poem

unaccountably we are aloneforever aloneand it was meant to bethat way,it was never meantto be any other way__nd when the death strugglebeginsthe last thing I wish to seeisa ring of human faceshovering over me__etter just my old friends,the walls of my self,let only them be there.I have been alone but seldomlonely.I have satisfied my thirstat the wellof my selfand that wine was good,the best I ever had,and tonightsittingstaring into the darkI now finally understandthe dark and thelight and everythingin between.peace of mind and heartarriveswhen we accept whatis:having beenborn into thisstrange lifewe must acceptthe wasted gamble of ourdaysand take some satisfaction inthe pleasure ofleaving it allbehind.cry not for me.grieve not for me.readwhat I__e writtenthenforget itall.drink from the wellof your selfand beginagain.Mind and Heart

The world of light and starry grace;within your mind I live to trace.Your thought__ speed in thunder__ glory,lightening my being with dream__ story.I embrace the tree carrying your nameYour unspoken wish : the heart of fame.

When you become a raindrop in your mind Thunder is the closest friend you may find Wind lashed trees, dark clouds, lightning or the dust Everything you will bear once you adjust

the mind is a treasuretrove, an almanac, a tomb.

If your mind can move mountainsand swallow gods,Why does it worry with helpless yesterdays and unborn tomorrows?If it can vomit starsand walk on split hairs,Why must it follow the samepath to despair?Everyone will tell you:'An orgasm here is just as good.

Gone are the summer daysand my mind along with them.No longer will I indulgein hopes of getting you back.It is hope that makes these chains heavierand autumnal nights longer.I will merely serve as a memory to you:the lover that recited love poems.I must go nowand I urge you not to look back.

...now open your mind by closing your eyessee the unseen world within you which liesFrom the poem 'The Unseen World

To storm, a mind, it must be balanced,by what can't be it must be challenged...

May be its mine bad-luck Or yours not to get me But I still have hope Of being yours

PartingOne is strong, a child now grownThe other weak, a parent aged-The strong once feebleThe weak once mighty-Time, the infinityhas marked them...

Butterfly KissesAged imperfectionsstitched upon my faceyears and years of wisdomearned by His holy grace.Quiet solitude in a humble homeall the family scattered nowlike nomads do they roam.Then a giftsent from abovea memorypure and tangiblewrapped in innocence andunquestioning love.A butterfly kisslands gently upon my cheekfrom an unseen childa kiss most sweet.Heaven grants graceand tears followas youth revisitsthis empty hollow.

Soul SisterEvoking all my inner goodnesswith bastions of timeI cradle your heartsisterly into mine...

Scenes from the PlayroomNow Lucy with her family of dolls Disfigures Mother with an emery board, While Charles, with match and rubbing alcohol, Readies the struggling cat, for Chuck is bored. The young ones pour more ink into the water Through which the latest goldfish gamely swims, Laughing, pointing at naked, neutered Father. The toy chest is a Buchenwald of limbs. Mother is so lovely; Father, so late. The cook is off, yet dinner must go on With onions as her only cause for tears She hacks the red meat from the slippery bone, Setting the table, where the children wait, Her grinning babies, clean behind the ears.

A short poem from my new book, The Lost Journal of my Second Trip to Pergatory, Thorny CrownsOf course the gold one was for special occasions, weddings, etc,silver for family reunions, office-casual type affairs.Bronze was a everyday choice; during yard work its burnished surface shone in sunlight.There were various colors and holiday appropriate ones.I could never find the hatboxes they were stored in.But the wooden one was reserved for the long suffering caused by family.Stevie__ funeral, my hospital trips and sister__ rebellion rated real wood. One tip filed extra sharp produced a fine and dramatic line of blood droplets on her brow.

I remember our childhood dayswhen life was easyand math problems hard.Mom would help us with our homeworkand dad was not at home but at work.After our chores, we__ go to the old fort museum with clips in our hair and pure joy in our hearts.You, sister, wore the bangles thatyou, brother, got as a prize from the Dentist.__hy the bangles?_ the Dentist asked, surprised, for boys picked the stickers of cars instead.__hey__e for my sisters,_ you said.Mom would treat us to a bottle of Coke,a few sips each. Then,we__ buy the sweet smelling bread from the same white vanand hand-in-hand,we__ walk to our small flat above the restaurant.I remember our childhood days.Do you remember them too?

ArtifactAs long as I can remember you kept the rifle--your grandfather's an antique you called it-in your study, propped against the tall shelvesthat held your many books. Upright,beside those hard-worn spins, it was anotherbackbone of your pas, a remnant I studiedas if it might unlock-- like the skeleton keyits long body resembled-- some door i had yetto find. Peering into the dark muzzle, I imagined a bulletas you described: spiraling through the boreand spinning straight for its target. It did not hit methen: the rifle I'd inherited showing mehow one life is bound to another, that hardshipendures. For years I admired its slender profile,until-- late one night, somber with drink--you told meit still worked, that you kept it loaded just in case,and I saw the rifle for what it is; a relicsharp as sorrow, the barrel hollow as regret.

There should ne__r be a timeWhen a duty or dimeDoth outshineThe importance of family.

Choices! Choices!! Choices!!! I have chosen love over hate.I have chosen faith over fears.I have chosen courage over cowardice.I have chosen strength over weakness.I have chosen positive thinking over negative thoughts.