Often, these dreams pierce the veil,
between sadness and bliss.
bliss is defenseless
I wake up cold
My steps feel the weight of the stone floor
out to the window, my dreams take me…
Even awake, dreams command my vision.
The world is blind to me and I am blind to the world.
They do not bear my dreams and I do not know their torment.
If they knew my dreams,
they would carry me forward
hands on my hand
we move the bricks together
sight for sight
blindness for blindness
dreams for truth
The strange warmth of fellowship fades in loneliness,
as if it were antidote… or poison.
Still, the memories linger
yearning to blaze
but they cannot provide warmth
for they are dreams
and fires must feed on flesh.
The armies continue to pour
from somberness into bliss
the fires wink out softly
my eyes dull; my dreams fade.
And for once, I see what they all saw…
I feel as if
I've acquired all the knowledge
I'm ever gonna' acquire.
What I need to do now
Is try to learn how to cope
With living in a Society
Where the Forces of Economics
Have gone Batshit Crazy.
sparking up a joint i look out at the field where i spent my summers as a child
the fence where i tore my hand on the barbed wire
the greenhouse with the window
still broken from the baseball thrown a little too hard
it all seems so far away
as if it were from another life
and in a way
no longer am i a child
awaiting recess and nap time
now i await my nightly smoke and another day of being heartbroke
Chemistry is an atomic combustion.
You and I, are either collided
Like the “big bang theory”
and created an aura vibration
Our chemistry just died
Right from the start
Without an explosion.
How seriously are you gonna' take life, my friend
As you a mature.
You designed your marriage carefully
And filled it in with colorful sands
Just as Tibetan Buddhist Monks do
With their Sand Mandalas,
But when the project lost it's meaning,
You blew the sands into the wind.
Your wife has been replaced by Santa Muerte,
Unlike with your wife,
The thrill is never gone with her.
As you age ,
And lose your respect for conventional values,
You fall more and more deeply into lust
With this Specter.
I opened my box,
Turned the knob,
Hand and feet on position
And danced to the music.
Sometimes, the music is joyous.
Sometimes, it is melancholic.
I am waiting for the day
When I don't have to turn the knob
To hear music.
And I am waiting for the day
I finally outgrow my enclosure.
I saw someone fall in love again.
Said his heart danced
to a different beats-per-minute than before.
It smelled of pressed jasmine and maturity
compared to cotton candy kisses and butterfly wings.
I asked why does he keep comparing?
The first love's immaturity is a gate
To the next one's finesse.
I am advanced in years
but living many years
does not make me either wise or mature
does not make me advanced
as a person, as a man.
I have known some old fools
and in some ways
(I hate to say it)
sometimes I am one.
I would rather escape
(and I can think of so many ways to do so)
than to live in pain
(my own or someone else’s)
but that is what life is.
Yes, it is true:
Life IS difficult.
Accepting that is one of the hardest things to do.
But it is what real maturity is.
Being down from hurt, pain, and wounds
and just standing up and walking anyway.
I see bumper stickers and signs that say:
The people who I know
who are the walking wounded
are the beautiful people.
They carry their pain with a crooked, sad smile
as if to say:
"Yes, life is a bitch,
but here I am walking through it.
Not so much getting over it
as getting through it.
And Baby, here I am, I am getting through it.
I’m still standing.
I might be limping,
but by God, I’m walking.
I’m walking into today and tomorrow.
And that’s something."
I’ve heard it said:
“Faith is simply to trust the real
and to trust that God is found within it.”
When I have this kind of faith
I’m being mature.
I’d rather be advanced in that way
than to simply be advanced in years.
“Maturity,” Copyright © 2017 by Glenn Currier