Creative WritingThe Waving Man Sometimes I care so much that I don't want to care anymore at
all That chain lays heavy across my back Sometimes I think those cold links keep me
warm When they really just keep me down How I'd like to trade it all in for a a big breath of freedom
and sunshine Like the waving man so big - Oh how he smiles, it hurts my
face and it hurts my heart just to look at
him... But I always wave and I think ... someday I'll wear that
fucking smile too Well the bright side is that yesterday it made me sad and
today it just pisses me off ***note: I just learned that the man this poem was written
about passed away sometime in 2010 or 2011. He was (I think) a Vietnam
vet, and excentric who walked all over town, waving to literally every car
that passed him. Grease It gives me peace, such self sympathy to say twas them, But I remember now Long ago and so often ... how I kept
choosing And every single time I said "there, that will show
them'" until one day I believed it and now... One eye on the road, one on the dusty map in my trembling
hand I work my way back, stopping at that
diner You know the one ... you've seen it in the movies with
the buzzing,
flickering "N" ... And I stop and dine on doubt and self
righteousness But it's cold, and it's getting old, by the side of the
road so onward and upward, maybe I've made my last
stop (about moving from blaming external circumstances to taking
100% power for one's life) Forests and Trees The wind blows so that I cannot hear my thoughts of the wind.
The Children Know We crucify them like Christ for showing us what's true At some point they stop showing us and then of course, we're all lost scurrying, looking for the profound in our dayplanners and web banners crucifying ourselves quietly for crucifying them so loudly and thinking maybe, just maybe we were right ... our backs can only take so much you know but the spirit shines, the sands of time do little to assuage the guilt we hide so maybe down the line, all down the
line we start being brave little buckaroos we take a peek, hold our breath face the awful death of the ego large and then ... we'll know. Enlightenment Party Show me (But I'm scared) Will you help me? Can I come back if I want? Show me (I've already heard the music) And laughter ... curiously no tears some confetti flew through the door ... the minute it was cracked and was left as a bread crumb trail or perhaps ... a warning so you see ... I've almost seen so now I must be will you show me? (And I'm scared) The innocent cannot cry tears of joy The innocent cannot cry tears of joy There is no weight from which these plump droplets give
respite their hearts are still light their souls hum and sing, the sight-sound weaving like fine,
blazing pastel threads with the buzzing of the bees, and the impish laughter of the wind sneaking through the trees that stand as watchful
parents The innocent simply cannot cry tears of
joy the ones that take us by surprise with their delicious,
painful bite and so beautifully and painfully squeeze the poison of
accumulated un truths from our soul. Oh, if we could only be prepare one could guard against this
heinous loss of control and keep grip of our burden. The we could shed our joy at a more appropriate time ... and
would we ever choose to? The innocent cannot cry tears of joy because they live in the
middle of the surprise. The relentless, too bright truth of who we are that we begin
to bury and deny with our loss of innocence The Teacher We could not have grown so far, so fast if God had not seen
fit to send us our best teachers. They show us patience and rescue us from the past and rein us
in from these glossy futures to sit quietly in their classrooms. The plaque on the desk says "The present moment is here and
NOW". They teach forgiveness with warm snuggles, often right after
we've spoken more sharply than we would've liked. They reward my victories and failures equally and yet
... this makes us want to be more ... They test our resolve as the whimpers and whines tear through
our nerves like a new puppy that's worn out it's playful
welcome And their students get a gold star only when they say "talk in
a grown up voice". They do all this, and without benefit of advanced degrees,
PDAs, or even ascension past the 4 foot mark ... I have only been with my teacher a few years, and most of
those I did not even know that she was ... who she was
... so it is an honor and treat to be amongst some advanced
students, and their teachers messianic. Today the only items on our agenda are love and
fun, Class dismissed. I leapt from my chair Looks aren't deceiving It's the eyes we're looking through Have you ever been sitting there and you hear a voice It has the answer and your spine ... it tingles with excitement and a dash of
fear You think about life and what it could
mean why we do the dance we do you know the answer in that moment that all is well you're gonna be ok, kid. you can't tell
anyone else because you're not sure you believe it yourself quite
yet yet ... there it is you can't think about it, really, it's like cigarette smoke
lingering in the air The moment you turn to look, your body moves, makes a breeze
and disturbs it
and it's no longer quite what it was when you first saw
it logic returns, rushes in, and it all comes back into
perspective, and the moment, once again, becomes
ordinary Author's Note: This poem will expand as time goes by. You see, I've actually
seen it all, every damned blessed bit of it. I'll be sitting in my chair,
and maybe a bit of the ol' "fear of death" will creep in, one thought
leads to another, and then suddenly the logic and truth of it all comes
rushing in, the history of our race, why there's animals and humans, and
disease, and people's motivations and it all comes together in I guess
what they call a "synergy", where the sum is SO MUCH more than the sum of
the parts, and suddenly I
feel and know beyond reason that all is well and that there is really no
death and that this world is so minor in it's entirety that the angels
don't come down because we'll all know and laugh soon enough. I never talk of these moments
because there just aren't words. There just arent' words.
