Father

Hello, my son, how have you been?

The man before me used to be ten.

Sit on my lap to catch up on years;

I’ll wash away fears with childhood tears.

When you were a boy you’d childly pout,

And I’d be there to help you out.

But time we lost and memories I saved;

Half your height now I saw you wave.

Goodbye to the boy tying his shoes,

Replaced by a stranger watching the news.

A new son all over, the same by name,

With innocence lost to the grown up game.

Ashes to ashes and bike to car,

Though you’re here it’s still too far.

You’re always my son, flesh and bone,

And seconds from now you’ll have your own.

---

 The above was my first "serious" attempt at poetry around the age of 16.

Skip and Dance Along the Way

There once was a man

named Justin

who’d for some time

been accustomed

to scaring his friends

to their wits’ ends

for all the rules

he’d bend.

He told them

don’t worry

I’m not in

a hurry

to soil my ways

with a bury.

You might be displeased

with free spirit disease

but we always arrive there

with cheese.

When Pearls Collide

Salt on quiet midnight;

Pepper, buzzing white;

They meet on marble floors

And dance away the bores.

One cannot tolerate

Summer any more;

The other shivers deep

Inside its very core.

Here at school, they

Have two choices:

Exchange their gifts in kind

Or suffer consequences.

For pan too red to clean,

Meat too frost to thaw;

They need each other's glean

To make it past the slaw.

Two Pearls

Pepper splashed

Across paper;

Dark silhouette,

World too hot and bright.

Salt spilled

Upon asphalt;

Shining star,

Cool blanketed night.

I'm waiting for the night to fall

I know that it will save us all

When everything's dark

Keeps us from the stark reality

I'm waiting for the night to fall

When everything is bearable

And there in the still

All that you feel

Is tranquility

There is a star in the sky

Guiding my way with its light

And in the glow of the moon

Know my deliverance will come soon

There is a sound in the calm

Someone is coming to harm

I press my hands to my ears

It's easier here just to forget fear

And when I squinted

The world seemed rose-tinted

And angels appeared to descend

To my surprise

With half-closed eyes

Things looked even better

Than when they were opened

Been waiting for the night to fall

Now everything is bearable

And here in the still

All that you hear

Is tranquility

I'm waiting for the night to fall

I know that it will save us all

When everything's dark

Keeps us from the stark reality

I'm waiting for the night to fall

When everything is bearable

And there in the still

All that you feel

Is tranquility

There is a star in the sky

Guiding my way with its light

And in the glow of the moon

Know my deliverance will come soon

There is a sound in the calm

Someone is coming to harm

I press my hands to my ears

It's easier here just to forget fear

And when I squinted

The world seemed rose-tinted

And angels appeared to descend

To my surprise

With half-closed eyes

Things looked even better

Than when they were opened

Been waiting for the night to fall

Now everything is bearable

And here in the still

All that you hear

Is tranquility

Racy Love Poem

Those living in glass houses

Shouldn’t always run degausses

To protect them from the stones

Thrown by all the queen’s drones.

Those who wear no clothing

Continuously exposing

The err in those indicting

What they themselves inciting.

Truth is, truth does hurt,

Which is why we all avert

To deluded un-acknowledgement

And disguise inflicted toxicant.

Instead let’s all embrace,

Yes, an orgy, not a race!

For love and peace far beats,

What fear and hate defeats.

Counteract

The boxer nagged

To the punching bag,

"Why do you swing

Back with such sting"?

The bag replied,

"Sir, at ringside

You threw blows at me,

And quite beastly".

"It's only natural

That I'm reciprocal.

So I'm confused

Why it is

You accuse".

Wolves

Not always, but far too often,

Morality is married to hate.

Goodness is a Spirit,

Not a mandate.

The Potter

They say the potter does not

Form clay into art, but rather

Asks the clay what it

Was meant to be and

Merely helps it get there.

The Blacksmith

The blacksmith tempers and

Hammers repeatedly to

Form his creation, with

Out ever asking what

It wants to be.

The sword quietly,

In the middle of the night,

Each and every,

Recasts itself as the plowshare,

And undergoes the same

Day after day

Until steel gives way and

Fails to hold form.

Counter

When will you learn

Control will spurn

The tighter the grip

The more they flip

The more you tease

The faster they flee

Disguised demise that

You devised

Baptized allies who

Despise chastise;

So unwise

When will you learn

Love

To the Editors Go the Spoils

Who gets to decide

How Good is defined?

How can adults

Inform children

What purity is?

---

 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it (John 1:5)

On Deer and Mice

Is a deer a mouse

Or a mouse a deer?

It depends on who

You’re asking.

1,000

Even if I had all the power in the universe and could choose anyone I desired...

Soul Mate

He wanted nothing else but for her to be happy, even if that meant letting her go, if that's what she wanted.  Next to that, if possible, he wished to create happiness with her.

He saw a sadness in her that he identified with, and found great satisfaction in providing her protection and comfort.  He wanted to heal her, but may have first done harm that he greatly regretted.

He was fascinated with everything about her.  She was complex:  feminine and sweet and intelligent and creative and empathetic and compassionate and generous and cunning and alluring and unabashedly fun.  She wasn't standard society fit, just as he also was not.  Her song, her life vibration; it was melody to his soul ears and harmonious with his spirit.  She was his best friend.

He accepted and appreciated her for exactly who she was.  She was the one person who could never hurt him, ever.  No matter what she did, he always loved her and accepted her as-is.

In a life full of burns and scars and betrayal and abandonment, she was a bright star to him.  She made him happy.  And she knew exactly how to.

They liked to talk news and politics and philosophy and metaphysics and spirituality together; to visit coffee shops and try a variety of foods and regional events together; to travel together; build a family, a future together; and dream together.

They were going to tour the stars together.

He wasn't quite sure what happened.  His head was still reeling, ringing, concussed.  There were stories.  None of them quite made sense.  They were force Fed to him anyway.

His heart was still squeezed dry like a raisin scorched in the parched summer heat from everything that had transpired, but he was desperately trying to pump life back into it.  He would be damned if he allowed the people who detonated his life to fill the vacuum they created with the structures they wanted.

He still wanted her--the whole, real, complete her--despite everything, if she honestly, sincerely, wanted him too.

He wanted nothing else but for her to be happy, even if that meant letting her go, if that's what she wanted.  Next to that, if possible, he wished to create happiness with her.

If he couldn't, if she wouldn't, then maybe someone else out there could look deep within his soul, and see what magic could be conjured, what spells there were waiting, and could appreciate him for exactly who he was, and want to make worlds together.

Uniquely You

I like the geeks, nerds, dorks,

goofs, oddballs, weirdos,

eccentrics, bohemians,

queers, kinks, and kooks.

We are all brilliantly unique;

reveal your quirks with love and abandon.

Shine unabashedly in the cold, dark world

That would rather snuff out the light,

being only prisoners of their own fear.