Barking Up My Tree
Don’t take me seriously, please
Take me with a grain of sandstone
A geologic sediment of inter-galactic sludge
Take my human heart and see the contradictions
Look inside my head and see the trains of thought explode
The flights of hypocrisy that cross in convolution and ignorant
Boxes that won’t open with logical keys
Oh please, don’t take me
I am of a species that will not adhere to the rules of a literal wit
So just sit back and relax and enjoy the show
Admission is free with an open mind.
The Iranian Girl
There’s a hole in the ground
A moving of earth, now made
A sad depression
Where once she played in
Splashing with the joy that comes
From child-like feet
The sound is still here
In the air, the breeze yet carrying
The secret laughter
That haunts the waking hours of those
Who’ve lost the way
How vain to think that
Memory can be erased
All will remember
No one escapes
I wonder if she saw it
The moment before
Her hair still flying free
The metal catching that last
Pure glint of sun
Did she hear the explosion
That made no sense
Did she feel
Her body come apart
And fall like dust, too soon
Does anyone ask
Whatever she felt, whatever she dreamed
Her dreaming time is gone
And no lofty word of God or
Glory will ever make it right
Dare to listen and you will
Dare to open your eyes and see
The Iranian girl
Like you, like me.
A Prayer for the Dying
Every day admit me
Into the portal of the
Allow me to feel
The sublime majesty of life
The sanctity of relationship
The beauty of Earth
Breathe into this poor undeserving frame
An immortal telling
A lasting consequence
Give me the power
Ode to an Endangered Species
Will you not leave us here too long
We have not paid attention
To squander the best of the world
A pity we do not understand
No more you fly in the wind
No more the buoyant ripples on a pristine pool
The splash of color in a worn-tore land
The survivor’s sad lament
Yet no weeping will there be when
Your perfect, singular form
The muted salting of a wounded Earth
And all that is and all that ever was will
In some way be
For the loss, though unnoticed
Will be recognized
In the stillness of eternal night.
Ahead of His Time
The artist born ahead of his time
Will see no reward, no glory, no fame
Alone with his demons
He wrestles to the death.
Van Gogh was
They said a madman a lunatic no doubt
Only brother Theo could glimpse
Who he was
And brother love pulled
Spirit through fire
With paint, brushes a kind word and a coin or two
Young Vincent held on
To see the dying of the world
Sweating in the fields hot burning sun hour upon hour
Life’s mad beauty
The trees are alive and stars shake the heavens
Put out your eyes and see!
Cut off your ears and hear!
In a tiny room
Poor, dirty wretch
Light slips through the door
All that love
All that blood poured out
The artist born ahead of his time
Must die ahead of his time too.
Starry, starry wonderful night
Life and death are the stuff of dreams
It is painted ‘cross the sky
Light years ago
A star burned out
Far, far away
And only now
After millions of years
And millions of miles
That dying light
Reaches our eyes.
New Bottom Line
I’m not a communist, I’m not a socialist, I’m an ethical capitalist.
Is that an oxymoron?
Is it possible to be a salesman or a businessman
Or, to put it more simply
Would anyone buy a used car if you told them the truth?
These are difficult questions.
But shouldn’t someone be asking them?
We’ve raised our children to compete
The dollar is the prize
All is fair in love and—just about everything else.
So is it any wonder the field is littered with losers?
The profit motive works. No question about that.
The problem is
Greed is the knife that stabs deep in the backs of one’s fellows.
Self-interested profit for the few too often
Reaps untold suffering for the many
The community of Humankind is laid low in shame
The harmonic balance of the Earth is
Where are the visionaries to lead the world?
Powerful and influential men and women who see a
Future inclusive of all
Those who understand
A dollar lost here and a dollar lost there
Is a victory not a defeat
When brothers and sisters and children yet unborn
Remember with gratitude
The painful sacrifice
And honor the difficult
Is it possible?
Of course it is.
Life is evolving.
New generations recognize
Money is just a plaything
The new bottom-line is