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Thursday, January 24, 2013

I Wanted

When I was less than two
 I wanted to be changed, fed
And rocked until I slept
To be understood
For everyone reason I wept

When I was five
I wanted to play
Laugh and learn
To pick up something new
At every corner I’d turn

When I was a little more than ten
I wanted to sing and live.
I wanted to be
 more than something 
dreamed or imaginary.

When I was fifteen
I wanted friendship.
To live and dance.
To not fear fate
 Or avoid chance.

When I was twenty
I wanted success.
To carry what I’ve learned.
To touch the future
And not get burned.

When I was twenty five
I wanted love.
To hold hands with hope.
I wanted to survive
The occasional downward slope

Now I’m more than thirty
And I want to be better.
I want the days to be longer.
I want the world
To be kinder and stronger.

And whatever number of years
That may come after this,
I am quite sure
 My list of wants
 will be for more

more love
more hope
more success
more friendship
more life
more laughter
more of me
and more of you.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013


This is like nothing else
And so this I can’t explain.
This isn’t like thunder
Because thunder loudly comes and goes
And this silently stays

This is nothing like the rain
Because the rain fills the rivers
and helps the living grow
This drains my strength
This stunts my heart’s growth

This is nothing like grief
Because grief is the lowest of many steps
This doesn't lead my shoes
 to any higher levels
This curls alone in a dark corner

This is nothing like madness
Because madness stems from passion
And has wide, intense open eyes
This has no loving roots
This is a weed suffocated beneath cement

This is nothing like pain
Because no drug can numb this
This can’t be put to sleep with pills
This lies beside insomnia
With no hope for a peaceful coma

This is nothing like fear
Because fear is conceived by the unfamiliar
And I know this too well
This can’t be conquered face to face
This has no face

This isn’t rage
Because rage can be hushed
Like a strong breath to a candle’s flame
This burns
 like a thousand year old unknown part of space

This has no metaphor
This has no image
This has no voice
And I hope you never know this

Where is Your Heart

You tell me your mouth can sing a tune
That tricks an angel into thinking heaven moved
as she starts to pack her things
And spreads her wings

But where is your heart?
Can I hear your heart?

You tell me you can lift
 your weight and mine in tragedy
and carry it forever without putting it down
You can be stabbed with sorrow’s sword and never frown

But where is your heart?
Can I hold your heart?

You know words so large,
they bulge out of margins
and that’s okay,
 because you can tailor their pages in such a fancy way

But where is your heart?
Can I read your heart?

Can you show me a smile
Those words have magically marked on a face?
Can you show me the goosebumps
That formed when your travelling voice
reached the soul beneath another’s flesh?

Where is your heart?
Can you show me your heart?

All this strength and talent you carry
Mean very little to me
 if your heart
isn’t big enough for distant eyes to see.

So put your heart inside 
everything you share
and help love move the world

Monday, January 21, 2013


Walking upside down
a million paces behind the morning
The stars my stepping stones,
The night sky my pond
I figure if anything can teach my feet
The right steps
In the dance of life
It would be the constellations.

Sometimes though
I look up at earth
And miss it so…
 I forget that it rarely had time for me
And back again, like a turbulent affair,
 to the ground I go

Strolling through
 a summer’s dream
The moon hides
Lost love behind its face
 Love that used to reside
between the sand
And ocean’s greeting kiss
Every time I walk the shore
I find that I miss you more
And back again, to the sky, I go.

Like a plane
 passing through,
A piece of me forever flies
Over a waving sea of goodbyes.
Everyday my life begins
At a vacation’s end.
My heart is a tired traveler
with no more postcards to send.

Thursday, January 17, 2013


Hope, for me,
has been more like a forgotten house key.
The mundane takes my mind hostage
and I lock myself out of my home;
the very one I began building as a child.
He-man and She-Ra stacking Legos
while the G.I. Joes bravely stand guard,
the Transformers in the driveway,
and Little Ponies prancing in the yard.
After superman put on the roof,
I stocked the bedroom closet with glass slippers,
and then followed 
the scent of celebration
to see Strawberry Shortcake baking in the kitchen.

