Each day I pray for an ear that will hear
above all the noise clearly His voice.
For while sometimes it's best to be serving with zest,
sometimes it's better to sit for a breather
and wait in his presence and enjoy this true essence
of sitting and being before going and doing.
So while sometimes I'll Martha I know that I'd rather
spend time being Mary, in less of a hurry,
for there at his feet I'll be more complete
and hear his clear voice above all the noise.

Joseph is a bit of a dreamer,
you might say a wayward thinker,
but that's not the lot
of all that's he's got: -
He's the son of the great Creator.

So dreams wake up as passions,
passions bear fruit in actions
and soon you see
what only he dreamed:
God-made-man creations.

Is a ‘reaction’
an initial impulse to act
after an experience?
Do reactions
get us into trouble
when we act out the impulse
without first self-introspecting,
becoming aware of emotions and thoughts,
self-evaluating emotions and thoughts,
and self-correcting emotions and thoughts?
For example:

A toddler cries
then her mother slaps her hard
then regrets the slap
when her toddler cries more miserably.

A youth insults a man at a bar
then the man punches the youth hard
knocking him to the floor unconscious
struggling to breathe,
then the man regrets the punch
and regrets getting arrested even more.

Stemming from an old familiar place
I plead insanity but not my case,
with red tinted sunglasses covering my face,
failing at trying to hide my shame.
With an abundance of up but lacking down
I’ve searched every street within this town,
I’ll rediscover peace but forget my own name.
I really need it, I’ve got to treat it
again.

No one could survive this,
I’ve got no touch like Midas,
and those same demons are at my door,
the one’s who let themselves in before.
No one could survive this,
I’ve got no will to fight it.
Why waste the strength holding it at bay,
when I can mimic that strength another day, even for show.

Step into character and out of skin,
showcase on the nose but I can’t seem to win.
I have no interest in their flashy jackpot prize,
It’s lacking clear blue skies and her warm eyes,
but I’ll shake hands and force another empty grin.
I really need it, but it’s not greed
it’s pretend.

No one could survive this,
blatant weakness but I hide it,
I’m a lone black sheep among the cattle,
even Peter Pan despised his shadow.
No one could survive this,
a DNR with a revive list,
and no one wants to leave but they never stay,
there’s no direction but they continue on their way, where do they go?

Do you really need this,
I’m willing to bleed for bliss
and transcend.
Do you really need this,
how often will you read this
till you wend?
Do you really need this,
or do you just want to believe this
will end?

People will hurt you and then act like it was you who hurt them.

growing up in theater i often heard that all the world’s a stage

logically, i always knew what those words meant, it’s a simple statement after all

yet it took me 19 years and a post-breakup one night stand to actually experience my stage

i was an actress, holding in myself and expressing who my audience wanted me to be

my audience need not know my true intentions, only what needed to be portrayed

joy, pleasure, tears, and pain were the four acts and i glided gracefully

and on the quiet ride home i studied my cigarette, my tired mind convincing itself it was no more than a stage smoke you could buy at the theatrical shop in valley junction

and it hit me

all the world’s a stage and my play is a tragedy

oh love, just for the day
can we act the words in my poems into existence?
the sentences I write, would you please say?
could our lives become consistent?


© L.F.