Your Game

you say I'm this
and say I'm that
perhaps too loud
too quiet
too proud

devouring space
or in your face
stealing your song
telling your story
or staying too long

I feel manipulated
man handled and baited
someone else is always to blame
are you bored?
now you expect me to play your game

Memories of a Distant Lover

I met you in a dream months ago. Never thinking we would actually fall into each others arms, never imagining you would appear in the flesh.

In the dreamtime, you were simply a picture, a development in my experience. But there you were, in reality, my Arabian savior. You were standing in front of me, all senses engulfed, the world spinning out of control, with heart on sleeve.

I found you in the corner of a crowded room among so many strangers. You turned, said hello, shook my hand, and instantly I took to you and you to me. Without hesitation we whispered truths of the deepest kind, we delved into the mysteries of life, love, nature, spirit. Words poured from our lips like the sweetest wine. We lost ourselves in the abyss of our infinite gaze.

In you, I found both a friend and companion. I was fixated and captured, watching you like a bird perched on a tree. We found ourselves celebrating, dancing away the hours, and from the edge of the dance floor I saw how free you were. You were fearless. Your smile permeated everything you looked at. You were beautiful, graceful, and I... grateful.

A Waking Dream Into Sufficiency

he woke
with a dream
still lingering
fingering through
itching his tongue
and all he tasted
was the hatred
his mind created
and the weighted
anchor on his back
where he carried the lack
packing the guilt
for being built
so "deficient"
so "insufficient"
...
but he woke
this time anew
and he knew
fortune gazed
and cleared his haze
as he tripped
on the cord
of his discord
that detested
so invested
in thoughts infested
in the lack
of itself
of his "self"
...
and from the shelf
he seized all novels
of his strife
and with a knife
engraved it
with new life
and it was freed
from its binding
and so it shook
from this book
all the lies
all the ties
and wasted time
he spent believing
in that paradigm
no longer serving
or deserving
his mind's inventions
or toxic intentions
...
he knew this needed no further attention

Giuseppe Verdi

Although we may never get to see them again,
never get to hear their interpretation or experience,
we have the humble privilege of knowing that someone is moved by our vibration,
whether it be with canvass or sound.

My New Voice

There's a pressure inside
about needing to be more
of something that I am not.
I place these high expectations
on being different or other than this moment,
on solving things that have not yet happened,
things that may never be.

I am observing these jagged little edges of my psyche,
unsatisfied until fully guilt ridden.
Reminding of every indiscretion,
recalling every nuance of my imperfect existence.
For what?
I cannot tell you.

What I know is that this is the moment.
This a moment of true aliveness.
Now, beating in my chest,
rippling the air around me.
The other is also here,
but it is no longer my voice.

Journeying Boy

"What is it you seek, oh journeying boy?"

"Why does my heart feel so alone here?
What has been lost of me?
Why is it that I seek to know the greatest mysteries,
and all I find are paths upon paths of confusion?
I ask then,
why should I continue without map or guide?"

"Unknowing is your compass, dear one.
The mysteriousness of seeking within is the Gift.
Lose yourself in these unknown territories of your Soul,
there shall you find galaxies upon galaxies of Guidance and Love.

This Vehicle, Thy Will

From the darkness of the curtains I emerge.
A simple light leads the way as if it were a golden path.
In front of me, an empty canvass full of potential.
All judgments behind me.
My legs are beneath me, listening.
Shaking with the care-filled rhythms that surround.
It is a voice other than my own that I hear.
Even as I open my mouth and taste each cavity within the walls of my face,
it is another voice that sings.
I listen to my heart, to the hearts all around.
Silent and still.
I am the instrument.
Use this vehicle, use me for Thy will.

Snippets of a Dream

Last night as I lay nearly sleeping,
I drifted into the most obscure galaxy.
It was a empty hole with excess noise;
sounds with growing horns and daggers,
monotonous and chaotic,
chattering in the mind.
I remember my reflection in the mirror.
I looked at my body unsatisfied and in judgment.
I snarled at myself.

Something Real to Say

it is contrast to be understood
to be felt by thousands
and then completely unheard
silenced by one unopened

many thoughts unspoken...
many things misread...
many more unsaid...

consider me guilty
for not having been upfront
for not having been more forthcoming
this much I was admitting

but you wanted me to use your words
not from my heart
but like a tool
play your game by your rules

instead you silenced a room full of people
who actually had something real to say

Dear Diary (November 1, 2008)

Dear Diary,

According to the astrologers a new moon is in motion, signifying, in conjunction with the distant planets, an exciting transformation for myself and all Cancerians globally. I haven't seen this new moon or noticed the many gifts she and her astral friends are supposedly arising. Of course, I haven't noticed much these days, other than hotel beds, tragic carpeting, and microwaves that have been radiating the shit out of my food.

