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  Jul 2014 Sjr1000
Jack
~

Painted in a corner

Smeared about the floor

Chants of lone forgiveness

Quiet in the war



“Deafening the sound of death”



Garden roses trampled

Broken stems abound

Wilting on the visions

Blooming losses found



“Petals of peace scattered carelessly”



Blood along the pathway

Eyes hid in the mist

Penning someone else’s name

On this lengthy list



“Alphabetical to the grave”



Standing from the shadows

Crossing battle lines

Reaching for the freedom

Voices loud can find



“Speak up children, your voices matter”



Put aside your weapons

Time has come to cease

The nation now has gathered

United prayer for peace



*“On our hands and knees we pray… send the evil far away”
I was asked to write a poetic prayer for peace by a young friend in Iraq. This is what I wrote.
Sjr1000 Jul 2014
Mommy mommy
take me home
I've wandered these streets
alone
for far too long
what's a grown man to do
not knowing exactly
what he's supposed to do.
Bourn too many moments
of other's sorrows
at the expense of my own.

Mommy mommy
take me home
I saw you in my
dreams last night
a corpse in a car
you honked
as you drove on by
my thumb was out
trying to hitch a ride
to where I can not say
you put your finger to your lips
"Shush, baby"
was all you had to say.

The lights of the city burn
each one someone's home
each apartment
like souls
world's of their own
I've knocked on many doors
and some have let me in
though a place to rest
no home, no peace, no silence
for me.

I've been a restless poet
a wanderer too
forever traveling through
those internal landscapes
a paid guide
through all those painful memories
and those standing on the edge of suicide
some move along
some fall behind
I offer that pool of peace
reflections
is all I've had to give.

Mommy mommy
take me home
you are running far too late
I've been alone out here far too long.

Standing on this corner waiting
my eyes are tired
in burn outs fading light
the
streets shine neons invitations
but none welcome me.

Mommy mommy
what did you mean
when you put me out here
to be
and when will you pick me up
or
will I remain forever lost
out on this corner
thinking each car coming is you.

I'm still wandering these streets
paying the cost
looking for home
looking for you.

Mommy mommy
time to take me home
time to take me back to you.
We all know the feeling as a child of waiting to be picked up. The feeling remains no matter how old we may be.
Sjr1000 Jul 2014
I'll be your Elk's Head
granite and sandstone
falling off into the Pacific
falling off over thousands of years
I'll take everything
the ocean has to give
every storm
every wind
with my smooth scarred
face forward
into the sea.

I'll be your kayaker
on those hormonal rivers
running through the white waters
of
ups and downs.

Sparking fireworks
like the crashing waves
at Elk's Head
we'll both go ooh and ahh.

I'll be the wood stove
warming you
when you lay
most exposed.

I'll be the breath
you feel when you are lost
in the nightmares of realities past
I'll breathe peace in
and fear out
with each breath
I take.

I'll be the morning sun
after migraine night
the
end of the pain
the beginning of delights.

I'll be there
when
the road is dark
a flashlight through
the horizontal snow.

We'll be there
when
the final nova flares
fireworks explodes
into oblivion
that'll be my hand in yours.
Sometimes we all need a little love in our lives.
Sjr1000 Jun 2014
There's a full moon risin'
in a blackened sky
there's a full moon
sittin' huge
on the horizon sky.

There's someone standin'
on top of that hill
could it be I?
Hearin' music coming thru the trees
dancing
an old soft shoe
arms held high
silhouetted
by
that big full moon sky.

There's a shadow bein' cast
long thin and lean
stretchin' out creating darkness,
while illuminating light
all around
the shadow movin' ahead
a thin strip of darkness
and callin' it my life.

Illumination
darkness
a small pin light
flashin'
on
memories
possibilities
metaphors
allegories
waterfalls
in
all­ those
exquisite present moments
the poetry
our flash light lightenin'

And of course
there's a soul
could it be I?
Dancin' that old soft shoe
on top of that hill
a moment's delighting
in a full moon's night sky a risin'...
Sjr1000 Jun 2014
Access to excess
holds you tight
in its vice.

It starts off
it always feels so right
filled with promise and abundance
walking into that casino
loaded with cash
scoring the bag at Christine's
weekly motel
one more dab will do you.
She knocks on your door
and only wants you
the night is filled with promises too.

