The Concept of Beauty

“I love the melody of people’s lives…”

I’ve struggled my whole life with the concept of beauty
Or its male equivalent
Because it seemed unfair that it didn’t apply to me

But I’m a sound-oriented person
So I gave myself up to beauty in music
And spoken words

Nobody who knows me in real life thinks of me as a poet
I am known as a pianist
And as a public speaker
Or even as a mathematician
Which is kind of ironic

I’ve almost always hated the way I look
But whether speaking or listening
I lose myself in the absorption or creation
Of words
The music and the flow of them

And when I’m out here browsing blogs
I love the melody of people’s lives
The harmony of their dreams
Even the discords of circumstance

Because beauty, to me
Is found in our striving
To be better

Not just in perfections, so-called
That we attain

But in the desire
To live better
To reach more

To bring order to our chaos

And to be the best versions of ourselves

As we were all meant to do

Aware

Half-frozen mud, cold bracing air
A wind that makes my neck aware
That leaves torn from the tree will die
These poor gray strays who tumble by

And like the ghostly light I seek
The morn recedes behind the line
Only of chance to risk a peek
At drifting lives
Like yours

And mine


 

(“Aware” – 11-19-2014)

Lightning On The Lake

There’s lightning on the lake tonight
The world is dark and wet
This house is full of memory
That I’d as soon forget

With loud crashes of violence
The sky attacks the earth
But can’t drive out the eidolons
To which my mind gives birth

This house protects me from the storm
The wind howls fruitlessly
There’s lightning on the lake tonight
And no one here
But me


 

(“Lightning On The Lake” – 8-17-2014)

Hole (An Autocorrect Poem)

Your presence gives me hole —
As though a week was lifted from my shoulder —
I kosher it’s just a trope,
The kind we entertain as we get okra —

You wear it like a diary
That sparkles in the sketch,
Inline to you for everything
And you donut ask why —

Your live, it gives me hope:
It’s like the kiss that signature Spring
The hole you place

In everything

Hallways : Luxury Hotel

How did I ever end up here?
It’s like a sort of fantasy –
And yet, these halls are real,
And this is happening to me

But sill, life’s downs and ups
They are but little understood:
And when I wasn’t looking
Things turned
Good

Sawdust

The mess is obvious…

The mess is obvious,
as is the advanced age of the tools:
but, what we might miss here,
and what we often miss,
is that the act of sawing off or carving away
what is deleterious to the final product
creates chaos;

we then mistakenly see
the unintentional aftereffect
as the purpose of the whole activity.

But the purpose is the carving;
the sawdust is only
the inventible chaos that comes
with creation.