Mostly I've noticed how easily I feel myself slipping into boredom. I observe myself listening with my ears, no longer with my heart, and the point of focus is inward and shrunken. In this moment, this fleeting moment, I'm the smallest version of myself. Some potential for shifting is here I felt it but moments ago, an instant away towards breaking free of these self-imposed chains.

There is that nagging place in me, in all of us I feel, that seeks to be victimized and anxious. It's not anyone's fault, it is simply our training; take the stress of life and amplify- make it huge, make it count, make it worst than someone else's, make sure everyone hears the tone in your voice, your cry for pity.

I shut my mouth, because I don't believe a word my mind is saying. I want it to be different. I will be different and I'll pack my bags incessantly for the next few weeks, look at the floral carpeting again and again, but I will stand centered in my silent. Until something other than garbage can come out of this mouth, I will not speak. I will be truthful and will remember this eternal existence. I will live from my heart and I will sing.

I will brave the journey for this soul, banishing the thoughts that do not serve, and abandoning myself into this moment... the Master of every moment.

Rapid City Blues

God I'm afraid.
Too afraid to scream,
too afraid to cry.

I want the tears
to ease the fears.
How do I live from here?

I wanna ask why.

Sheltered or Shattered

i'm quietly sheltered
in my old familiar shell
that inviting cocoon of separation
so clammy, so crabby out of desperation

it has been keeping me quiet
reserving and repairing
not injured or victimized
but betraying the deepest places

what happens if i open up this heart?
cracked shell, exposed underbelly
will it shatter?
will it fail?

there's a strange rhythm inside
shaking in the unknown

Without Imposition

i'm not always clear
on what this is all about
is this a test?
a discipline?
a mastery?
evolution?

i won't pretend
or defend
my position
i'll just know
what i know
without imposition

About Being a Man or Straight Acting

he would throw me to the wolves
the same ones that banished him from their pack

it's as though he wishes for adversity to be devoured
by savages and medieval thinkers
by contending with that perpetual unconscious parasitic way of being

he speaks of stereotypes and behaviors
but i live
knowing
in the deepest way what being a man is really about

Drunk on September the 6th

what the fuck!
i must appear jaded
but in actuality
i'm just drunk

it's my current human condition
i am a drunken fool
it's what I am now
silly and loosened up

tonight i'm neurotic
insistently waiting
for what or whom
i don't know

i've kept the door unlocked and the windows open

How?

All the experiences I wish to write can not be written.
I try to lay the words on the page.
The blank canvass becomes a puzzle with too many pieces.

How does this poet expose the alone places,
or those unmentionable places?
How do I scrape away the excess?
How do I express the simplicity of my immediate experience?

Afternoon Delight

cozy warm inside my crabby shell
cocooned from the world
i lay in my stillness
staring at a familiar scene
sitting on my thighs
this colorful screen

this afternoon's delight
an encore performance
of "man hunt"

The Prayer

i'm still madly in love with you
fuck the structure of poetry
that annoying seductress
locked within the ideas
bathing in regulations

cuz christ i want
i want that taboo love from you
the one that feels illegal because it's so raw
in this moment i want to go backwards
try again

all of those things i didn't "get"
all of those increasing expectations
they matter little now
when my heart still craves you like this
and every new potential is fucked
because i compare them all to you

i know in what i trust
but right now i just want
your goofy smile
your lusting eyes
your slender body
your shaking hips
your scorpion fire
your lips
oh those lips that i loved to kiss
that beautiful open heart
oh when it shone
you filled my being with creative Life

i have the uncontrollable urge
to phone you
to weep in confession
or regression
or out of some repression

trivial thoughts
because i fear this
is one-sided
- perhaps as it always was
or is it again my story of self-pity
and deprivation

i'm in a prayer:
let this contrast into my body
let me loosen this love inside of this heart

Without You Here

moments of doubt resurface without you here
the tightrope tightens

and so I am reminded to trust in my aloneness
not separate in our distance

I await your return and the remembering which you carry;
my consecrated relationship and our paradoxical existence.

