You cannot hide from what is to come
Whether you know it's coming or not

But to know not of what is to come
Is a true blessing,
As knowing your fate
Leaves only space to wait

And waiting, is not living
But rather an inescapable torture

You cannot hide from the inevitable.

Internal love
Conceived
Eternal joy
Begetting
Immortality

Somewhere in the darkness reaching,
searching, hoping, groping, seeking
Try to find a way into the light.

Questions form upon my lips
but no one answers, no tongue slips
a word of hope of praise of love of fear.

I find the light and all around me
people wander, groping blindly
for the light or just another soul.

I watched as the storm gathered its strength                         c. 6.11.14 J.Ray
As it summoned its lightning from the heavens
I listened for the thunder and marveled at its resonance.
I watched as the rains came and drenched the land
Each grain of dry land was consumed by its own thirst.
I watched as the river roared, and carved a new way
I watched as the trees swayed, but stood firm in the soil
I watched as the storm passed, along with its darkness and unfounded fear
As the darkness gave way to light, the sun no longer hides his face from me
We weather the storms that life brings, this way we can appreciate the sun
Sometimes we tend to go our own way, as the river, and carve out our existence
Sometimes we are swayed, but must stand firm, and hold on by our roots
Sometimes we are so overcome by want, that we are consumed by that very desire
As does the ground, we remain, and bask in the light.
Watching and waiting
For the next storm

Lies! Money is greed, greed is money,
Credit is given to the wrong types of people.
The stupid ones who were not taught
How to behave with their newfound freedom
And systems of fake income!
Don't spend what you do not have,
But they believed they had everything.
Love. Money. ***. Fame and fortune, the world
Was in their hands!
Until it all crashed down in 1929

Who am I? And what do I do? I know I should do things for me but are they measured by you? I search for belonging, a fellowship with a few, but it turns out that it seems I'm always misconstrued

A:

I have been waiting 10 years
for father to stop hiding
underneath the wooden table
that rests hunched and gauntly
in the living room.

B:

It took father three days after I was born
for him to finally hold me; now he tells me
that his hands were splintering too much,
but I’ve seen enough of his palms, covered
in plant & ash & soil, to know better.
.

C:

July of 2000 we sat tucked away
like old wolves’ fur
into a blue station wagon. I refused
to talk to anybody but my father.
I sat the way he did, shoulders crooked
like the gardens of elderly women. I talked
the way he did, too, drawn out and low,
like swirling concrete.  

D:

Now I stay alone in his apartment
and sit out on the fire escape
and annoy the neighbors with my smoke
and watch the cars go by and wail
the way the city does at night.
I think less about my father
and more about being alone; I think less
about being alone and more about
how I can take away this skin, this body.
My body looks just like my father’s
and I hate him for it.