Wednesday, December 21, 2011

several breaths of composure

a fedora cannot fix the second world war
but I cannot wear one, so I will wear the other
my candid, simple life of flowers and lattes
compresses my nerves and steals my nerve
suddenly every day is sunny days
when my wrist bears tattoos instead of shackles
when my waist is round with booze
instead of shackles
fucking curse words that don't mean a damn thing
sometimes we're just really mean
sometimes it's a crapshoot and the house laughs and smiles
and says that's alright, this never happens, I'm not afraid
let's not worry about it
everyone is rich tonight and sometimes everyone should feel this way


I wait on people for a living
as they make up their minds
until they smile back at me
for my cue to say you are welcome

I write down thoughts as words
as I sort through my mind
until the words smile back at me
and take orders like script from God

I believe in muses and the divine
I know
a life isn't composed of skin or bones
A poet
isn't composed of words or thoughts
We are
the muse and the divine, we are composing

Sunday, December 11, 2011

A Poem: A Mantra

I hurt for those I have hurt
But as they heal, I too will heal
I pray in thanks to those who pray
And accept forgiveness
From those who forgive

I find strength in their strength
I know love through their love
I can see myself in their path
I can find my own path
Knowing they have led the way