Removed From Mind

there's a hush
filled with grace
an empty room
made of space

cleared of thoughts
thoughts of clearing
clearing thoughts
which I am hearing

through this Self
I co-create
truthful Presence
the deepest faith

why this current?
this current vessel?
am i safe?
does safety tremble?

when will I trust
in this adventure?
'tis evolution
that seeks surrender

what i seek
i will not find
it has been found
removed from mind

Mysterious Scorpion

whenever I read of your latest exploration
i still get that jittery feeling

there's still that temperature increase
the rise
heart on edge
pounding

i don't lie to myself
i miss you
you were a lover to me
without boundaries
available indefinitely in our embrace

i don't miss what i expected of you
but expected you might miss it a little
miss me a little

such caution you take
in your coded revelations
i see the layers you are peeling
the ones no longer serving
they are visible to me

you remain the mysterious scorpion

You are Me

friend from the past
how curiously you have returned to me
how interesting the changes
we speak in tongues now
in languages unheard, unspoken
a dialect reciting from the heart

we are ever-changing
finding each other Now
Soul embracing Soul
on common ground
steadier than common
mysterious gravitational pull into relationship

that which resides in you
is a marvel to the planet
you are radiance
you are the melody that always returns
singing within the cells for generations
you are more than my friend
you are a presence
you are essential
you are me

Intensity

I feel your vulnerability in your sharing.
What a gift you offer by being so open and available.
This is what I have been feeling between you and I,
this sensation of availability to Life,
to the current.

Our awakened bodies near each other,
touching (or not),
bodies electric,
I could barely be beside you.
I am humbled by our current.

As for your challenges,
I hear how difficult it is.
I can not fully understand the challenges,
as they are not mine.
But we can and do trust in Life.

In this conscious evolution,
this time represents the deepest invitation,
an immersion into Life itself,
a mastery of sorts,
a discipline in every moment.

How deep is our love of Source?
Nothing will stand in our way.
Nothing can stand in the way of a consecrated life.
We will invite the shadows that appear.
We shall walk into the intensity... together.

The Silent Gift Between Us

I knew you had come into the house.
I observed myself inching into the kitchen to find you,
creatively keeping my availability away.
Awkward wasn't I?
But you looked so beautiful.
Your skin soft, your arms, shaved head, and piercings-
I craved you instantly.

And you fearlessly gazing into this new body,
risking yourself.
I felt vulnerable,
watching my softness turn into aloofness.
Your masks are visible too.

Melting away the masks,
I stretched - we stretched-
and remained silent.
Remembering our work,
my discipline,
letting go into love,
falling into trust.

Your eyes may not have looked
upon my exposed physical body,
but I wanted to be free
of the chains which had bound me,
so I went into the direction of the intensity.
In silence I heard my stories
and like clouds in the sky,
I let everything pass through.
All masks, all judgments, all comparisons dropped-
trusting in our perfection.

Again you found me later,
on the couch overlooking paradise.
Inching as close as you could,
were you teasing me?
Our eyes closed.
It was just there,
you and I.
We dove into a sensual exploration
with energetic intensity,
a sensual electricity.
I thought,
'Is this what availability to life feels like?'

And again beside me,
amongst the many hands of our community,
you softly stroked mine,
and we mysteriously melted away the fears.
I witnessed between us all of Life
as the electric current of aliveness.

I am human.
I am a feeling body.
And I wanted you.
I lay in my sleeping bag as though in a waking dream.
I longed for you.

Our body electric.
This is the silent gift between us.

Exquisite Death

ashes to ashes
among the growing buds
nearly sprouting
a seed birthing

like fallen leaves
becoming nature's feast
when dissolving the old
all is healed

I Remember This Part Well

i remember kissing you
lips so soft
how we couldn't get enough
of loving each other
with foggy brains
and engulfed organs

how we would kiss and kiss
and kiss
lips puffy and swollen
until the hours passed us away
and the world around us
crept into their beds
into their dreams
all around us
sleep
and us?
awake
or perhaps asleep
eyes wide shut

you remember it well don't you?
shivering body
quivering body
each hair erect
naked
and we fell softly
side by side
interlacing
skin to skin
arms embracing

i remember this part well

The Places of Discipline

There are the very few who get to see the hopeless places,
the desperate places,
those little places moving me forward,
showing me everything sideways and backwards,
still catching and snagging me unconsciously
- now conscious.

I try every mind-filled strategy,
wishing to avoid the catastrophe,
waiting anxiously for an epiphany.
Silence.
Questions.

I know these places require my discipline.

My Equal

Where is the man who understands my art? My exposed heart?
That man who dares to live vulnerably?
Where is the man who looks into my eyes
and sees the likeness of himself and the vast eternity within?
Where is he? My equal?
The one who will put aside conditional love?

Oh dearest specimen of Godliness and man in union,
you and I will be devoted only to that unconditional presence,
together we shall sail towards the same destination.

Daniel the Warrior - (from a collection of poems September 2007)

Oh great warrior,
look into the faces of the ancients
they breath fire into your wounds.