Is this any different
then gluttonous
billionaires hoarding what they can
it's never enough
while the rest of us drown.

The waiting, waiting, waiting
for it to come through
there's that too.

Access to excess
has this advice:
"I'll deal with it later"
and
"One more time. "

Drip, drip, drip
blood
triggered rush
images and cravings
euphoric memories
kaleidoscope
in
one body rush
after another
until there is no more living
in
your own skin.

Rubbing your self raw
to get back to that moment
when you first walked in
when abundance
was real
and
access to excess
was all you could feel.
What a moment of exhilaration.

Of course there are these bonuses too
ending up
with total deprivation
"incomprehensible
demoralization"

Locked in a porta-*****
with a guy and a pipe
out of money
out of time
out of consciousness

Access to excess
what are we gonna do
now.
  Jun 2014 Sjr1000
Nat Lipstadt
Lord:

no bequest requested.
no grant, no teach,
no need or greed asked
just a hey listen up,
if your attention is elsewhere

this is an
all-on-my-own
prayer that
my eyes only utter,
my tongue,
self-silenced,
can only watch
and must approve

in fact,
this is more
of a post
than a prayer,
updating you
on the state
of what we Earth temporaries
call the heart, mind, soul
and even our,
your-designed
crafted carrier,
my body

Mine enemies call me
cursed, embittered,
they are right - but fools,
they are
so much more than wrong,
for in this they err grievous,
for they cannot see their own
bile provisioning their end

ask for no interference
from the sidelines
neither from the
sapphire mother sky
that raised me up gloriously
this morning

nor the emerald earth
that this day
both gives and gets
common bounty
gives me sustenance,
as much spiritual
as grained cereal delights

lest you think this
just one more
me-centric rants,
let us recall this prayer,
is his very own,
prayer of gratitude

woman's head
rests on my chest,
her blonde highlights,
highlight our bed
and our
life

take and tuck her tresses
from eyes and forehead,
gentle them into place,
behind her ear,
and my hand journeys on
to the skin,
flesh of her backbone,
where my fingers
spread wide,
five messengers unique,
advising all of the 120 provinces of her
heart, mind, soul and body,
she is my beloved,
and I pray,
I am hers

learning still to
live with my means,
such as they are,
sometime mean,
sometimes extraordinaire

even this skill,
to express

is a gratitude
that though
comes and goes
like summer breezes
that as now we pray,
cools my AM coffee
while studying the
patterned mystery
of the bay's
Ave Maria waves
from that
dock-by-his-name

where my heart, mind, soul
drink wet inspiration
from the still-oak-tree'd-strong-surfaced waters,
the blue glue of
our common delighted,
uncommon existence

this skill,
at this moment mine,
to share and
not to keep,
for have I not,
been blessed,
by comrades-in-arms
that kneel beside me,
asking, imploring
to be stronger yet,
for their sakes,
for them!
I pray for
best they-can-muster
sustenance of peace
of heart, mind, soul
and body

here now,
my shills,
my failing skills
cannot help express
in new ways,
a gratitude
that has a shapeless shape,
no measurement app enabled
for their comfort,
our comfort,
best grasped as
an unbounded divinity,
how so I wish I could pray for them better


focus this prayer
on the good ones,
who so greatly honor us
with a greater-than-a-creator,
gift glorious of
friendship

this walnut crack'd shell,
this container ship of
heart, mind, soul,
here there,
a few leaks sprung,
no nicotine patches
to cover

this dented car,
this dented body,
new dent every day
from only-you-know-where
still gets me there,

but
other than taking care better,
it plods along and houses
the rearrangement of this prayer's words,
and that is what is called
plenty good enough,
self-sufficient

prayers that are too long
go to the back of line,
so here we be,
but here we do not wait!


for prayers of gratitude
are instantaneous fulfilled,
and thus granted even before
they are completed
the love I feel for all of the people, friends and poets in my life that give me
their best, their perspective...they know who they are..
7:32am on the dock by the bay, another blessing for which I don't have the words but keep on trying...they are..see below...
PostScript -  the pleasure of your affection for this writ, palpable and heart pounding but it only reflects the spirit that working wordsmiths share in loving camaraderie so deep in the hidden roots of this place. For which I swear I will never to cease to write upon this favorite optic topic a loving challenge...very humbly do I thank you
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