On paying our dues I think it benefits us in some way to feel at least some of
the sting of the razor wire as we make our final slide over and down, and
fall, battered and breathless, toward our destination. Our "paying of dues," if you
will. Don't get me wrong; I'm
a firm example of having a hundred bucks worth of life for only
19.95. My Dad taught me to
ignore the usual "work hard, save and retire" paradigm (if not with his
words, then his actions) in favor of using a little imagination. but, I think we like a little
"rough n' tumble" on the way there.
It satisfies our ravenous, restless egos that we've "earned" what
we got. That we "deserve it," having paid our proverbial dues, pound of
flesh, blood, sweat, tears--ah, smell the glory! It's when we forget that it's all an illusion and, paying
little attention, cause ourselves to be entangled and mauled by that same
razor wire instead of smartly stung.
How deep do some of these choices run? How much of our pain and perceived
failure and desperation is simply the result of misunderstanding a choice
that we have made ourselves; the choice to pay the piper in exchange for
piece of worldly contrast?
What power and light might come as our awareness expands and one
discovers deeper and deeper levels of choice ... Situations and conditions
we previously thought the ravages of fate--random occurrences of just
plain luck? Comments Most of these poems came in 1995 during some big changes in my life, some good, some bad, as a result of my transformation
from a conservative, uptight married man to a free, yet-to-grow-up boy
ready to suck up whatever the world had to offer. I was passionate, I felt
like the world was just out there for the taking. Some of these were written about a
girl named Amy, but it wasn't really her I was writing about but the
passion, the hunt, desire, all the things that make us alive and well and
reach for more, even when more might drown us. Any cute blonde ... or brunette
... would've done fine as my muse at the time. Ode to Thoreau 1997 9-26-95 Past fears have restrained me .. but no longer. I will seize the day, savor the
hour and sing with every minute. I will look for pleasure and accept my
pain restless, unresolved, unrestrained My eye happens upon you and my nostrils
flare Like the thoroughbred before the gate is
dropped She walks with purpose, not a gleam of doubt in her
eye Happy within herself until her heart turns west. There she finds in another, the
questions in her soul. The
missing links in her chain of existence. Maybe I will try to forge the iron she craves, and change the
rhythm of a heart that beats ... for someone else. Unbridled 9-26-05 Like a newfound toy, collecting dust in a forgotten
attic. Memories of a youth in distress... forlorn look ... your listless land-locked love descends upon
me. Filtered through blazing brown eyes, I captured your scent and now I
must pursue Relishing the risk ... realizing full-well ... you know my
path. I scream my SOS, but alas, no ships pass through here. The waters are rough and the sea
cold. Harpies and rip tides
await the careless sailor who selfishly searches for treasure beneath the
waves. If you're there, hiding in the shadows you've cast, step into
the searchlight of my eyes and risk capture. For tonight .. is the night we awaken Untitled 10-2-95 (written during a turning point in my life, in observation of the "night
crowd", living the night life where life is a bit more dangerous, but
there's more passion to feed one's love of the
blues) From my vista, her form unfolds... Before ... the valley was unbeknownst to my eyes ... a
forbidden place where the flames leapt and misery
abounded. Now my heart descends there ... For the garden, though not stony like most
... is dry. The water is sweeter in the valley, nourishing ...
narcissistic ... nectar And besides, my guitar likes it there. Tennis in the rain
10-4-95 Yeah, my serve was sloppy, like a drunken "has-been" semi pro
who hasn't stepped onto the court in a decade of decades. But
.. I still managed to get the ball over the net! It landed,
bounced and lay still at your feet. You made no motion to return - your steely glance across the
net said one thing.