Oh gentle warrior,
encompassing the Infinite Spirit and Divine,
Sing your wisdom - SHOUT!

You are mightiness untamed,
mightiness without boundaries.
Which of us here can contain that
which belongs to all of us?

Stand as a monument,
Oh great pillar of existence.
Together we dance.

Gentle warrior,
oh loving warrior,
welcome home.

Untitled - (from a collection of poems September 2007)

How do you manage to creep in?
Sly, underhanded, mistaken identity.
You appear without invitation,
cradled in your nest of unease.
I watched you as you entered within
you who is without.
Where do these words come from?
They are not mine-
borrowed from the poverty of humanity.

Stepping In - (from a collection of poems September 2007)

stepping into the infinite
not up or down
direction-less
stillness

faces of the generations arise
protected and divine
the path better faced without resistance
journeying boy... unknowing is wise

smiling blissfully
all is felt
not contained
all retained and changed

Through a Crack in the Blinds

Through a crack in the blinds
I am witness to my fondest illusion,
our three dimensional existence.

What a glorious sight this planet
and all that moves within.

How deliciously tempting it is to forget-
to put aside our Eternal existence
for all the pretty pictures.

But I have peaked through another opening,
this has taken away the "blinds".
A multi-dimensional key-hole,
where I have felt Life itself,
tasted Force which has inspired everything,
painted every masterpiece,
carved every sculpture,
written the holiest of scriptures
and birthed human experience.

I do not denounce this human condition with its illusions.
I trust in our collective invitation.
I am humbled in the experience.

Through a crack in the blinds
I will again be asked to discern,
between our ordinary existence
and the eternal journey of our Infinite Souls.

New World

there's a relief inside
a vulnerable truth was spoken
carefully uttered words
held in the arms of the tribe

there was danger in her speaking
she knows the warrior I've befriended
still being tamed
turbulent and not fully mastered
but still we risk

in the immediacy of the experience
a volcano erupts
the mind scrambles to reassemble
knees buckling and innards shake

there lies the courage and opportunity to expand
the picture of our ever-changing tribe
our new world

What is man anyhow?

i'm slightly curious
to follow through
in some exploration
of what it might feel like
to say yes
to you
to a man i do not know

in the words of a great man
"What is man anyhow?"
so what and who is this man
with hidden portrait
playful wisdom
abdominal chisel
and fleshy torso
and offerings so sensual?

Avoiding

There's so much to be done,
thousands of pages,
multiplying tasks
piled on the hardwood floor.

Instead of sorting and sifting,
I'd rather be drawn
to the window ledge,
the one with cracking paint and tired wood.

I'd rather feel the massage of the trees
staring at me majestically,
or write a symphony,
or integrate dreams of popes and masturbation.

Sooner or later this mountain,
let me rephrase,
this tiny little ant hill of musical notes
will require my attention.
After lunch perhaps,
or a stroll in park.

Who Fits the Shoe? (A Secretive Obsession)

It's been an obsession,
a secretive session,
a question.
Now for more confusion.

For you my heart feels,
it's a discipline to ignore memories' reels.
But for now I can't resist,
this nagging obsession which exists.

I'm well aware of the healthier things to do
than to dream of you
or of which Prince Charming or Cinderella
could finally fit the shoe.

But for now I am here feeling slain,
nothing to gain,
rethinking my obsession,
realizing my confession.

Wounds and Dreams

there are things I wished to tell you
real things
strange things
things I never had the chance to say
about my deepest wounds
or of my greatest dreams

slowly they are unfolding
the things i wished to tell you
you will hear them without my words
they are finding their way
through creative force

my wounds
they are being sung by the Collective choir
and danced by the flowering cherry blossoms

my dreams
they are the melodies i cannot hear
and my legacies not yet written

The Tribe

in the center of myself
in the core of nothing
in the void of everything
a vibration enters

this is where I become the vulnerable virgin
being raped into consciousness
ripping and tearing
feeling the pulling and stretching

the gift is this life inside of me
birthing me again and again
into an unconscious jungle
guided and held by my tribe

Out of my Control

two cups of joe
where to go
with this
and that
black liner
still under
my eyes
surprise
she's a man
he's a fan
of her song
little sparrow
short and narrow

a fiery passion
feels so horny
now i write
maybe corny
i'm speechless
with remembering
the feeling
the reliving
a past lover
slightly darker
than i remembered
but it's useless
rather pointless
to follow through
cuz when i'm through
i'll be through
again... through with you

so unsatisfied
by my hands
by my touch
i look outside
for another
warmer body
anybody?
not just some body
i'd rather dream
of the past
of something crass
than to succomb
to the dumb
to the ones
who cannot speak
from the heart
or from
the centered drum
of their souls
this is so out of my control

so i must
ask again
in what do i trust?

