As I was swimming this morning in the ocean of life
the Sun danced waves brought an unexpected delight.
An acquaintance from the past,
which I used to call friend.
It staggers the mind,
how my mind comprehends.
We talked of the years, jobs and careers
homes and families and friends.
then we departed
just like we had started
with a nod of the head
and a shake of the hand
I'll see you around
if I see you again
I awoke this morning in a sheeted sweat,
from a dream I had last night.
A perfect world in a perfect way,
was traded as part of my life.
I sat there thinking for quite some time,
about the trade I'd made.
So would this time in my mind,
do nothing more than fade; away.
In a hollow lump in the middle of my chest,
A warmth began to rise.
I cried out for mercy from the one above,
my brain wants me to compromise.
A life time I've wondered just why it is,
my brain and heart can't meet.
A penny for my thoughts, is about all it's worth,
but even a penny is now obsolete.
So back into my sweaty sheets I crawl,
to try and sleep once more.
As the clouded thoughts of my brain and heart,
bring about again this conflicted storm.
So can there really be any measure in me,
as the wheels grind brain cells.
I guess I'll find out in the end,
while arriving at heaven; or hell?
I live together in a lonely state,
watching the movement from a far,
disappearing into the hidden places,
where no one else will trod.
I give the day it's daily due,
by showing up for work.
my mind tells me, what the hell,
by retreating into the dark.
Once again, I am with my friends,
Me, Myself and I.
Lost to the world that shut's us in,
just to hear life pass us by.
I find dealing with some so intolerable that I could scream.
but here I remain; living someone else's dream.
So back to closed doors,
I push once more,
retreating to find new hope.
I call out to whatever,
looking for an answer.
I'd be better off calling the Pope.
So back to the place's where comfortable resides,
watching it all pass by,
waiting for the calm to arrive once more,
with Me, Myself and I.
Old and stooped over, left without closure,
that life would soon take away,
an old cowboy's friendship,
with the land and the passion,
that ranching has brought to this day.
The last of his breed,
a proud type of steed,
head strong and set in his ways.
Mind strong as nails,
but a body full of tales,
of a youth lived out on the range.
A time when,
a cattle drive would extend,
from Billings to old Cheyenne.
Nights on the range with cattle and friends,
just memories in an old man's brain.
His old friend Charlie,
took a bit of barley,
to load him and get under way.
With a whinny and a whine,
Charlie knew it was time,
from the tear on the old cowboy's face.
An old empty barn,
with an old dusty saddle,
of an old Cowboy's ways.
are all that's left,
of a time that's past,
and a salute to an old Cowboy's praise.
Phillia; oh My brother of life,
Brought through time and wrought though strife.
We've met this day through unblood ways,
given this test of heart we've made.
With youth we bled from youthful knees,
Carried the hearts of youthful dreams.
We grew into the Brother's we are today,
given this test of heart we've made.
Phillia; oh My Brother's, Son.
My heart hurts for his hearts one.
Time has taken us different ways,
But with this old ticker, Phillia remains.
Well into the shadows of life we've claimed,
settled minds and unashamed.
Captured essence of solitude,
Phillia; oh My Brother, I think we made it through.
With silence quite astounding,
In pleasurable surroundings,
enthralled with all my mind can store,
watching the tops of the trees,
Like a calm ocean undulating,
to the motion of the earth.
Lying on my pine needle floor.
Watching light make it's way once more,
falling down like lasers beams
finding its way through canopy seams.
to enhance the colors inside my dreams,
Part of life's most astounding things
I heard the murmurs of souls from times unknown.
Soft, yet powerful enough to shake the ground beneath my feet.
The muddled murmurs were an irritating noise to my ears.
Wave after wave of mind numbing noise,
that became stronger and stronger like that of a tidal wave of
masses shouting at me.
Quiet!; I screamed, then Dead silence.
I looked out over the myriads of people standing silent.
For as far as the eye can see,
like that of a great ocean of faces,
my brain could hardly comprehend the staggering site before me.
Why are you here; I asked?
Then the deafening sound returned to the point it hurt.
I cupped my hands over my ears to soften the discomfort.
However it just kept getting louder and louder,
like the thunderous sounds of cannons coming closer and closer.
war, War, WAR!
Please I shouted, no more!
Then a softness in the tone came from the crowds.
I un-cupped my ears to hear
the murmuring this time was understandable
I could hear repeatedly, running through the crowds
like that of gossip gone wild
He gets it.
He gets it.
The Murmurs I've talked about in times past,
have invaded my dreams and become the streams
of on lookers that is unsurpassed.
Not that their interested in me per se,
nor my works of the moment or the poem of the day.
Not in the life or the strife of mankind unresolved,
Not in the mindless motions of government bickering involved.
No; not even in the plants or the animals or the skies up above.
But everything for a moment: shown with a little bit of "LOVE !"
Now; I can't predict the out come of it all,
if "Love" see's no future; does it mean we're all devolved?
After all "Love" has but one rule to be; one rule for every human being,
one rule you can't escape; one rule for times sake.
"LOVE" your neighbor! Which is your fellow human beings!
Be they White or Black or Yellow or Red.
Be they Christian or Muslim or Jewish.
Be they Islamic or Amish or Buddhist.
The murmurs surround and entail profoundness,
in the joy that we are all the same,
and the common denominator of it all
is the "LOVE" we share each and every day.
A soliloquy comes over me as a testament to this great rock.
The names and dates and markings from generations ago unlock,
those that past this way on foot and ox and horse,
and those that never made it here; to chisel and endorse.
Silent now are the graves that sit beside this place,
and the thousands that pass by and give respect to unknown names.
A rot-iron fence sit's where some say they lay
the children that may have died here; is also where they played.
Stone scratched history, tar and paint,
the rolling Sweetwater accentuates,
this giant rock where thousands now have trod,
left with only the name,
of Independence Rock.
Here In the wide open Wyoming wilderness,
My eyes capture what can't be enhanced.
A campfire crackling beneath a star filled sky,
time that stands still as consolations pass by.
shadows of sage that dance beyond campfire light.
A realization of the treasure it is; this Wyoming life.
The plateau breezes that naturally eases,
the mind of this callused man.
Take's me back to a time now long forgotten,
when solitude, was the attitude,
of every Nation, Tribe and Clan.
With the stillness of the night,
you can still hear that plight,
through the cry's of the coyote howl.
So it seems; that all poetry brings,
is solitude that will last just awhile.