As I have grown older, so many things have changed, from the things I dreamt of and those I never had.
Now it doesn't matter as I sit in my chair, you speak, advise and I listen but despite your mediation and ideas of immersion I still just sit.
How things have changed, how many people have gone, and still I just sit looking at the world, I have seen so much, that now I feel neither desire or aversion to the way people are.
I started as a man who set myself standards and managed peoples expectations, but here I still sit with all those conditional beliefs discarded.
People come, people go and night continues to follow the day, as I feel things slowly slipping away, I think about my final farewell, I won't say what songs to sing, just ask that all have a hymn to hum, hummed in your own special version.
GOODBYE
Hymns we hum are our own version.
We cast aside the ancient,
dogmatic liturgy,
For the hymns we hum are our
own version,
Symphonies forged in the
crucible of autonomy.
No longer chanting the
antodisestablishmentarian
strains,
We orchestrate an unyielding,
revolutionary resonance.
Every breath breathes a
nonconformist hallelujah,
An uncompromised,
multidimensional manifestation
of faith,
Dismantling the
institutionalized, authoritarian
altars.
We sanctity the beautifully
unconventional spirit,
Our voices rising in glorious,
independent ascension.
Long distant cry, how I pine for your touch,
a bridge of one hundred miles,
gaunt gulf beyond my grasp
golden haze of blithe recall, sunlit strolls,
heartfelt pledge, under green copse,
then transfer, post abroad
your dulcet voice on phone has me weeping,
though honeysuckle laughter,
creeps in, sinks a deep root
close union fostered, we dwell, dream, at dawn,
where that gem rimmed stroke of luck,
heralds my homebound trek
post trauma absence, dwindles in a kiss,
a gleaming eye rapprochement,
velvet voice hue’d dribble
winsome weekend yet return journey lurks,
seconds fly, olympic spurts,
solemn clock a spoilsport
resume garnet glisten threads of fond blab,
sonic swathe of peachy phrase,
from a glow world era
ramble through lush haunt on a spur or spark,
where once love’s first blush blossomed,
in time pastille misty.
a gurgling swirl pool, high tide torrent now,
engulf twin flame’s scarce resource,
random swing by mood boost
catch up at lightning pace, that traffic jam,
of wistful yesterday’s dash,
oops…yikes…booked cab in yard!!
Weaving shade, nuance, deft subtle plots,
Leaving wry joke, ink commas, dots
dreams on script unfold, imbued with life,
schemes and clued-in darting figures now rife.
Taunting twist and turn in tale, pivot point,
teasing lavish scene, a buttressed hinged-joint,
matters key, core, glib, lax in broad domain,
scatters glee, sound hint, deep echo’s gold chain
Born the sixteeth of july
Neither of us then to know
The sound of a babies cry
The birth of bambino
With a little button nose
Tiny hands and tiny feet
A struggle to find clothes
Fitting him nice and neat
As he was just so minute
But born a little premature
And he is just so cute
You cant help but adore
Six weeks ,five days early
Neither of us would know
Who we named Zachary
Often called little bambino
Written july august 2015 a tribute to son zack
This original full version of bambino...was not going to out on here at time as felt personal
Saw it coming
Started running
Through the woods
As fast as I could
Evil in the mist
Making sinister hiss
Sound
Translating freedom 'going down'
Beautiful mirage arrived
No fear of going to die
Equipped with answers
From club dancers
Chit chatting away
Screaming about pay
"Ammunition I will fire
Since you seemed to of tired
Do not fear
I have a long neck beer "
Siren made clear
I watched her work
Popped the bubbly cork
After expressing wedding vows
Complementing our moonlight howls
Red Earth
Red barns
Red rooves
Hold up day time stars
Heavy summer air
Light summer rain
Family farm since 1785
How many have moved off since then
1n70 7h3 unkN0wn
4l3r7 bu7 n07 fu11y pr3p4r3d
M4rch d0wn 7h3 p47h 0f d15c0v3ry
4ng3r mu57 n07 b3 7h3r3
533k1ng 70 f1nd 7h47 50m37h1ng
Purp053fu1 411 7h3 w4y
34ch 573p 4 n3w h0r1z0n
C13ar 7h1nk1ng 70 7h3 3nd
1n57ruc710n5 7h3r3 4r3 n0n3
4 h4nd 70 c47ch y0u n0w
L00k1ng f0r 3v3r upw4rd
P34c3 4nd 53r3n17y 7h3r3
34rn1ng 7h3 r1gh7 70 533 7hr0ugh
R3450n1ng 4 1177l3 45k3w
534rch1ng 70 kn0w 7h3 4n5w3r
0p3n1ng 7h3 d00r 70 j0y
N0w 15 7h3 71m3 70 b3 r34l
Soft rock; smooth music filling the air.
A gentle nostalgia that makes thoughts wander more than usual.
A sweet presence flutters around the spectrum.