Music is Silence - Stillness Sings

as i stared into the heavens
the moon stared back
wondering why i was so full

i appreciated this moon equally
knowing it held no judgment
no projections, no past or future

we gazed into each other fondly
intimately accepting our current
available to the same source from which we came

i had just come from an experience
a magnificently simple evening of invitation
where sounds blended and music imprinted joy into my heart

so as i rested into its reflection
we lay sweetly into stillness
recognizing that all music begins with silence

Gathering the Remains

dare i play this game
when there nothing to gain
everything to lose?

the antagonist is who i've been made out to be
i have become the enemy
the evil - the heavy

so i gather the remains
of materials and my dignity
and this is what is left;
a green cotton t-shirt
and my love

No Apologies

I don't feel it in my gut
what you think I've done.
I'm working through my ego kinks,
ironing the shit out some very wrinkled thoughts.

You know it would be easy for me to be pissed with you,
but I'm not angry at all.
Actually, there is renewed spaciousness,
and fascinating centering.

I've been forced in silence,
because the alternative to it is unsustainable.
I've been resting,
in my living meditation,
allowing me to look from an observer's perspective.

Truth is, I make no apologies,
there isn't space in me for the dramatics.
It just doesn't feel accurate or true.
The things you're feeling,
I know they are real.
But I know that this working through you
simply isn't mine.

My heart opens to our process now.
I'm listening from that place.
I admit there is resistance,
as I have felt misunderstood,
and feel that I had been made out to be the heavy.
Most importantly,
I'm disappointed and intensely irritated.

I'm glad to have the comfort to safely explore this here,
without the need to exchange words with you,
as I continue honor my experience in silence.

My Home

there is a delicate place
this Sacred, most precious place
which speaks to us beyond sound
calling us beyond our finite existence
Infinitely available

i feel it as a pulse
between the words
before the thought
beating
breathing
holding me-holding us
holding our hands in times of blindness
with eyes closed or open
it is ever-present
we are born from it
and so it is known
guiding us into the fearless
into the safety of the surrender
asking us all,
"In what do we trust?"

i felt it
as it rattled and quivered
as it laughed and danced into wildness
and as it returned and rested into natural balance
i was caressed by it

and then i traveled to the cosmos
playing amongst the stars
innocently swimming through the galaxies
spinning into the mysteries
the unknown regions
only once did I return
in a moment of disbelief
"Surely the cosmos could not be me!"
too large for the mind to conceive
it shook me
my insides trembled

but only for a moment

in a listening attention
i felt the steadying
i simply suckled that shivering child
wrapped my arms around it
and again the Universe was not separate from me
the galaxies danced
and the stars and i were One
in harmony
nurtured and immersed in benevolent love

i know this place,
it is my home

Something Brings Me Back

something brings me back
to our secret place
our literary treehouse
where two boys in discovery
lost in life's unknown regions
are found in their imaginations
exposing in their explorations

i confess i come expecting
hoping to find your raw poetic bravery
to witness some victorious evolution
some bombastic realization
perhaps for my satisfaction

you call them "stories"
but we both know
they are birthed
from the depths of your expression
and yet, i'm shrinking- not expanding
as i attempt to read between the lines

who are you really?
what are you?

(hell, what am i?)

i knew of you
with your creative genius
able to build foundations on quicksand
finding characters
to speak on your behalf
the words you yourself could never utter

and also i knew of you
in your resistances
with your guards and gates
in your parameters of love
your frozen boundaries
stifling potential aliveness

but i did know you
we knew each other
in the largest of spaces
in unobstructed relationship
we got there every time
breath on skin
climactically sighing
ravaging each other
fumbling into ecstatic connectiveness
alive from the release

then-
and only then
did i truly know you

those afterthoughts
that opening
fearless
immersed

Trickery

There are tricky places
in the mystery of life,
when discernment is essential.
When we must distance ourselves,
creating spaces within,
giving opportunity for shifts
within the other.

It is the trickiest of places
when a foe disguises himself as a friend,
hides his fangs,
and masks the havoc he seeks.
Waiting...
For the perfect opportunity to bite.

Oh I've sensed it for months now.
I've seen it in my dreams.
The animal nature within that lashes out,
threatening to sink its teeth in.
I've cried many tears,
witnessing and experienceing my potential
to chomp down and spew venom.
I cry now...

I'm saddened by this trickery,
the projections that injure
and corrupt the senses.
It has baffled my senses
and tested my consecration.

