Reroutes (1)

There was a time I meant to go
Another way. Another place
Was where I set out for, at first,
And though my long steps I retrace,
It’s hard to know where I went wrong,
A turn too early or too late —
But I guess where we’re destined for
Is really up
To fate.

And so I find myself aware
Of sloping hill and gleaming sea;
A world so different than the old
That seemed to mean so much to me,
It’s hard to know just what make
Of being free, yet being stuck —
But I guess how things come to be
Is really up
To luck.

I stand and watch the searching clouds
That move forever, restlessly;
I carry one old photograph
Of way back then, and you with me,
I bathe within the wonders here,
A type of yearning, walking trance —
But how or when our hearts move on
Is really up

To chance

Generations

“No one remembers the former generations, and even those yet to come will not be remembered by those who follow them.”

Part 1

Cruel laughter rings
Around a five-year-old boy

Look at the little baby!
He carries a teddy bear!

And tears appear in the eyes
Of the young, confused boy

And the toy bear

Part 2

She was a lithesome seventeeen
Wanting to leave girlhood behind;
He was so handsome, quiet, forceful
He filled her soul, her heart, her mind

Giving herself to adult pleasure
Finding too late the price of lust;
Violence breaking out in ruin
Having a baby, broken trust

Young single mom setting up a nursery
Worn teddy bear for the baby’s bed;
The only gift that his father left him
So many things must stay
Unsaid

Part 3

His mother died when he was only six
He had no father that he’d ever known
He set off with his grandmother to live
Some other place, with everything unknown

His only friend, a tattered sewn-up toy
The house smelled funny, all his tears were spent;
He hugged his only friend up to face
Just trying to recall
His mother’s scent

(..)

Prognostication

When you think you know the future,
Many strange things will you do;
When we’re right, we don’t think “lucky” —
That’s the human point of view.

Public lives are filled with hubris,
Most are not accountable,
For the world is asymmetric:
This seems insurmountable.

What was genius now is folly,
What was right’s been proven wrong —
Yet we think that we’re so different,
Like we knew it all along.

Those who can’t control their lives say
How the country should be run;
Promising a new tomorrow,
But when all is said, and done,

Billions upon billions of our
Choices make us what we are:
Termites on a tiny planet,
Circling a fading star.

Life: it is a vast unfolding.
Fate does not care how we feel —
Make the future that’s today, then:
It’s the only one

That’s real

from the threshing floor – 5

there is a place i cannot reach:
a far off land, that though i trudge,
recedes, like hope itself in time,
horizons daily i misjudge,

but carried on by ignorance,
i’ll wear by feet to blisters,
then fall into forgotten-ness
like aether, or

transistors

on the lee side

there’s little shelter to be found

once ship has left the port;

the elements will have their say

and nature make its sport —

 

for trouble, and adventure, both

can lead, or, devastate:

and sailors no more dodge the wind

than lovers hide

from fate

Air and Water

I was born of air and water
Thought and feeling
Breath and tears;

Not of soil, nor of fire:
Slowly yielding
Through the years

As I learned how I was destined:
Character is
Fate indeed —

I was born of air and water
Sky and bayou
All I need