We are as a drop of water Falling through space And time; What And who We interact with along the way Become Both what we experience As well as what we are. We must be kind And caring To all we interact with Showing love and mercy, Being to them As we wish they would … Continue reading We Are As a Drop of Water
They've entered your thoughts again, my dear, And by now I hope it's clear They've no interest in your best interest They offer nothing to you but fear. They've come to take what can be taken, To shake free what can be shaken, To pilfer while you're lulled to sleep, So my darling, please awaken. … Continue reading That You May Never Feel Alone
When others speak for us, We are often reminded of our differences. When we speak for ourselves, We discover our similarities.
The birds are singing to one another now, They do not sing to us, But we are listening. New buds are growing slowly on the ends of branches, Displacing ever so slightly the air around them, Coming to our ears as a low hum, And we wonder: To how many monsoons could this movement be … Continue reading The Sounds of Springtime
To sleep is not always to dream. Why then Do we assume that to dream We must always be sleeping? We have seen the vacant look in the eyes of Colleagues, Friends, Strangers on the Green Line train; We have wandered the empty hallways and corridors of buildings vacant all other human life, A curious … Continue reading To Sleep is Not Always to Dream
Why do I even write these days? Why do I try? Why do I try as hard as I do when clearly there are more effective and efficient approaches. Someone has it figured out... Not me. I see so many others who write poems that reach audiences of hundreds or even thousands. I see … Continue reading The Fall of the Vapor Mystic, Part IV (What We Do for Love)
Know that Though I have said so many things To so many of you And though you have responded With such kindness and love that it draws the tears from my eyes as from a well These things are only temporary; I will be gone some day And there may be no person to speak … Continue reading In Each and Every Thing Which Crawls or Walks or Even Slowly Grows as Moss or Lichen
In Tehran, There is no hope, "A living hell" So they say on the TV box and in the pages filled With so many carefully chosen words. This is fine, Really, To be expected. I mean, Tehran is not in the United States, And that is just what happens When you are not in … Continue reading In Tehran
There is a soul sickness in the church. I can smell it on them As they stumble in to the American Legion on Burma Ave And proceed to verbally and emotionally abuse the serving staff Then retreat to their huddled circles To debate whether their all-encompassing love Could ever be extended to those whose values … Continue reading On a Sunday Morning in October
Stories and lore! Stories and lore! How could We have forgotten Stories and lore?!