In this Space

oh my dearest friend
my twin and soul companion
my deepest simplicity
you who has brought me to my consecration
you who has watched and held my awakening
you- my bountiful blessing

how do i hold you while faltering in my uncertainties?
how do i give you the same spacious temple you've offered me?
i'm learning, i'm listening
not necessarily knowing how to be in this
with my constitution shaken

i know nothing is lost here
that our love is an experience
so this is my new silence
immersed in the mysterious formless
i'll meet you here darling
in this space

And This Was Our Goodbye

the night had seemed a mistake
until you found me
standing in the vined doorway
with a few of my borrowed friends
enclosing me in their circle

it was funny how you weren't there
and then you were
i barely noticed you at first
and when i did it seemed you liked the tall one
he sure fancied you

it was subtle how it happened
how i was sure you had gone with him
and suddenly there you were
reappearing with purpose
forthcoming and available

i observed as our words deepened
how you inched forward
the more alive it became
the more tangible the current
and all it took was for me to mention it

i knew you would come back with me
and i would be safe in your arms
that you would honor our experience
that you would respect me
and not expect of me or my body

without words spoken
with simply a kiss
we walked away from the chaos hand in hand
into the mystery of our experience
staying simple and playful
embracing the present

i watched you in excitement
removing your baby blue t-shirt
God you looked so gorgeous
your back perfectly formed
eventually standing beautifully in front of me
naked, peaceful, smiling

i knew ours was not for the keeping
that nothing more would come of this
at least nothing more than what was happening
so i tried to memorize the feelings and tingling senses

and in the morning
you unwrapped yourself from my body
my eyes barely opened
you kissed and whispered to me softly
so gently, to not disturb my dream-time
and so you left to your next adventure

and this was our goodbye

Doppleganger

i saw you at that coffee shop
with your hair disheveled
tall and handsome
hiding your gazing eyes

in a moment i fell in love again
my heart skipping a beat
shortness of breath
tears rising to the surface

i couldn't see clearly
behind those glasses
too dark the shades
were you squinting or observing?

i thought twice before moving in closer
to say hello
to confess my longing
or to say goodbye- who knows

i found myself pathetic
confused, lost, found
melting into adoration
drugged into the sweet nectar again

but when you turned your head
i looked at your face
i smiled softly and sat beside you
knowing I had made a mistake

it wasn't you at all

Objection to the Objectified

it's important to see the contrast
to be the flip side of the coin
after all that has happened

observing within myself
that which glorifies another
and the projections when being glorified

idolizing can be a malicious tool
where we create imaginary separation
shrinking life-force into form

what a potent addiction
for the untamed ego
to be revered - objectified

i am not wise
nor the wisdom
or the wiser

In the Face of Aloneness

"Hear me!" I shouted
In a voicetrous tenor
Looking to them to find
What is already mine
Already available

I was abandoned
No doubt
Standing in the door of aloneness
Not separate
But left in unobstructed silence
Left with my mistakes
No sympathetic ear could they lend

Without condoning what was missed
I wished something different
A collective acknowledgment
Of the many times where the tables have been turned
Showing their lack of attention on every detail
"We too have strived, we too have failed."

This is another opportunity
Most uncomfortable and alive
But I can now visibly see the contrast
And live with my renewed discipline
And move forward in discernment

The Lost October Poem or Someone Else's Story

He has his stories about life and love,
convinced of the climax,
gleaming from its brilliant denouement.

Revealing himself in verses and prose,
wisdom beyond his birth year,
but a boy he remains.

He insults me with his pride,
self-righteous,
revealing his innocence again and again and again.

Oh! I wish things differently.

I'm selfish with boyish expectations.
I've cared for an ego,
I've fed it over and over and over.

I'm starving.

The Music Plays On

melodic lines
can shake the core
without their own volition

they sing their own songs
awaking minor chords
without malicious intention

however there exists the potential
where music trickles in
when life's players are lost in the potions of love

that's where the music plays on
playing strings for the heart
impregnating the plot

that's why music will always win
for it arouses the memories therein

Untitled

once
i held you close
and now i just hold you
it feels different

but know
that even so
i hold you now
perhaps even closer

Safe Place

This is a safe place for us I think,
a training ground for where we meet.
Redefining... re-examining the here and now.
Unobstructed... without defeat.

I have to make one thing clear,
you are not the only one I have,
nor the last to win my heart.
This is not a game I'm playing.

I do not blame you.
I do not think you at fault.
I do not even contemplate your reasons,
your changes of heart.

Presume anything but this.

