hearing voices, high pitched,
open a mouth and cover ears,
                  it helps it appears,
those sirens
calling
to environs,
plucking
my will to stay put,
                         shut up,
safe in my safe house,
playing
with nerves that,
have places to be,
while I sat at my key
board,
as ambulances and
fire engines roared
by, in urgency,
to an emergency,
they only know how to scream,
but
nobody
listens or
worse, they
don't care,
to get out of the way.

In laws, pardon the typo
in the law,
a system of justice,
like the law of averages,
it all equals out in the end,
laws are broken, people bend,
meant not to, break rules of the land,
the court is fair when it demands,
restitution, a repayment of sorts,
the system is in place when a face goes

behind bars,
near or far,
fear or worse,
in a hearse,
thin excuses,
juror recuses,
furor increases,
time decreases,
behind
bars,
penance the menace,
what we need here is some hard time,
under
the thumb of the law,

but the law has no thumbs, only scales,
held in the hand
of a blind maiden,
but what of the parents of a forever lost only child,
but what of the family who loses a father,
or mother, sister and a brother,
but what of a woman who lost her man,
will the maiden step aside and let them
hold the scales,
                        I think not,

                some say the system rots,
                 the law is devoid of the
                         emotion,
                         that those,
                             who have measured
                          their lives against a loss,
                                the experience has burned off the dross,
they are left with pure emotion,
unable to fill the void,
which the law was never meant to do,
we blame society for all sorts of ills,
rather than have society step in and fill,
the void in the law, that is compassion for the victim
the void in society which is not the wrong but to make it right,
the answer,
avoid the law?
no
avoid breaking hearts,
of blind maidens, and
avoid breaking
laws.

the fog that moves slowest,
is that, that hangs lowest,
on the bottom, in the long grasses,
as the sun rises and the day passes,

it
is said,

the fog lifts,
or it is breaking,
but it is taking a
break from holding
on to all things dear,

and all things near,
only made of droplets of water,
may as well be tears my daughter
has wept, that have clung to
hopes and dreams,
ripped away at the seams,
of her
atmosphere,

her world, her rock solid earth,
now a cold hard place, no hearth,
in the open,

no hope left in,
shelter out of the wind,
that causes her to sway,
rocked by every gust,
for we have grown too far away,
and it looked like all this time,

to this father
she went on to climb
her own path.
Up out of the fog.

The chasm
from one side
to another,

and the cosmic gap,
of Who in the heavens,
it is filled with...

not with a new position,
not backing the underdog to
the final of the Final Four,

not at the first sign of life,
inside, your girlfriend, wife, or lover,

enthusiasm...

filled with God.

Go with God, and be filled, to over flowing...
even a cracked cup or vessel, like you or me
even more than accuracy of Bessel, to measure space,

God knows you, with enthusiasm,
                             no chasm,
can separate...you...from His love,
                 look up to find His face.

was it the sprawl,
that could not be all,
was it the speed,
he could keep up, if he had the need,

he liked the vibe,
he hoped he had found his tribe,
but it broke him,

he built trust in bridges,
they could not span their own gap,
they looked solid and made well,
they were already jaded with rust
all in, was a bust,
they left him short,
it was a gamble from the start.

they did not know their lies,
their egos, half-truth logos,
would make a cosmetic surgical
nightmare of his heart-felt dream.

No cards, no games,
no table, no chairs on which to play,
tonight he moves out,
from there

alone

he may find a couch,
for a few nights,
he may have a couple of places to stay,
but what if that falls through

he has made choices
maybe even heard voices,
woke up not knowing how much time a
has passed,
but that all changed, it didn't last,
he knew that no longer fit,
the present or the future,
it was the past,

the cracks in the night and
he has bags under his eyes as big as
the bags he carries over his shoulder
he will not tell them the truth,

for if he has a place to stay,
hope it is better than the hell he has been through,
and if he is able to see the stars,
may he know that You are not very far,
and we are waiting by our phones for his thumbs,

to remember family
even when he is broken,
he is no less than the sum of his broken parts,
and a whole lot more,

to some of us,
loading his excess baggage into
the car,
he was going to join me to unload and
go back to clean,
I
drove
home alone,
he stayed there,
in that basement that
never saw daylight
to clean,
no roommates to help,

I packed his bags into
the overstuffed garage,
wasn't much but it isn't large,

we hugged before I got behind the wheel
to home alone, drive,
their were tears in his eyes,
that matched the ones on my shirt shoulder,

"it is so hard to leave this place,"
I could see it on his face,
not only was he broken,
he is sad,

he knows the door is always open here,
he has work,
with no place to stay,
he likes the big city,
and won't move a
large river away,
too far from work,
too far from the life,
he wants to capture,
catch it with that thread of hope
to sew the broken parts
of his heart,
of his head,
of his mind,
of his spine,
of his arm and legs,
of his hands and feet,
from his toes to his hair,

he has piercings and has beenbeenybeen pierced
by this
he is so close to where he wants to be,
to live, to have a life,
not a half-life,

he needs a roof over his head,
a roomate or two to trust,
hope that the job pans out,
he needs find nuggets,
not sand to pound,

even brokeness needs time to heal,
more could be said,
about God and man,
the church and all that,
but none of that and
all of that contributed
to break number 3.

Son number two but child number 3,
as parent when they walk
out that door, however they go,
not done raising them,
even if you have let go,
love them, let it show,
they need to know

otherwise they may walk in the
dark and it will swallow
all the broken parts whole.

It broke number 3,
it took about a year,
sleep and slumber befall me,
Watch over him, wrest my fears,
he did not think it would end,
this way without having another
place to stay.