Tag Archives: poem

The Gift of Family

I feel ya, that’s what they say
During the evenings alone
Throughout the day

Your gone, but real
I’m here, but not
And that’s our deal

I’m blessed by you
What’s left behind
And the things to do

Your next to me reminding
Through unconditional eyes
And the love I’m finding

I’m gonna do better
From where I stand
Down to the letter

But you’ve work too
From where you stand
I’m watching you

Man to man we walk
Unseen by others
Nor hear us talk

My debt never paid
A lifetime of joy
From choices you made

Forgetting my debt
In your silence
I gather regret

Nights are a reminder
you breathe through me
And be a little kinder

But soon looms a date
A chance to remember
it’s never too late

To keep you alive
In memories I don’t have
Soon to arrive

Your debt unpaid
Entwined in my dreams
And plans we made

And in the end
Joy and happiness
Ours to send

Through eyes eternally
always sharing
The gift of a family

Advertisements

Sovereign

Folks who talk of rights have made assumption that contradict their cries of freedom. If I am sovereign rights don’t exist and your proficiency in grammar can’t change that. It’s here the crux of death for freedom breathes.

Government is the first nick in the armor of the sovereign man. Citizens need structures to their freedom. The fear of living or dying to yourself lacks the safety afforded by rules and consequences fabricated. We’ve lost the belief that life, nature, takes care of its own. Dying for another man is suddenly noble.

Religion preys on fear. The fear that replaces men looking eye to eye, but rather the fear of entities larger than yourself subverting your sovereignty for a greater good. We can’t see we are not the greater good, I “am” is the greater good.

As we dwindle as men, now we’ve become a function. No longer relying on our sovereignty. We rely on others as structures dictate. Suddenly it makes a false sense that outside of the structure you’re less, rather than whole. Now we believe there’s endeavors past our toils.

Slowly we’re in fear of our sovereignty because we’ve become accustomed to the false sense of security put forth by the structure. Inevitably they add to their structure and with each new situation your sovereignty is strangled to the point you can’t breathe alone. It’s here the real death occurs.

This point of no return leaves men with their heads bowed and knees chafed. The shackled mind believes truths that are convenient in fear of losing the very thing that’s choking them. From here death is where the bonds of society released and maybe once again you’re whole. Prepared to transcend the compromise of freedom.

It’s a fight today. A difficult balance to be sovereign, free of the traps associated with government. You must barter with your sense daily to keep the hounds at bay, because once they have you treed, the noise is deafening and there’s only one way down. All the while you unwittingly became part of the hunt.

Beware of those espousing freedom, especially yours. They may or may not know that the honor they seek is your sovereignty. Judge the field as a native and plant good seeds. Don’t become a farmer. Hunt the bush as one of the animals and forego becoming a hunter. Speak truths and peace without preaching. Most importantly, lend a hand without becoming a debtor. Even then you run the risk of becoming a part unwittingly.

Gift of Silence

The gift is old,
No longer possible
Nor shines like gold

There were moments,
Passed or played,
Not well spent

For gifts are shared
Not held
Or compared

Some you can open,
Others create,
Others spoken

It’s not the words praised
Or or objects held
For spirits raised

It’s the thought
That feels
Emotions caught

The gift of silence,
We’re understood
In just a glance

Seasons of the Heart

I used to feel more than the wind
I could hear the echo of memories
Dancing through my life
Sometimes glory, other times strife

My scorched soul lies in wait
As the summer sun mercilessly shines
Down on flesh and sand equally
Burning memories in kind

An autumn breeze becomes a scent
More than a smell, it’s a place and time
Traveling in a retrospective glance
With no reason or rhyme

Then the cold winter wind blows
touching chilling moments of pain
Freezing scenes of hope
As memories and fears wane

Then springs hope with the sounds
Of yesterday and tomorrow
The youth of thought
And the melting of sorrow

