I'm more than half way to the gates
or so the statistics fancy to say.
Seen a lot but need to see a lot more
haven't suffered or laughed enough
need a few more scuffs and scars
need to grow up but I'm trending down
need to hide pain and struggle gracefully
strengthen the weaknesses-maintain the strengths.
Though I don't have enough mental mortar.
need to toss these streaks of jealousy in the pit
need to pare down that gigantic bucket list
reach a couple of goals-go for one last blitz.
but I'm running low on energy and time
where are those auxiliary tanks of fuel and time
I need to pray more?
have I done enough for family-friends
need to pray more
have I done enough for god
need to be more humble
have I done enough for myself.
I've got to do more for others
to help them reach their goals
but what about mine
i'm running low on fuel and time
I've got to stop whining.
be a man-struggle in silence
The universe is 14 billion years old
I have to iron all this mess out
in 73 years or so.
That's a lot to ask of a man
who's having short term memory lapses
I need to pray for others more-and mean it
I wished for a flood
Because it is easier to throw away wet things.
But it did not happen.
A fire flicked across my mind, but was quickly discarded.
I hoped that God did not even sense this in my mind.
I dared not even let the whole thought in,
For fear it would be realized. A fire destroys everything.
Why is completely entertaining to go through other people’s piles,
When we are notoriously reluctant to go through our own?
Because it is such drudgery.
I was handing over the last of the things
I felt I could comfortably discard today.
It should have felt like a relief.
It could have been,
If I had been more cutthroat.
I have kept at least twice as many things as I should have kept.
Maybe when you get older and you have to pare down to a room
Full of stuff for a small apartment it is a relief.
Maybe it forces you to really look at everything in
A whole new way.
Here I sit, surrounded by my own maniacal idiocy, in the midst
Of things that no one else will want for any reason when I am gone.
It would be so handy to know your end date.
Right?
He said
remember me by the shape of my laugh
but I rarely saw a smile
climbing upon his image
left with no choice than
wrap those rare moments
seized with Polaroid seconds
I'm ordering them not to wear blue faces
as that was the only color he didn't want to follow him
consider it done
I'll lineup macarons in every tone
is possible to imagine
I'll spread gummy bears all over that
wooden plate which holds your body
so you can finally perceive
how it feels lying on the rainbow
yes
I'll pare down those blue shades
so that even rainbow cognises
how does it feel
being left
ripped
and no
there will be no rain
17 March 2010
Father And Son
--Mirrored Refrain—
--xaBA xbAB xaBA xbAB xaBA xbAB—
--Father and Son—
Fare thee well, to humbly exist and live for my son
If he feels blue, I’ll be his clown
Everything will be fine and dandy
As a father knows best
Mother having the hand that rocks the cradle
Father as a pillar of the home
As a father knows best
Everything will be fine and dandy
I’ll choose clothes that fit him
Among the choices to pare down
Everything will be fine and dandy
As a father knows best
Accompanying him for his first haircut with the barber
And buying for his first pocket comb
As a father knows best
Everything will be fine and dandy
Accompany him to every breathtaking ride
Share the quiver and embrace to cool down
Everything will be fine and dandy
As a father knows best
Learn the ropes and lend an ear
For life is the epitome of adventuresome
As a father knows best
Everything will be fine and dandy
As I leave work this Friday night,
my mind is still in over-drive.
Momentum from my busy day
keeps spinning mixed ideas and plans.
But just now I face a heavy task
involving choices to be made:
my mother moves tomorrow morning
to smaller quarters nearer me.
That means choices must be made
about possessions dear to her but
will not fit in her smaller place.
We must sort out, pare down and cull.
We go to work with pad and pencil:
this coat has not been worn in years,
this table won’t begin to fit ...
The kids might want this china set.
I speed along to make the list
but suddenly I am aware
my mother moves at a slower pace
and I have left her far behind.
She wants to talk about the friend
who gave to her this faded scarf,
about the family meals she served
here on this old oaken tabletop.
While I am urging her to choose,
she tells me the stories of her life.
She wants to have a slower farewell
to all these pieces of her life.
At last, I come to realize
I must shift down to a lower gear
to give her time to say good-bye
to these fragments of her yesteryears.