I awakened myself with a start
and crammed my medicine down
Opened old with fresh wounds
hunting myself with a pack of wolves

My soul choked within the morning
as it crawled to my daily tasks
Performed them standing on my head
when the wolves went to take a nap

(see me)
                See me running while I sleep

(tease me)
                   Tease me with that slab of meat

(please me)
                     Please me as I feel no pain

(free me)
                Free me with sweet insomnia again

Lulled me to sleep with soft panting
I opened mine eyes within your dream
where stones and metal ease the pain
Holy eyes closed in unholy sleep

The night stampeded like oxen
My soul dimly lit your face
My home now this haunted keep
since I never woke again

Just try to pull me from my bed
and flush my medicine away

Try and close my open wounds
and put a lead on the wolves

My sleep will only get deeper
The dosage will only get higher
The wounds more infected
The wolves bigger and faster than you

(see me)
               See me alive when I awake

(tease me)
                  Tease me then let me wholly partake

(please me)
                    Please me by letting me feel again

(free me)
                Free me with sweet peace again.

When a mountain
   I dare not climb
the ropes and tackles  
  are in abundance

In great shape
  my body and mind
Not a weak link
  in the expedition

But when a mountain
  I dare to climb
the ropes and tackles
  are often misplaced

Out of shape
  my body and mind
Weakness as a
  spell does bind

Hopes and dreams
  of tireless youth can
be all but forgotten
  in the spiritually aged

Strength   the glittering
  cloak of youth can
fade in weakening
  jaded resolve

But in me common
  traits dissolve
The bucking steed
  will never be tamed

Pigeon-holed the
  misfortune of other
souls   has not been
  allowed by my resolve

But this determination
  is not without cost
The foothills of youth
  are far removed

by erosion caused by
  unstable belief systems
washed away into
  the Sea of Ambiguity

A distant mountain
  I often see
(distance   the deceiver
  of proportion)

Challenged at the foot
  of the formidable sight
halfway climbing
  only to slip and fall

Does this mountain
  need to be climbed
Do youthful dreams
  need to be fulfilled

When these dreams
  are all you ever had
you wake up falling
  or climbing higher

Driven by dreams
  and gifts and talents
that rage like a river
  in the driest desert

calling home what
  must come home
holding on to what
  must be fulfilled

Obstacles that have
  become landmarks
seem to fade
   into obscurity

like threats that
  always remain empty
laughing at what
  used to bring tears

I remain standing
  through all these trials
not unscathed
  and a bit weather beaten

halfway up another
  formidable mountain
making up for lost time
  from a major fall.

A palette of paint to paint his face,
Clothes full of colours bright,
A round red nose that bobs like a ball,
He is ready with a smile.

Comic antics that delight folks,
He rides, slides, cartwheels and falls,
Slips on banana peels, juggles fruit,
Tickled faces all.

When night comes, off comes the paint,
The nose, the wig, the clothes bright,
In dwindling darkness he rests himself,
Now his face he hides.

A jester, he jested, he cheered —
A camouflage in art,
But to himself, alone and quiet,
He rests his aching heart.

An act extraordinaire —
Oh how he does beguile,
But to himself, now alone,
Who’ll make the jester smile?

There we are
Bundles of thoughts and nerves
We plan and script
Burn the midnight oil
Charting paths and mapping
Defining destinations
But then, life happens

And it will

I suppose I could brood
And close tired eyes
Or I could lasso a cloud
And hitch a ride to paradise

What of relationships that go sour
Let go I suppose
But what if I can’t?
What if I want to mend?
Not throw people away
Like a workman, keep at it
Like a tailor, **** torn clothes
Like a cobbler, sew and patch
Mix binding glue. Fix. Fix. Fix

My Kintsugi


So, I keep searching for what is good
The glass half full
Reasons to hold on
Justify
Belie
I collect
Broken pieces of myself
Shreds of hearts and memories
Of people and pain
Though things may never be the same again

Imperfections. Transience.
Life. Resilience
Whatever

May be one day
I’ll move on. Be stronger.

With life, I’ll flow
May be one day
I’ll learn the art of letting go

Somewhere tucked on a bookshelf is a book.
Dogeared, yellow pages with a hand written note.

In a box, lie trinkets — gifts, a pendant of Annie, a book mark.
Hand made cards, smudged with time.

An old doll almost intact,
Broken spectacles, pictures, a watch and postcards.

Some may call it clutter, junk —
And it’ll all go when I go.

But to me, they are the reason behind my smile, an odd tear.

More precious than collectibles or art —
They are pieces of my life,
My world and heart.