Now I'm outside
like a stranger,
peering into the very same window
that I used to gaze out of...
The magic window
the only one where I could watch
Lady and The Tramp
 chasing after The Grinch.
The only window where I could go,
 to taste the cotton candy sky
When I pressed my face against it
and the sweetness left my heart all dizzy.
Though sadly, the magic doesn't work
from the side where I'm standing
 and the only key is locked inside. 
If I break-in, it won't ever be the same
 Now, I'm the only one to blame
 for forgetting to take it with me
 so I could come back home.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

A Random Explanation

I connect letters
each with cases,
and various shapes
 Some straight, others curvy
 and play matchmaker
 with words and scenes.
I have no more
 than one or two pages worth of time
 to make it all work 
just enough to not appear tired.

I set the empty sky up on a date
 with a full harvest moon
I introduce the stars
 to a pessimist’s dusty dreams
And sometimes...
Not always.
But sometimes,
 it all works out
And I will sit back with a smile
as I watch them stroll
through some scenic place,
fresh with color,
 and background sound
sharing harmony at a perfect distance.

I take contradictions,
 balance them on each hand
And then join them together
Until they become
 one prayer of a promising friendship.

I touch emotions with warning labels
Too hot
Too cold
Things that spark and cause a shake
when thrown in a tub of sorrow.
I leave caution to fend for itself,
while I relentlessly dance with fear
until the jealous night concedes.

Some nights I trade
 lamps without lampshades
for lightly scented candles
 with trimmed wicks

Some days I choose a keyboard
So I can delete the thoughts
Of feeling like something
That is filled with crumbled paper

I've been called a poet
perhaps because I am really nothing
Without poetry.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

January Rain

January Rain
You were just as pretty
As the first fallen snow
You found the perfect spot
caressing the moonlight
against my parlor room window
And now, in the heart of my shadowed thoughts
 You still, and will always glow
Some will only think of you in summer
But in the freezing nights and short-lived days
I still wait for your sound, you know
And although there’s a blanket
Comforting the ground
The white silence doesn't soothe me
There was life with you around.

I wrote this poem this afternoon, while listening to this video.

Dedicated to my sister Amanda  1-30-81 - 8-17-12
she's showering heaven with her vivacious spirit

Wednesday, January 2, 2013


Lose love
Replace the loss
With trouble that will leave you sick
Fill the void with pain

Lose an angel to heaven
And replace the loss
With several layers of hell
Fill the void with anger

Lose the central piece
Of your puzzling life
Throw the leftover pieces in the trash
Clear away more room for the emptiness

Lose what you've spent your life saving
And replace the loss with destruction
Crush the rubble,
so you’ll have meteors to throw in space

Lose all the passion you've won
And never play for first place again
Fill the void with the silence
Of an empty stadium

Or stop walking in circles
Listen to the hearts
 trying to help you beat away the sorrow
And realize that love doesn't get lost

It moves, it grows, it changes,
but it always knows its way
Most importantly, it waits for you
Until you remember yours

So stop losing time

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

A Tired Prayer

Just A Life
Like the breath of many
Wrapped in layers of consistency
Nothing extraordinary
Pale complexion
With eyes as heavy
As its sighs
Dying to leave
and so it cries

Just A Hand
Scarred, but tender still
tracing an empty page
No ink and no quill
The unwritten remains
A nomadic thought
With no place to stay
Passing through the night
Vanished by the day

Just A Voice
trapped behind trepidation’s lips.
Never lifted beyond a whisper
Too weak to escape limitation’s grips
hoping for enough strength to find a home
somewhere melodic, near a deep, peaceful lake
stocked nightly with fresh dreams.
A sunporch where a soul can bathe itself awake
Or watch the summer rain
 court an English Daisy

Just a tired prayer
In need of so much more
Than time can share.