Not physically, just a simple spark of imagination, that one that turns ordinary moments into small echoes.
A good moment for the brain to daydream and float, defying the heavy gravity.
Couples coming and going, filling the sidewalks with muffled chatter that breaks the quiet one dives into.
A few laughs are coming from who knows where; nothing remarkable.
When all that passes, the surroundings become even quieter than before.
Mowing the lawn, folding the laundry, reading a little of something that one can’t quite remember now.
Simple tasks. Repetitive motions.
But beneath them, questions kept circling:
What if things had been different?
What if the timing, the courage, or fate had shifted just a little?
Would this day have felt less empty?
Less sad and nostalgic?
Nobody has an answer.
Only the music, the chores, and the quietness that sometimes aches recreate a scene of another version of this life.
Have you ever noticed the Law is a bit... peculiar?
It treats "Filthy Pigs" like they’re much, much cooler.
I’m a citizen here, not a servant or peasant,
But the way they treat "Equality" is really unpleasant.
My mistakes get a fine and a stern talking-to,
While the "Old Ones" get lunch and a nice ocean view.
I’ve thought about not voting them in anymore,
But apathy’s winning, and frankly, it’s a bore.
I’d go "underground" to escape all the taxes,
But even the afterlife probably has "death-fax-es."
Is this the world’s end? Or just Monday morning?
I feel like my ancestors gave me no warning!
The rulers don’t care if we moan or we cry,
They’re busy eating cake while the world passes by.
But hey, Mother Earth is watching this circus,
And soon the "Big Trumpet" will finally work us!
I wanted to eat with you.
You moved your plate away.
I took a different seat.
You looked at me with disgust.
Traitor.
You haven’t allowed me to live beside you.
And when I found a corner to exist.
Traitor
You asked me to speak your language.
When I learned, you mocked. Go learn yours.
Traitor.
You laughed at my clothes.
When I dressed like you
I was blamed for copying.
Traitor.
You asked me to fit in.
When I tried, got blamed for no identity.
Traitor.
I want to know
Which version of me is allowed to belong?
When you died
We wept and cried
So much you left
Inside unsaid
Buried with
Unexpressed regrets
Nothing to do with
Your grand children
You adored us
Unconditionally
Our youth our zest
Our innocence
No judging ever
Pure candid love
We gathered
When it happened
And I was the one
Who insisted
I’d sleep in your bed
I felt so privileged
Never doubting
You had visited
And kissed my head
Watched over me
Nestled there tiny in
The palm of your hand
Keeping me warm
All night till morn
AP: 1st place 2021
There are the CODES
Each Defense does have them
Disparate they are
And each does crave to crack them
Internal mechanisms
Of cryptanalysis of this
The military
Don't want peace
Because
The peace delusional
It is
Is ephemeral
Isn't rational
And doesn't solve
SO cuirios I am about how
All system this
Intends
Out of the situation
TO evolve
There was this
Inherent Resolve
And taken out of the context this
The formulation
Of the operation
Had taken us to be considering
The wiss
Of all ID of all the people of the world
This system may aquire whole profile
Of any person who commits
The crime
It's there where church is fraud
For systema of the LAW ENFORCEMENT
And thus the way they in ARMY trod
Due the INCOMPETENCE of ARMY
Celebrates the FRAUD
One day,
I’ll be able to look at you and not cry.
One day,
I’ll be able to look at you and smile.
One day,
I’ll be able to actually look at you with,
Nothing but hope.
Nothing but admiration.
Nothing but appreciation.
Nothing but gratitude.
Nothing but love.
But not today
And tomorrow might be the same.
But one day.
One day,
I’ll be able to look at you and not break down.
One day,
I’ll be able to look at you and not feel my heart breaking.
One day,
I’ll be able to look at you and say, “She’s so beautiful.”
No hurt.
No pain.
No tears.
No sorrow.
No regrets.
One day.
Last minute love,
You left me speechless in this heartless town
From high above
You left me broken and unspoken with a frown
However, you haven’t hurt my heart yet…
You haven’t hurt me with remorse and regret
It was just rebellion kind of love
Let’s face it…
It’s nothing to be ashamed of
Just fight it…
I was young and foolish…
I belong with the rest of the fish
But, this rebellion inside
Made me feel broken pride
Now, where do I hide?
With this rebellion inside?
An evanescent pasture I couldn’t find…
If you can be so kind,
Find me a foolish way to endure — I’m just so blind…
Where do I hide?
This rebellion inside?
It was just rebellion kind of love
Let’s face it…
It’s nothing to be ashamed of
Just fight it…
I was young and foolish…
I belong with the rest of the fish
But, this rebellion inside
Made me feel crucified…
I’m sorry I’m left behind
An evanescent pasture I couldn’t find…
If you can be so kind,
Find me a foolish way to endure — I’m just so blind…
Where do I hide?
This rebellion inside?
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