Unattainable
Goals that ask softly for me
To reach skyward, home.

People’s feet are hurting,
dresses and shoes are a size smaller than theirs.
They’re taking chances, and going to dances
and the truer selves are calling for help.

They’re dressed in their nicest,
their inner screams are the quietest.
Under the gleaming smiles,
their broken, imperfect selves are quietly calling for help.

The smoothest white marble floor lies,
in the reflection they seem to be perfect
while they’re numb inside.
Living corpses are calling for help.

They’re breathing slowly,
to cope with the swift dancing.
The masses are strategizing and scheming
on how not to call for help.

All is calm and feelings are suppressed.
Suddenly!
Chandeliers are falling,
glass is on the dance floor
and hoofers are calling for help.

Beware!

I am losing myself to art

Spilling the chaos on the canvas

I may not remain a whole

For I maybe draped in a hand skill

Stroked with animal hair

Lost in the heat of colors

Seized in an imaginative capture

Transfixed in time

The remnants hard to characterize

Mutilated for an inventive victory

Woven in a verse of triumph

Sometimes discreet in absurdity

Sometimes molested in modernity

I may not remain a whole

Dashes may surface

In exhibits,

It may surround your gaze

Exist as a description

Limited just as a name.

Death is coming out of me
Every memory of pain and mourning

I’m bursting with light

Despite the dark I’ll come forth with
Roaring hope and fulfilled longing

3/20/2020

One against the world.
Fighting your change.
Would anyone care if you made it?
Wouldn’t they rather you fail?
Oh, they’d feel better about themselves.

One against yourself.
Fighting His change.
Would you care to let go?
Who are you even working for?
Your progress has to be between you and God.

One against your past.
Fighting your change.
Would it make a difference,
If you turned the boat around?
Could you even find your way back?

One against emotions.
Fighting their change.
Doesn’t the anger feel good,
When it wrecks your life?
Don’t you think you should hate hate?

One against a soul.
Fighting the change.
They need you, you know.
You aren’t what you’re meant to be,
It’s about time you changed course.

You’re almost ready,
So I’ll give you more time,
But I can’t promise it’ll last forever…

’Ego sum hic.’

Calling to the dawn,
Baying at the moon,
Petitioning the horizon,
Summoning the faithful;

The yearning indefinite,
In pursuit of an enduring affirmative;
An echo searching for its source
In the boundless beyond.

’Ibi tu es, tu es, tu es, tu es...‘