Hard-Wired Eyes - Part 2

It felt good to blame you for something
To yell and scream in your general direction
But I know that you are not to blame
These hard-wired eyes have been always been
Since our first chat
Since our first date

To say you've spied is my projection
That is mine, my cross to bear
I have done what I claim you do
But it's my only way to stay compassionate
To look everyday to find the man I loved
The one who told me he never loved in return

Hard-Wired Eyes

I just realized that you could see me
It's made me so upset
Knowing that you've seen every visit
Every click in your direction
I wonder if it has made you feel better than
I wonder if you've patted yourself on the back
I wonder if you've made a story
The story of the weak and obsessed

I want to know how you are
I'm not ready
Not even close
My body trembles when I start to write
Something in you doesn't want me there
Something in me knows the danger and lack

I'm bound and tied
I don't trust my ego yet
My heart shrinks at the thought of you
I'm not ready
So I come to find you in the place where creativity enters
At least there is something there
At least there is some iota of the you I recognize

Now I cringe at the thought of entering again
Knowing you spy with hard-wired eyes

A Hunt in Dieppe

2 am
i'm all alone
in this room
no one else
i miss my home
but by myself
i want something else

i need another
to make this happen
to feed this hunger
this human need
i want a touch
against my skin
i'm feeling numb
but not within

i've decided
begin the hunt
filtering with guts
can't be too picky
with intimate encounters
listening to intuition
knowing consecration
i won't be led astray
i need it simple
a physical experience
i trust the flow
of what needs to be

without delay
he finds his prey
"come over" i say
he says, "a half hour away"
the invitation is made
he's on his way

in the lobby
he arrives
what a surprise
different from the prize
i thought i was getting
yet now i feel obliged
to let him in
at least for wine
and see what lies
behind the shell
perhaps his soul
will trump his false guise

ten minutes pass
my body/mind shifts
i don't want this
it's not aligned
i honor this
and i remain
a mysterious presence
expanded invitation

there's something else
that needs to happen
with a listening attention
i discover the reason
why he's come
it's not the encounter
he might have thought
not what expected either

he needs an ear
someone to hear
hold the space
as he speaks
pouring inferiorities
his sufferings
his ego-filled existence

i'm not judging
he knows no different
but life is giving it to him
i'm witnessing pieces of myself
appreciation fills my body
this is an exploration
he's alive
being heard
opening

i feel blessed
hours pass
the creative flow
has sex surpassed
before the ego has a chance
i end the night
4 am
a hug goodnight
not much to say
maybe thank you's too much
so he nods ok
"goodluck" i say

back in my room
i lay in bed
smile on my face
i'm grateful for grace
the hunt in Dieppe
has me shifted again

And Still You Find Your Ways

and still you find your ways into my dreams
where -if by choice-
i would ask you to leave
you've come several times
subconscious sorting
integrating

the dream in the brothel
with the mistress
undressing
then laying
temptation stirring
although I could not hear
my eyes saw no touching
just you crying
she came out saying
what we all suspected

and last night on the couch
where you fell asleep
we must have woken you
your friends and some of mine
you're constantly looking in my direction
a fear behind your stare
you haven't changed in the slightest
still aloof
still guarded
as always
and still you find your ways to diminish me
why were you so cruel to me?

get out of my head this morning
i've given you enough

Shut Up

I've tried to make space.
Living in constant meditation,
yet being asked to participate.
I'm really fed up,
masking my face with a smile.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.

You're funny and endearing.
But when does that become annoying?
It was cute,
now it's not.
Shut up.
Shut up.
Shut up.

We cheered you on at the start,
now I'm hoping you'll notice
all the blank faces
no longer in support.
Please shut up and listen.
I'll do the same for you.
I know at some point,
you'll need it too.

Goodnight my Love

I'll think about you as the dream-time carries me away.
That's where you first showed up.
I'll find you there again.
And again in the waking.
You understand what I am consecrated to,
I thank you for your wisdom.
I am here always.
I wait for you with open arms,
an open heart,
and spaciousness within.
Goodnight my love.

Something Important Happened Here

i must have missed something
i don't recognize you

am i finally seeing you
without rose-colored glasses?

or are you exactly the same
and I just failed to notice?

it's possible that I made it up
blindly believing that we felt the same

i'm actually disappointed
but filled with understanding

i'm on the verge of tears
simultaneously relieved

there's an awareness of the fundamental gaps
the significant differences

yet keenly aware
something very important happened here

Be Still

it had to shift
no other choice
i asked
was given

evolution is uncomfortable
past the tears
beyond 'i should' and 'i wish'
from there release can be revered

acknowledging this fearlessness
there is compassion
it's not for the faint of heart
i do it for me- for us

i'm listening
holding Soul's candle
barely seeing what's ahead
trusting the steps of consciousness

i will breath this
for i am breath
i am that which breaths me
filling me to capacity

through the disassembling pieces
i practice my discipline
watching them float
screaming their cries

paying attention
without mending or wishing
simply listening
trusting the inner flame

there wisdom whispers
"Be still."

