Today I cannot write a poem
The words they just won’t come
I’m eager to post on the board
And I’m feeling really dumb

If words don’t flow, then a poet I ain’t
Trying hard to find some words
That flow in line and keep a beat
But mine just sound like turds

So maybe I should stay away
From poetry and  prose
And keep my thoughts just deep inside
And let them take a doze

See what I mean, I just can’t write
A poem worthy of beans
I think I’ll hide and stay inside
I’ll hide by any means

A poet I’m not, as you can see
My words are kind of jumpy
I’ll just look out the window today
And just allow feelings of grumpy

Our life
Is about stories
The ones we make
As we are living
Our lives

The stories that take us
From childhood
To maturity
And back
Into childhood

The stories that define
Who we are
And who we think
We should be

Our stories
Our lives
Our downfall
Because
We believe them

A time and space where the angels dwell
And guide us into a place of non-attainment
We look at the stars, and count their beauty
In their light
And, we wonder how we ever allowed their beauty
To reach beyond our touch

And, isn’t love like those stars that we cannot reach?
We try so hard to understand with our minds and bodies
Truly forgetting that we are created in love, exist in love, and are
Total love

We focus on attachment to body and mind
And forget the soul of antiquity
That houses the God
Of our creation

Love is but a bubble of existence
That reaches out to hold and protect us
As in the Mother’s womb
Where we can truly be
Who we are meant to

Love is that catch phrase
That tells us that we are someone
And belong
To another being of existence
If not..to ourselves

The truth is..that we are not
If we have not another
And we can search outside from here to eternity
And only find that true love
Within ourselves

Love…magic…wholeness of existence
Within and without
From beginning to end
And we are
One.

Sometimes
Life just feels like
Too much
Like people everywhere
Aren’t conscious
Of Truth
And they hurry, scurry around
Without making any sense
Of life
Don’t people want to know
What life is all about
Or is it better that they live
In total chaos
Moving moment by moment
Without thought
Without conscience
Without knowing
Why

I sit and wait for the phone to ring
For an email to appear
For someone to show
That they care
To remind me
That I am still alive
And still play a role
In this life
A purpose
A reason for being
Why doesn’t the phone ring?

I look in the mirror and what do I see?
Just another face looking out at me
Do you have something to tell me, do I have a right to know?
Is it something I remember, say it isn’t so?!
I want to remember and I want to forget
I want to pretend it is all in my head
And I have to take things one step at a time
And I have to remember that the thoughts intertwine
Some of the memories belong to the past
And some are the products of life ever last
I want to pretend and make it go far away
The memories come back and insist that I stay
So I cover my ears and my eyes and my face
And the sounds continue from a distant place
I see the horror of times long forgotten
And I wash it away like I’m stuffed up with cotton
With a smile like it never happened although I know it is so
I prefer the hidden tunnel, so far away I now go.

Today’s the day
I write a poem
That has meaning
That reaches hearts
That states a deep message
That touches
People

Today’s the day
I write a poem
That helps others to know
The wisdom
Of thoughts
Of  voice
Of experiences
Of life

Today’s the day
And I hope
You will continue
Reading