These are the seasons of my heart
Colorful and tragic in the same
Displayed for all to see
Or feel as I became

Clouded Mirror

I’ve gazed into the stream
Watched my reflection
Drift away unseen

I’ve stood in the winds of time
And watched the world pass by
Making no sense or rhyme

Ive stood in the rain
Flooded with emotion
Void of pain

I’ve see the darkness within
Through the cracks of lightening
Flashing across a soul too thin

I’ve felt the thunder in my bones
Bring back memories
Thrown like sticks or stones

I’ve become the storm to love
Riding swollen streams
Under dark skies above

Life is reciprocal in tone
Darkness for light, evil sees good
And yet I walk alone

Where is my reflection
What reveals me,
Suffers my intention

So I assimilate the sublime
Like a cloudy day
Brings memories of sunshine

To reflect is giving myself away
revealing so little
Of who I truly seek one day

Until then I’ll ride the storms
And show you who you are
Taking different paths and forms

Storm

The storm, wrestled and temporary
All around the swirling vortex of emotion, the calm sits eternally. Like a promise to believers who can see past the clouds into the heavens within us.

It’s hard to see your way to the center where silence whistles and warns of the next step. The eye is clear and light shines through a center only you can see, only you can feel. Confidently I stand knowing that just the other side of the swirling debris and dust is what’s left, life.

I must move with the winds of time avoiding the edge of chaos. The wall of thundering clouds surround this pristine space where you can feel the color of the wind and hear shapes that scream with the force of eternity, but here I’m a universe. Here I raise my heart to truth joining a legacy of humanity.

But here I’m alone. Lost to the horizon that surrounds the earth with hope and wonder. A respite from the turmoil created by lesser beasts seeking to thrive on the emotions of bowed heads and bruised knees. Death comes slow to the one defeated by fear.

Separated from the sounds of liberty and the smell of victory my words have no meaning. I must escape the sounds of silence screaming within my heart. I must walk through the fog of debris and torment into the the light of day, through the glow of night into a new day. A day of reckoning.

This demarcation is a birth. A new beginning where the past becomes silent, once again leaving now to hope for tomorrow. I only know and think what the future can be, what now will produce. I must close the book and remember throughout time that pages are a past that fade with time. A collection of privilege passed on through genetic inferiority with the hope another man will prove their indulgence was valor. Now we control truth.

So cast your lots free. Set your burdens aloft. Hold nothing but the light of day as a path through the night. Walk forward with your head held high knowing that now is forever and yesterday never is. Here you can gaze into tomorrow leaving fear and ignorance behind for the beauty of hope and truth.

Reflections of Us

Reflection across this linear existence. Beyond the cracks and scars there is an image, the man you carry into hope. Or maybe a monster you hide in the mist or fog of fear. Who is me?

This reflection protects us from ourselves, because one day the mirror won’t be enough. The distortion will fade, the illusion will dissipate into you. Only then will we understand that I is not a singular expression.

I is a prism. A tense refraction of hopes, dreams, or fears. Not now, or yesterday, nor tomorrow can define us. We are many inside broken hulls and silk threads, the world is too destructive for the illusion of freedom, too ravenous for one man.

It’s the moments hidden outside time or space that random acts of bravery hide. Legends that span the horizon never revealing their depth, looming across time for those willing to shed the cloak of humanity and shine.

Mirrors, horizons, fear; man was meant to be more than a reflection of another’s reality. Never confined to roles or robes that capture his spirit like a mirror in a dark room. That moment when the light, the mirror, and the reflection blind us with light is who we are.

It’s the hope that when all the colors and moments come together we’ll be blinded into that singular person that is the origin of us, human. Matter, memories, and moments recreating perfection, if only for a glimpse.

I hold that light as a moment in time. It reminds me that I’m you and you’re me. It reminds me that I is a luxury reserved for the silence. I is a reflection with the world looming behind me, waiting to define our moments.