All in Relationship

Why did I believe it to be so complicated?
Allowing myself to sufficate my largest space,
the one inside which speaks to the soul - divine.
I'm so thankful for the revelations,
the clarity of mind and spaciousness within.

What are the expectations now?
The truth is revealed through awareness,
the careful listening attention.
Who am I?
I will wake every day anew to discover it.
What is my life and every relationship consecrated to?
I hold it in my heart.

Each particle is filled with grace and love.
Observing, reminded of my expansive being,
remembering the aliveness.

This new thought, this feeling, releases every molecule;
no head games, no fears, vulnerability embraced.
All is in relationship with this now,
the rest falls away.

My Thoughts Are My Own

I know you will come to find me here,
in this place that I hold sacred.
It's ok though.

Know this: there's been integration,
and it has shifted me.
I am filled with compassion for all of it.

Chicago has been a blessing;
emotional and spiritual digestion
have altered every cell.

I'll continue to pour
my verses and prose,
knowing you'll see what you want.

Don't let it confuse you.
These stories are about me,
they're about my consecration.

In this place... my thoughts are my own.

Covered Wounds

my love questioned
the intimacy twisted
manipulated into a weapon

why have you taken from me
the honesty
my intentions

take a leap
into my heart
if pain is what you seek

oh gods
i weep
with covered wounds

The Break-Up (A short play)

"It's you."

"It's me."

"Yup, it is."

"What goin' on?"

"Nothing."

"Sounds like something is stirring."

"I'm always the one stirring... your turn."

"I'm good. Nothing stirs here. Making brownies."

"Convenient."

"Do my brownies make you upset?"

"Not the brownies, your lack of stirring. Maybe the brownies have occupied your thoughts more than I have."

"I'm sorry if it disappoints you. Would you rather I lie?"

"No. It's nice when reality bites me in the ass every once in a while. I thoroughly enjoy feeling second best, even more so to your brownies."

"The brownies are turning out beautifully though. Really perfect actually. (laughs) Just kidding."

"That was exactly the thing to say! See I'm always the one who stirs, looks needy. Do you know how that feels?"

"I see that."

"Not 'see', feel."

"What have I done?"

"Not a thing."

"Then what's wrong? I'd like to get to the bottom of this."

"Oh really, 'cause I've actually touched rock bottom today. It's actually quite harsh. There's a sour taste in your mouth, acid in your gut, and an array of emotional roller-coasters, and you'd like to use drugs to calm it all down, but you can't and you won't. So you remove the shards that are still in your side, pick up your stomped vital organs and begin reassembling. It's really the 'bottom' you've been searching for. You should try it."

"What the fuck? Still in the dark here. Do you mind turning the light on?"

"Get it yourself. Your the one who shut it off."

"I think we should talk later. Sounds like you're really pissed at me."

"I'm trying not to be an asshole. It's all coming out harshly though."

"I don't understand, that's all."

"There's lots going on here. But, I saw that god awful scene again. You know the one that I've played over and over in my head, in my dreams. I can't trust myself to not make up stories awake or asleep."

"Why do they make you so mad at me if they're only stories?"

"I don't know what I want."

"What do you want here, from me?"

"More."

"Please don't ask any more of me. I'm really stretched here."

"Surely you realize that you've asked ME to stretch by retaining myself, staying reserved to save you from the lies that you have spun."

"It's not easy for me either you know."

"Yes. We're doing really great at keeping this safe, aren't we?

"I'm just a man."

"You're a wimp. God help you when you're forced to break down the proverbial walls and all that's left standing is you. Naked, fragile and vulnerable."

"That's mean. It really hurts."

"It's terrible, but I made sure of it. 'An eye for an eye, a tooth for tooth', just the way you like it."

"I'm not sure who you want me to be. Is this not enough?"

"I guess I'm saying it isn't, because I'm not sure when you're ever going to think that we're good enough. Because, I know I'm good enough, and I'm proud to say that you are with me. But, I am the affair, the torrid expendable affair. You wonder why my teeth are sharp, well there it is. I am not someone you are proud of loving. I'm the secret that you keep, the poorest of insects trapped in your web."

"This is too much. You are way too much for me right now. You can't just let it be. You say 'In your own time', you say..."

"Yes, but will there ever be that time? The time when who you are becomes more important than what people think of you. In the meantime, I'm in the dark. When do I get to be a part of your story?"

"I'm not sure what to say here."

"Me neither. (long pause) This is it, isn't it?"

"For now."