Hello my lifeline.

I hope the suffering is manageable.  If you don’t see the light, just breathe and wait.  You’ll see it eventually.

In my experience, I always saw life through a microscope.  Dissecting - every path, every decision - to the densest part of its core.  For what? For personal satisfaction.  For peace of ego.  I am sorry to disappoint you, but the part of you that wants to know every answer will never have enough.  

As I write this to you (a bit prematurely, I might add), I think about what has truly mattered to me in my life thus far.  Laughter. Sunlight. Deep embraces, especially with women.  But just as important have been the tensions and the moments of immense pressure.  Good is only relative to how well you can endure the bad, my son. To be honest, I am not able to cry as much as I wish I could.  Sometimes, I think my feelings don’t work as good as others.  

I tell you all this to arrive at the greatest defeat of my life.  The time I let my ego make the ruling, and my soul beared the eternal consequence.  I had a father quite similar to yours.  He was stubborn.  That’s what I remember most about him.  One difference between him and I was that we didn’t trust each other.  But you and I, we do.  I hope.  At some point in our journey, I had the choice to choose love, choose God towards my father.  To be a kind man to a battered one.  I decided against it.  I pitied myself.  I was bitter.  It was the wrong decision.  

Now, I realize how an intelligent man like yourself might interpret this message as extortion.  Your old man wants to insure his son will listen to him when I’m old.  This is not the case.  This message is just an opportunity to say I love you and I’m human.  You are healing me, simply by being.  I wish my father could have said this to me.


With Love,
Dad

Beat the Drum

Get your groove
Find a rhythm
Beat it loudly
With energy
Let the sound carry
Far and wide
Beat it
For the ill
For the hurt and forgotten
For the dying
For the suffering
For all the lost souls

Beat the drum

For the living
As loud as you can
March down the street
Proudly
Let others hear you
Let them join you
Come together as one
We are only human

Beat the drum

For the world
For all of us

I feel it pull
on me,
im not meant
for it,
the weight
of love

you saw the empty glass
just before i left.
the way you came down on me
still rattles in my chest.

you were way too harsh.
your words lodged in me
for years.
because you were
a drinking buddy.
i didn’t need you
to hold a mirror up to me.

“i know by heart,” you said,
“that glass will be followed
by another.
isn’t that right?

so can you promise me
when you get home
you won’t drink?
because tomorrow,
i will know.
you know i will.
and i’ll never trust you again.
if you lie to me.”

i didn’t drink that night.
not because i didn’t want to.
but out of anger.
because you were right.

sometimes, years later,
your voice still follows me.
you’re part of the past,
and it still haunts me.

i could do
with a round of tough love.
another of your harsh truths.
because i keep fighting these battles,
and all i do is lose.

Death dies when hands tremble
leaves my side to inhale her last breath
to a truth that sees behind a lost face.

Poetry is a rumble of the garden's bees
with one spin of a roll of the dice,
protects his queen and dies a hero
and the white leaves his eyes
and the ants rip into his torso.

What's a feeling of a sting ray's given
when provoked to rise and strike?

Moving rocking chair in this haunted room,
you sat in and knitted up the memories,
brushing my face as a child with a broom.

Alice on tv,  with a scope on mushrooms
one born to eagerly fulfil his imagination
of a toy soldier and a world of fantasy.

A death knell will sound the night....