you need to slow it down some.
you've been feeling out of whack,
a ghost in your own shoes.
where is my mind?
in my body
or in the sky,
i wanna be here.
always here.
i need to practice
presence and patience.
my disjointed and unfocused ramblings will be the death of me.
i need to pay attention.
i need to meditate.
i am always here.
now i am.
it's not always butterflies.
sometimes you gotta make your own way to flutterby.

i was searching through
the buckets
of a lost and found
on the far side of town.
sweaty palms sifting
through ratty clothing,
a child's favorite book
stained and forgotten.
empty packs of cigarettes
on the ground
all around
me, from
people waiting for something
that they've lost and never found.
the sun peaks through
dingy windows,
grimy with the breath
of those that have lost.
is this what it's like to lose?
a box of memories
no one quite cares
enough to open up?
i will open you up.
nothing is lost forever.
one day you'll find
it,
in a box on the far side of town.

father of mine,
where have you been?
lost in thoughts of
who (wherewhenwhyhowwho?)
where
(who)  is
(are)        my
(you)             mind?

the good times, darling,
are they really killing me?
or am i stuck in reverse,
are my good times really weak?
paycheck to paycheck
i keep my buzz strong,
but if the bees at all the honey
then they'll surely starve.
I am nothing but a man
in a long dark hall,
afraid to turn up the lights
but I've already seen the road.
there is no dark and no light,
only the void and me.
i write this poem a little longer,
so that i remain free.

sometimes
life is just so sad it makes me want to cry.
not even for the sadness of my life;
the sadness in anyone's life.
your brother who died from cancer;
i weep for him.
your uncle that was in a car accident;
i feel your sorrow so deeply.
sometimes i wonder why it is we even continue living in the face of all this pain;
but i dont dwell on that too long.
because there is no point.
we do it simply because we were born to do it -
and until that day comes when we pass on to,
give love to those who are aching.
take the pain of another and make it your own.
feel the sorrow that is life, and revel in it.
life is suffering, said the buddha.
that doesn't mean you have to suffer with it.

hello,
have we met before?
did you forget your way?
the path meanders like a lazy river,
spitting water over the edge
but only as far as you can see.
its been a while since ive seen you here;
your face looks different now.
the bags under your eyes,
your skin not so fair as it once was.
but your eyes.
still alive and alight with pain and love,
piercing in the quiet ecstasy of another day not being wasted.
hello, why have you come here today?
are you looking to repent?
there is no sorry here.
there is only moving forward.
dont bemoan your sorrows to me, my friend;
i have sorrows enough.
show me your light.
show me your energy,
spilling over the edge of the river
and down the mountain to rest in the heart of the ocean.
hello;
aren't you happy you came?
there is no time wasted in the house of the rising sun
when you are the sun and your house is overflowing with light.

twilight gathers close around,
as the man in the corner twists and shouts
scratching his neck for the fix he can't find,
twisting and shouting, another day ends.
he wants to believe you,
he wants you to be right,
find another path
they tell him,
so you can fight another night.
as the itch it starts to burn,
and the burn becomes a rush
it's getting hard to fight today,
please, just please let this end tonight.