While walking down Federal
I see two men in an alley shouting
Another man is on the ground
He is bleeding very badly
Statistics say I will run
But I feel like being different today
I feel like being the one who cared
Not practiced at turning my head
Never surrendering in silence
I have seen enough to know
Opportunities are everywhere
And if its an opportunity to do good
You have to take that chance

On growing up
And past and through it all,
I have been learning.
Learning to push my roots down,
and spindly arms
Up high towards the light.

You see,
The most important thing
In the world
Is to remember.

You've been here before.
To this same dark night,
Or at least many like it.
To these same grey days,
Where clouds cover
All positivity from your soul.
You've been here before.

And what happened before,
Is what will happen now.
The most important thing,
is to remember.
The dark never lasts forever.
The sun always returns.

it is just past
the witching hour
yet still i sit
stitching my id
into the gossamer
warp and weft
of the world wide web
a signature cosseted
in anonymity...
a virtual
i was here.... i live
and write to tell the
tale of my living...
stitch by lettered
stitch i leave a quilt
to cover my world....

be still,
           be the small silent
                                        calm

be quiet,
       be the small watching
                                        mouse

be pliant,
               be the seed
                         spinning on
                     the wind

be memory
                  be the glint in
                             the wise old
                elephant's eye

be wisdom,
                 be the paradox of
                             the monkeys
                      three

be kind,
            for kindness needs,
                               to never be
             lost or neglected

be strong,
                 be passionate,
                for the world needs
                                strength
              and compassion
in order to grow.
                

but above all,
                      be love.....
            and allow love to be...

in all it's ....
        wonderful,
          guises and capacity's

and these my son,
                are just some
    of the steps

       in being a better man.....

The nurses at the front desk
throw folders
and wisecracks
across the spaces between them,
and offer one
as a moving target
for a game of darts
with pretend syringes.
Watching the relaxed bustle,
I'm reminded of a line
from Stranger In A Strange Land,
where "waiting is",
but at times you have to wait so fast
that you move at blurred speed.
All seasoned with
a light-handed graveyard humor,
promising to make sure
and dull the needles for me
special-like next time.
Just to make it official,
I throw my folder
at the main perp at the front desk
when leaving.
The dartboard du jour
cheers with thumbs up.
I'm one of the gang.

she treads unholy ground where you have faltered
shoulders broken soul to see you rise
she would kiss the sacred salted waters
seeking only sweetness from your eyes
her knees are buckling, carrying a burden
soft as love and heavier than stone
lips release a sigh that's only heard when
she feels safest, thinks that she's alone
tenderness to touch and heal the wounded
child within you hiding from the world
forgiving feet walk 'round the evil you did
bids you sleep, her arm around you curled
she's the reason flailing poets try to
grasp her gracious great unreasoned why.

Bone shards of our imaginary life
break loose from time to time.
Shredding their way
through my bloodstream,
they rip and tear at the fabric of my carefully pieced together reality.

I loved a quieter version of you.
A place where broken hearts held true.
And hands were firm, but nice, though strong.
A place where voices could belong.

I loved you in a fairy tale, a place where laughter was strong and hale.  I loved you in a tiny place, where no one knew your splintered face.

I loved you once, in a country song,
I loved you, loved you, till the dawn,
When truth erupted from each pore.
Your fists broke through the bathroom door.

How many moments locked in time,
Pictures of,
"I am yours," and,
"You are mine."
A fairytale written inside my head.
Our love affair was always dead.

And if I could only separate
The you I loved
From the you I hate,
Would it smooth those shards
Of broken bone
Of twenty years together,
But always alone?

*I loved the quieter version of you.

when
the poison
is ported through my heart
and eventually arrives
on the slow boat
to its terminal
when
it does its designed job
while picking up side work
in other organs
when
the projector is shut down
and the reality
is walking beside me
within me
I will let you know how I am.