Come with me, my friend, and see the storied hills:
For autumn’s full of love, and so are we,
We restless searchers as we wander on
Past strands of summer, cobwebs on our hearts.
In setting out, we come to know what’s setting in:
The furniture we’ve moved, the mental flummery
We use in place of seeing more, or differently,
When width, and height, and depth are what we need
To find our place. Let others bring their pretext,
And their subtext, and their fables, we
Must find our context in reality —
So let no voice escape your lips but yours.
The winter always comes, and yet
We feign surprise, as though
The dwindling of our stanzas
Is unique,
So come and see how autumn
On the hills of who you are
Speaks freedom, peace,
And love
To those who’ll hear
We See, And Yet We Miss
We see, and yet we miss, as we
Trudge onward, doing things we do,
The glories of a grocery store
Through eyes no longer
New
To share is human:
Security and Exchange
The experts tell us every day
We need a smarter planet,
As though, for all these sordid years,
Some other beings ran it —
Today’s land-barons own the cloud,
Their influence is everywhere:
Our brigands roam the highways, then,
Of coding, and of malware —
The p.r. people say we’re safe,
And issue corporate sureties,
While we bewildered peasants live
With cyber insecurities
That fold into our secret dreams;
We each, a Luddite hobbit —
We do not own who owns our land,
Or just who’s trying
To rob it
To share is human:
glamorizing fear
the image game:
we play it everywhere.
and this is not new,
though it may *feel* new.
but we’re creatures made of stories,
and little truth gets through
not delivered through
those vehicles.
through books and drama,
word and image,
glamorizing fear as though
we rule it instead of
the other way around
To share is human:
harvesting time
within the planet,
expectant,
our past is present —
moments’ seeds
turned to years of gold
in sunlight
but how carelessly
we sleep with
our own indolence
leading to
another kind of
harvesting
To share is human:
the illusion
how could he know —
that storm front of love in her
was always in her
and really independent of him?
cynics say,
“love is the illusion of togetherness”,
but that’s not true.
it’s the illusion of individuality
but autumn is real,
and feelings are real —
while memories are really
deceiving
To share is human:
Three Hours – 7 PM
YOU were the ground:
so happy, shoveling the sand;
so joyful, rolling in the grass --
soft and squishy, bare feet running,
the smell of flowers filling your nose, and
the earth itself filling your heart --
you were that ground.
YOU were the water:
lying on your back, arms spread wide,
held by the liquid embrace that cushioned you,
sound of the ocean breathing, as
the sun set on what was your tension --
ripples spreading from a black pond hidden
from the eyes of all but few --
you were that water.
YOU were the fire:
city lights ablaze, like the lights in your eyes --
hot the feeling, crowds in a frenzy,
inhaling excitement, exhaling the feeling
of bodies alive with the flames of desire,
two later, alone, in a tangle of burning,
and more, in the words you pour out in volcanoes --
you are that fire.
NOW become the wind:
let got of the past, and your ease, and your passion,
for opposites live in your very existence,
they're all of them you
yet they're none of them all --
there's more the moments that have been, there's those
you have yet to feel, like this one, like this one --
now become the sky, and the clouds, and the wind.
To share is human:
Three Hours – 3 PM
WHEN the rain goes by, the smell still hangs heavy, like an entrusted secret; sweet, like cracking voices still singing fresh where the polychrome bends YOU gave me a glimpse of your hidden heart: the clouds still passing, and the rain still falling, yet the grain still waving in your changing eyes MAGICAL, like the story you live in, mystical, like the respect we all deserve -- the rain will pass my friend, it will, and while the world's still big, it's no bigger than all that's still there for you to find
To share is human:
Three Hours – 8 AM
FEEL it now, feel it, breathe in, breathe out; The world knows your name, but not how to pronounce -- There was a day coming, it's here, it's here; And maybe there's more, now, than doubt and fear YOU gave up your heart, and you gave in to those who said, "all you will be is the path that you chose" -- But yesterday isn't in charge of today, and the popular roads aren't the last only way -- SO find yourself driving towards where you would be; Come out of the alleys of shorn misery, Go out to the country, fill up, and reach high: the meaning is yours, because you signify
