Tag Archives: prose

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

Pieces, Shards, and Moments

Moments lie scattered like pieces of a broken mirror.
Reflecting shattered remnants on a dusty floor.

It’s the sharp images that cut thoughts into a fragmented one.
Meanwhile I stand fixed on how many pieces I’ve become.

It’s never been as easy as me, or I am whole.
The I’s never really have anything but others they’ve stole.

Then the exponential value of all I am leaves me to wonder.
How many are you that watch
with silent eyes asunder?

The noise is deafening with thousands of us screaming,
Screaming to be heard within the silence of dreaming

So I’m lost, there is no one voice, and now I must think in silence.
The quiet aspects we ignore
leaving certainty in suspense.

All around are noises and silent eyes, words and looks reveal
what others have in mind
to lie, cheat, or steal.

So shattered I lie, shards of me
pieced together with scars,
and reflections of hope
In memories afar.

Rhythm of the Storm

Thunder on a tin roof cancels out the patter of thick raindrops beating a content rhythm. The staccato roll of memories fill my heart with a thud. Memories of you reverberate with us.

Lightening strikes as a glimpse into yesterday through a half empty bourbon bottle. Smoke drifts lazily towards a creaking ceiling fan wobbling to it own rhythm. Tomorrow doesn’t exist and now fades with each flash of lightening, leaving darkness in its wake.

Lost, me and the world, just staring into the distance entranced in times long faded into the myst. Here becomes there and now becomes then as I drift to the rhythm of memories drumming to the beat of the storm.

Soon the rain stops and the winds carry us away to distant horizons. Drops of us break free and fall to the earth silently. We are no longer a force. The thunder rumbles in distant memories as the lightening exposes the horizon for glimpses of maybe.

Then silence screams and the bourbon swishes within the bottle bringing sleep, rest for the lonely. I drift in and out of consciousness like I did love. Then I realize I’ve nothing left to fear but dreams.

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