 20, 1997

empty mind

are you packed and ready to go
no one knows we are leaving all behind
the wall no one can
tell me the story told backwards spin
sideways highways but no right ways
to be followed right into another thought
I saw it once before
we depart
of me does not want to es—
cape on my back does make me a super hero
could not save me now
we must be going regardless
unless one puts up a fight
at the door
comes crashing down with the moon hitting  
the ocean I cannot see where all of this began
as a cat scratched at another door
down the hall and cannot make sense
of the lies thrown on the table
where I left it on hold
all calls until we return
into something I am
not the same person I was a year ago
I was alone
unprepared to view the lighter day
the sides hide as I crawl from my spot open
and loneliness enters with the abbreviated orchestra
playing for the unknown sons and daughters
who came and went screaming
into the streets where it is too fast
to walk a mile in their shoes do not fit
these worn out old feet connected all the dots
never could understand what the picture was supposed
to be a person or animal of some kind
sniffs at the door in the rain of a cool august night
that won’t end the need for a journey to the beginning          
of another day
before the decision is made    
up like my bed before I lay me down
to sleep in the car with my foot on the accelerator
whips me into oblivion
laughing at the gash in both wrists
forgetting my bags at the stairs
jumping with a rope necklace attached
to the broken ceiling fan we never used         
enough gasoline set ablaze to my face
becomes red light telling me to stop
now would be something I could not know
I will not climb down the side of the building
bridges only to burn them so quickly
quietly returning to mind
a thought that scared me…  

Tuesday, August 19, 1997

looking for meaning

shut tight in the small confines of a room similar
to the mind where not many or any are
allowed four tracks and filling all in with

original thought and processing a unique sound         
yet used at times by few with similar talent
being a one man band of merry men

wait for you to let us hear you creation of
something wonderful of heart and when you leave
turn colors fading as memories

tend to under the strain of many days and nights        
warm with rain and sunshine and thinking     
someday we will stand high above on the

stage is set for act one hundred miles away down      
the road I barely touch as I skim along
road ahead and behind me all of the yesterdays

dreams are still thought of today
tomorrow where will we be
wondering around looking for meaning…

Saturday, August 16, 1997

nothing concluded 72

back to normal
what is normal
and can it truly be
recalled
car with a defect

things stay the same
and not much seems
to change
but that’s the illusion
when everything changes

season is almost over
ending
but no true end in sight
infinite thought moving
the mind to write

the mind too
scattered seems the same
but that’s the illusion
everything changes
mind never made up

back to normal
or not
standing or sitting
the meditation is written
nothing concluded…

Tuesday, August 12, 1997

nothing concluded 71

everyone is in the biggest hurry
rushing here and there
moving too fast
for this spot
chosen to chill

not many places
can be found where
the inhabitants
are not in a hurry
rushing

do all of these
busy people
ever relax
unwind
or do they simply

fall asleep exhausted
waking un-rested
only to do it
all over again
tomorrow

when was the last time
the busy folks
took the time
to watch the sun rise
or set

everything becomes a blur
beauty goes unnoticed
details go over looked
time and time again
everyone is in a hurry…

Monday, August 11, 1997

hard to swallow

well respected you are
one I feel I know
you don’t see me this way
or that doesn’t matter
of fact it is quite different
after months
pile up and reach the sky
so blue over head
down a one way street
where I do not find
what anyone looks for
to expect to find leads only to disappointment
to tell you about my mind
is never made up
to the standards of others
think they have won
or lost it is all the same
attitude as I have
seen too many things
just do not make sense
and I may not be right
in your mind, but right on
in my own
thoughts created
a palace where I can dwell
where I am at peace
doesn’t fit
this into the bowl of thought
I came to know
I do not have the answers
take time to find the questions
they fit as well as possible
as it may sound the bell
tolls for all
must come and answer
for actions
taken to counter act
as if you do not know
you display your own ignorance
may flourish in others
are not you or I
may get blurry vision
impaired
with acute hearing
that we are all the same
story though characters
are different for each one
we are
though it may get hard
to swallow…

Friday, August 8, 1997

at this time

all this might not mean
much at all
but for some reason
every little thought
hold some meaning
for me at least
enough to write so many down
in so many books
organized carefully recorded
but random thought
thinking will no doubt get me no where
but it still has meaning
where is it I hope to be
can’t even begin to know at this time…

nothing concluded 70

reverse the gaze
wondering what the others see
laughter comes and
a tiny piece dies
every day

asking for things
no one needs
foolish questions
and crazy unintelligible
answers that do no good

death is another
part of life
the end maybe
maybe not
who knows

breath stops
the body dies
but are we only
our bodies
nothing concluded… 

Thursday, August 7, 1997

the other

push me out a window
know I will not fall there
where only wind howls
scowls at ideas
fears pinned under stones
bones aching in the heat
sheet so clean and bright
night becomes another
brother gone away
stay where I be
see and hear now
how I will not fall
all that I have become
some wish I was
because no confidence
fence surrounding
pounding on the shore
bore I feel I am
can only do so much
touch smooth rocks
socks wet in the grass
pass all the warning signs
lines drawn in the sand
land back on feet
repeat a thought or two
you on this mind
unwind with coffee and smoke
joke I am I forgot to laugh
half of what I know
show you the other…