No. Soon ... the rains will come ... and the ball will float from
your court to the next ... forever. Grateful Blues 10-4-95 As I contemplate the blues rolling from the box, a feeling of
gratitude sweeps o'er my heart, releasing - momentarily - the weight of my
sorrow I am grateful because now I know ... I'm not the only one to feel this way. To wonder where I'll go - If I'm worth my weight in common
dirt - to look for direction when my path seems directionless.
To seek quality - in a low quality world - to want love ...
when love doesn't want me. To
share my soul with someone who won't share theirs - to cry alone
... Each night with no one to dry my tears and tell me the world's
all right. I will play the blues now ... so that someone else out there
will know ... and be grateful Secrets 10-17-95 Like an ancient sentry ... she sat and
watched. Gazing from her stone perch - searching with seraphic sizzling
eyes We sat talking with each other while the white angel / devil
enriched our conversation. Oblivious to our observer, we engaged in carnal plans, future
phallic fulfillment. When our visitor arrived, observing us close ... with faraway
eyes, her answers seemingly honest, yet I sensed a mystery beneath her
blonde beginnings. When she's full of her secret, she'll come to me and maybe ...
we'll both site on our sentry rock and watch the world go
by Untitled - 1996? About a week I had in Key wests.
Her smile said... unmistakably, hello! Making my way quickly
through the haze, I came to her and tried to pretend indifference, but ...
I'm not much of a pretender.
Her gaze ... grabbed me.
My suave alter ego came forth, knowing somehow that injury would
pass him by on this night in the tropics. We explored each other's depths -
briefly, and parted. As I knew, My heart ached upon her departure. Venturing beyond my love
limitations, holding you, knowing you, like a fiery maple in October. There was no way to reserve this
moment, except the flash of a camera and the written word. So much pleasure and impending pain ... packed into so few
moments. Oh .. to follow you
... so much left to tell. Like an unfinished song, in the whirlwind of our
wanton weekend, many words fail to reach you ... or me. My heart overflowed on that day. And the rain came. Tracing random
paths in my saddened face.
Alone .. fighting ... trying to forget their faces .. My loving cup
too full, the excess spilling down my cheeks. Can't you see the tears? Won't you
kiss them away, kiss away.
Looking for another to take my pain away. I guess I'm just not that kinda'
boy. My neurons burn with
their memories. I want to
find them - walk through their forests, climb their walls and descend
their slopes New Road 7-16-97 - I believe this was a "post recovery" song, about coming out
of the ashes out of bankruptcy both financial and spiritual and with
little to my name, just feeling the raw potential of my
life. Show me what hurts ... help me fix it. show me the love ... help me live it. from all directions ... I know not
where... I must find light ... or live in despair Why do I run ... when angels call my
name? I listen - then walk away just the same. deeper and deeper - I need a keeper Ignite ... inside ... and awaken the
sleeper Shattered - fogged in - the plane is
grounded Lost forever? I find that unfounded I sit and watch the turbulent river. knowing the possibilities - I begin to
quiver Untitled - date unknown (between 95 and 97)
Just cause it only lasts the night, don't make it cheap. We can hold each other as we
sleep. Don't listen to
the wall, it can't see. The
way we look at each other, the way we can be. You'll know how you really feel, how do you feel when the sun
comes up? Warmth against your face, against your heart, driving out the
cold. Putting a spark
in your eye, a spark in your soul.
Awaken, warm embraces.
Hot breath against your neck.
Incense and tobacco memories linger in my nostrils. Your perfume fades but the memory
floods my senses. My heart
filled with pain as I realize you now must go. And I, the restless heart, must
continue my search |