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A Heart's Window

A moment ago we were young, but not without a care. We cared about a lot—too much, too many random things. Things so far out of control, complex, trivial things. We should have danced in rain, kissed in the meadow. Instead of worrying so much about the changing world. They were all against us, a million reasons why. The pull of shifting society had its grip on us. But your eyes, your magic eyes, reflected a new me— the one I always sought to be, made true in you. Oh, what I would give again to hold you once more, to whisper in your ear what I know: all we will be as one. And in your loving gaze, those eyes would tell me the same. For they have always known the words unspoken, of a love too precious ever to be spoiled in word. A journey of love becoming in time’s carving flow. Now, a little older, I see you— a beauty only I can see: the person, mother, friend, lover, my heart’s kind keeper. We cared too much, I’m afraid, about far too little. But I cl...
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A Life in Motion

The man I once was cast in still frame. Young, strong, virile and untamed.  Waking each morning in fluid motion. To stirs of child play and commotion.  The daily needs weigh a heavy burden. As I grab my keys and quickly jettison. To race again for the promise of new day. A day free to choose to sit and stay. A day to wait a little longer in Brilliance. Of the growth, learning and resilience. To see her, beauty in moments only I see. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle before me. Sweatpants, tangled hair a perfect glimpse. A woman unconstrained by vanity's crimps. Showered and shaved a quick kiss goodbye.  She sees my day as freedom and so do I. To be among adults, learning and becoming. A daily effort to evolve into something. A future me that begins as just for them. But slowly becomes a personal diadem. Where I belong and who I am shift away. From the man who wished to longer stay. To the man who must needs to quickly go. As days drift by and the street trees grow. Her tangl...
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A Patriot's Peace

I am strong and don't want to fight But my cause is just and always right So hold your tongue and sit tight As I bark a lot and threaten bite My cause is true, or so I am told By those who live within my fold They buy into the vision foretold A small price to avoid bitter cold Wars and bombs and hateful rallies As we add to death's great tallies Our war’s judged by chosen allies— An interminable string of follies I don't hate, and I am quite kind But I must sharpen the dull mind— They who can't seem to clearly find The simple answer, same as mine The fools, the fools—ignorant fools! Can't see the beautiful economic tools When we all play by war’s simple rules And let money flow, like warm drool Until the end—the bitter, simple end— Where I shall ask for peace, my friend As if all of this was just for pretend And not some final, calculated portend And soon my corpse will sit and rot On a hill reserved for valor fought In irony, we all rest in ...
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Halloween Town

They roam the streets and the woods, From city square to country corner, In Land Rover to the lifted 4x4, Dressed to fit in with the crowd— From Lululemon sheik to Carhartt tan, A look you see that fits the need Of a group that values uniformity. With a promise of acceptance. If you bury deep your novel self, Just grab a hold and tow the rope, And be invisible with like kind, On the streets of Halloween Town— A place you can be yourself, If you dare to scorn the rest And face their mocking and jest. Alienation comes to the unique, Who push away the masses, Or grab a group and adjust a look, Get mad when they are mad, Be glad when they are glad, Only feel sad when you are alone, On the streets of Halloween Town— From pride’s ticker tape parades To off-road’s muddy wheel wells, From suburbia’s parent pickup To downtown’s office towers— We fit the hand with a glove, Pretending it’s a perfect fit, Leaving hidden the truest you With the coverings of skin, And b...
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Relentless

I wake with a dollar in my head. Eyes foggy in the dark morning, The things to get done today To stand a rung above the rest. A relentless grind with no end— At least, no end until the End. To chase a more efficient way, And solve the changing riddle. It works, of sorts, if you are steady, A willing man with opportunity. If you work and truly sacrifice Kin and friend along the path, Then you, like me, can stand apart From the throngs of the masses Who true freedom never know, At the feed bowl of their master. You will see them fail in time And write it off as superiority— They were never made to make it. Count them among the cast out, The worthless and downtrodden Who will always need a master. Give them a little assistance, Give them their monthly pill— Enough to keep them surviving, Enough to keep them playing As the money falls in your funnel. Their life is like a rental car: Powerless and lacking options, Always a new master at the wheel. Many will try...
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Tax Class

A great and grand society Shall be known for equity. From the city's main road To the farm's croaking toad, It shall serve all you see— From you, to you, to you, to Me. You will own your property; That is your right to be. If you save and do without, You too can make the banker pout. But as you sit back and relax, Don't forget about me—your tax. For property's not yours, you see; It truly belongs to society. We hire for the greater good, People who shall serve the brood— Friendly people who mean well, But certainly can put you through hell. But stay in line, and you will see That you can use your property. Just pay the piper the price, As we decide what feels nice— To fund new additions and pensions, To rule—I mean serve—the legions. And they shall become the class With the largest voting splash. Pay rising from money well-known— Just pay if you would keep your home. Then pay the price—it is nice, To fund all that which we deem suffice. We...
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The Answers Unknown

The day was crisp. The season was early spring, and the sun was shining in a way it only can during that specific time of year. I sat for hours along the boulder-filled bank of the Skagit River, just watching the water flow past. Across the way, a bald eagle perched on the top of a broken-off tree. The quiet peace stood in stark contrast to my bustling morning of packages, humming conveyor belts, and the sound of my own voice yelling directions as we raced against time. To race against time seemed silly now, as I looked out at this mighty river—its banks perfectly crafted over millions of years, long before the silly distractions of man. There are some who sit alone for the peace of being alone, and there are some who sit alone because they are alone. To be the latter is to know true despair: to stare out at a magical river and have it reflect back loneliness. She runs big, strong, and united; in contrast, I sit along her banks—insignificant, as others have for centuries. In the cloc...
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Dreadful Bliss

Who is the author of my rebellion? The source of my foolish follies? Like a mega pastor on a jet, I worship the same sinister god. Mesmerized by status and station— A seat perched atop the masses, Supported by their basic survival, Their quest for a better tomorrow, And the dream that is promised: A spot on higher, firmer ground While the water relentlessly climbs. As the wealthy sit in rooms of ladders, Promising, in death, to finally give. I grew up with the faults of Boomers, As they lived for today instead of saved. They marched in drug-fueled protests, Only to see their leaders cash out. As the far-out kids redirected course— Jobs sent abroad in consumption's name, Currency debased to print a better today, Politicians stealing from babies unborn To feed allies and fatten themselves. No resource, just a survival of sorts In a world that plays follow-the-leader With eyes only for which others have. Now we stand, a powerless debtor stock— The children wh...
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Sand Castles

I close my eyes—deep and heavy— Searching for some inspiration, Perhaps for calm reassurance In a world that perfectly corrupts All that I wish to keep pure. I write for peace on a simple pad, To combat the inward strife with words, With no concern for preference or prose. The words clarify the uncertainty; They chase away worry and doubt— A true friend just there to listen, Prodding me along each blue line. It comes from a place unknown— First like honey, later like syrup— Silencing an inner narrative, Ushering in a peace seldom known. But now, you wish to monetize me, To write a word for money— Like I do my time and energy, My body and my soul, like a sheep. Hasn’t this machine robbed enough? Like a pack of wolves, they circle, Forcing you to run faster, ever faster, To chase them to another's home, So you can survive, and possibly thrive. But “enough” is an elusive shapeshifter. Society’s perfect plan cracking at the seams. They teach us to argue the ir...
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