A frenzy of wind, a rustle of leaves
Conceived and reprieved, where are those feelings we grieve
Deprived and received, there is no feeling of at ease
With the wind we breathe, the trees our friend, oxygen provided, we gear up to defend. Our plight. Lock and loaded, ready to fight. Like justice is our right.
Against the enemy we can’t see, the problem is he, don’t you dare touch me.
Fortresses upended, with anger we sended, our lives, they’ve become suspended.
Stuck In blame and guilt. Fear of fear. Only a matter time, and we begin to wilt.
Energy drained. Life-force maimed. Can we not see that every germ evaded, is another death created?
Inside we cry, for the shelter of the minds eye, does not get to decide, he, him or I, who gets to survive, and whom may end up to die.
Living like this, we’re already sick. Fool to our own inhibitions, we sit there watching the clock, tick, tick. . waiting for life to surmise.
We’ll let me tell you something. Open your eyes, you might find a surprise.
For what’s happening around is a reflection of inside.
So quit trying to hide, drop your pride and see where you really reside.
Because to practice Honesty, is the first step, to finding peace within thee.
And then it doesn’t matter what you see, because the beauty emanates from within Me.
I have no control over the fate we plea, only my reaction to what Is to Be.
Peer to peer. Amidst our fear.
To connect. To hold our hearts dear.
This we crave; dictating how we behave.
But our tendencies deep seated, to social media we’ve retreated.
Not an idle moment can pass by, Without our minds occupied
Afraid to just sit and be
Or if I look lonely, what others will think of me
So I pretend to rush, or seem in a hurry
And in phones our heads we bury
Swipe left. Swipe right. Double click to like.
Mindlessly following the rules of the game,
Ive forgotten my original aim.
All the beautiful people are passing by
And I sit here pretending to be shy
But what would happen… if I dared to say Hi?
One by one the days sail away…
Littered by ocean mist and salty spray,
There’s a feeling in the air that seems to stay
Sunken deep into our chests;
Felt with every deep breath
Eyes drift close. The taste in our nose.
That feeling we once chose; Now we only watch how grows
Im looking for that one thing we share…
Sand in our toes. Wind in our hair.
Times of despair. A sense of care.
Inextricably linked. Admit it if you dare.
Soul to soul. Being to being.
Time once froze, it was this home, Earth, that we chose.
A Feeling is there – it’s THAT we share.
Take care of each other. It’s only fair.
Placed upon our perch, we wander this Earth
The view lacking in girth, Made up for with every new birth
He who decides to be unborn, steps into the forlorn
For the regression of what we once were, opens the door for new life to spur
A baby is conceived, although no new face is perceived
Eyes wide, it’s a new person to decide…
What to Be, and How to See
Time flies, right before our eyes
The golden suns rise; shine from way up high
Until the day dies,
When bluish tints and purple dyes give way to midnight skies
Forever continuous, there is no way to pause this
Every moment, I try to grasp; afraid it won’t last
But always escaping my hold, the days continue to grow old
My mind in constant chatter, I replay the past and imagine the future
Wondering what mattered and fearing my dreams will shatter
Everything moves so fast, all I have time to do is react
I feel out of control, for worse or for better
Until I realized, if I stay present, this moment lasts forever
In my mind’s eye there is a quiver
Through my body it sends a quiver
The message though loud and clear,
Is one I cannot hear
My senses through and tried
It is only when quieted on the inside
With me, the knowingness confides
Where am I? Who are these people?
What are we doing?
Roses are red, Violets are blue
I feel awkward, how about you?
Every friend you have was once a stranger
Lurking in shadows of danger
Of judgement and condemnation
My brow sweat w/condensation
2020 and I still fear discrimination
Because it’s not about race, creed, or religion
But the schism in our own hearts
Unable to love ourselves, so we tear others apart
Bulls-eye after bulls-eye, I connect with every dart
Causing myself to cry, because really I’m just pulling the thorn in my own eye
What a gift. To have a way with words.
Used to express and convey feelings. Point to meaning. Give ideas context.
Helpful. But never the meaning, the expression, itself.
They add an extra layer. In need of deciphering, translation. Disguising. Distracting. Misleading.
Used as tools of manipulation. Conning. Facades of false portrayals.
“A way with words” – the ability to translate truth and beauty into spoken terms OR disguise insecurities behind charm and deceit.
What a gift. To have a way with words. Until you forget to do away with words.
Real meaning – Felt. Experienced. KNOWN. Not needing to be explained. It is Understood.
Expressed in universal language.
Through locked eyes. Gazes not averted. Into souls of others, or the souls of ourselves.
Doing away with words.
There is no more misrepresentation. Conning others. Deceiving yourself.
With puns. Plays on words. It’s time to face yourself. And play onwards.
What a gift. A way with words.
Open the box. And find the greater gift.
To do away with words.
Because that is the true Present – Live in it
The winds begin to gust
Covering the roads in a snowy dust
With each snow shovel thrust
I fuel my wanderlust
The sky blanketed in white
Well, that defines my plight
Not able to see what lies beyond here
Beckons the source of my Fear
My lungs filled with chilled air
I lose myself in a far off stare
The icy snow encrusts my hair
As I wonder what’s out there
With each snow scoop and shovel
I see further into my trouble
I say I want to run wild and free
But I welcome my comfort and security
My locks now frozen over
I call upon my inner rover
Leaving everything I once knew
I’m going. Without you
Running/Shoveling across the World: Childhood Home in Middletown, NJ
It started for the joy.
Pre-run excitement. Mid-run bliss. Post-run ecstasy.
These feelings fuled my motivation.
But I began to expect myself to run.
To log miles. To hit times. To set paces.
Meeting these expectations becsame my motivation.
It’s what drove me out the door.
I got lost in these expectations.
Until I forgot why I run.
I forgot amidst anxiety.
Angst of “needing” to run.
Guilt of missing a day.
Regret of running too slow.
Fear of failing to meet MY expectations.
Surfing reminded me.
The adrenaline. The bliss. The joy.
I stopped runnning.
And then I started again.
With NO expectations.
For the Love.
Of Myself. Of Nature. Of the people I run with.
For the Joy.
Run…Surfing Across the World?: Canggu Beach in Bali, Indonesia