How do I do this*
How do I comfort and console
a dear friend suffering
from "the pangs of despised love"
When I know not how to heal myself

The problem is
I know not how to heal myself
Thus should I stumble to find the words
that will bandage the pain
Or silently listen
with open arms

And Hope
the presence of another
who knows those pangs
Will hold

Disconnected, alienated
uncomprehended, bended
sounds fill
push eardrums, runs,
aural chaos, linguistic pathos
confusion, fusion, apprehension
verbal exhaustion rules
grooves,
governs this immigrant’s life. Five years of coping
scoping, hoping, scraping, trying
to get ahead, get with it, get it on,
fit in. Find that
niche, riche, find that place,
misplaced, fast
pace, foundering, mapless,
GPSless, guideless,
uncomprehended, bended,
alienated, disconnected.

The child trapped within me, wonders
She still does…her heart filled with curiosities about the world around her
She still loves the smell of concrete after it rains
The feeling of velvet, the sound of Velcro as it detach itself
She is still intrigued about the intricate bends on an elderly face
And finds herself dancing among strangers to the tunes on her head
She still likes to feel the cold floor under her naked feet
…and at times she allows a smile without reason to fly away

The child trapped within me, still sings the songs she learned decades ago
When innocence couldn't make sense out of the corrupted lyrics
…she dares to invade my brain in search of herself
and  tries,oh how she tries to take ownership of absent things, that no longer belong to her

The child within me doesn't understand

It is time to disappear
Lost among the day to day
She cannot add the weight on the shoulders
the creaking of the joints, the sleepless night of a busy head
the tired feet
rhythm-less arms that forgot how to fly, and now…now can only float guideless
among thousands of face, hitting the shore
lingering in an ocean of responsibilities
drowning, my child, refuses to sink and resurfaces
intrigued by a reflection of intricate lines

Lost, I find her
Hidden deep inside, she escapes at times
To remind me of what life ought to be,
…afraid my child, hides again.

A Field Guide to Awkward Silences
The Norton Field Guide to Writing with Readings
A Field Guide to Secure Wi-Fi
A Field Guide to Asset Forfeiture
A Field Guide to “Fake News”
A Field Guide to Lies
A Field Guide to Antibiotic Stewardship in Outpatient Settings
A Field Guide to the Italian New Right
A Field Guide to Getting Lost
A Field Guide to Ripple Effects Mapping
A Field Guide to ****** and Fly Fishing
A Field Guide to Jerks at Work
A Field Guide to Bad Faith Arguments

And so it field guides, and so it field guides
As dear old Kurt Vonnegut did not say
And what field is the writer talking about?
About the farmer outstanding in his field?

Alas there is no field guide to writing
A title blessedly free of field guide
Which would be a feel-good fieldless guideless
For which humanity would be grateful

About as original as Keep Calm
Keep Calm and Say Something Original
Let the last field guide be Keep Calm about
A Field Guide to Burying Tired Cliches’

The Masquerade Man

He lives, Laughs, & Loves like the thunderous seas, but sometimes it's not quite enough. Yearning for more,  Guidelessly He roams to no avail. In search for the things that make him feel alive. Yet He fails to see He is ensnared in His own lies. Bounded by the reckless & ruthless flames of influence, He is constantly molded into shells of His older self. Day by Day He awakes with a Mind manifested by false pretense. He realizes new ways to Equalize with His surroundings are becoming as Unbearable as Raging Hurricanes Decimating his Soul. So He shoots for the Stars, Aiming to recapture His grace. And to no Avail, He continues to Roam guideless like the weaping winds hoping to one day Find His place.

And now begins
The guideless era
As my guide has departed Terra,
Gone, but surely not forgotten,
He's left...
His form is pale and rotten.
Slack jaw
Reveals the row of teeth
     A row above
          A row beneath
I perceive slight movement in his chest,
But a touch confirms
He's now at rest
His nostrils drawn
His ankles crossed
His hand is limp
And now the cost of sinful man
...is paid in full for this fond friend,
There's no remaining time to spend
At leisure in his kingly presence,
But he's left behind his essence,
And from him we all have gained
A starting wisdom, we were trained
To laugh and cry and live and pray,
To seek truth,
                  to love,
                            and point the way.

Now to Him who is abundantly able,
Receive this servant at your table
Dress him in your softest gowns,
Kingly colors, shining crowns,
With a smile upon his face,
Doused with your amazing grace!