May 3: Love Song

Love Song

Time’s special with you:  You, a dream coming true,

And now you’re here to love, I love you.

Fantasies I’ve often had seem close to turning real.

But more than their fulfillment are the waves of what I feel,

As their rising to your shore brings their emergence.

Time’s special with you; you, my awakening.

To share my darkest years with you is heaven,

For the joy in your receptiveness has turned my lead to gold.

Spring flowers, blooming everywhere, are wonder to behold,

And everything is wonderful when you are here beside me.

I see you as desirable, yet I would not have that block

The light of authenticity; the truth of all we are.

Though life may leave its battle scars, we understand each other.

We’ve set our sights on different stars, but I choose you as my lover:

Your existence plants a seed in me, and that’s my joy in you.

You’re coming all the way with me!  I want you at my side,

And plot a new trajectory that joins our separate dreams,

Searching in our hearts if it’s the will of the divine

All ways to be your inspiration, you forever mine.

I offer all that’s precious in my heart!        

You’ve given me your love, but is yours like mine for you?

Anyway, there’s one more thing I ask:

Let freedom’s song live in us as long as we’re together.

I would never want to lose you, but I would not have that block

The rise of new relationships: Wild flowers upon the earth.

I would choose no separation from the Life that gives us birth!

Time’s special with you; you amaze me like the sky!

I am enchanted by the beauty of your gestures.

You’ve opened up a portal to the playground in my mind,

And as I pass into your world, I’m intrigued by what I’ll find.

I feel as though a child again.  You’ve brought a new beginning.

Changing and unfolding, and supported in our trust,

We know that life can never stay the same,

We may give ourselves to others as we find the need is there

Knowing we’re together, and it’s part of how we care

Expanding Me through our conjunction. We both unfurl with time.

You more than fill my emptiness;

With all my heart, I love you!

May 2: Aunt Leta

Aunt Leta

People collectively make up society,

And pass through their phases, each in its stage.

You’ve lived as you’ve lived in piety,

But you’ve finally reached the age

That whatever you’ve gained to keep or to show,

You can hardly use it, so you let it go.

You’ve appointed your favourite niece

To be the person in charge of your care.

All you want now is to live in peace.

You don’t make proposals or ask if it’s fair

That you’re no longer taken where you once liked to go,

And what she’s planning for you, you don’t want to know.

Your niece is putting your house up for sale,

And all your possessions must be passed along.

Got to pay what’s required as your health starts to fail.

Got to keep you safe, because you’re not that strong,

And from what you are losing, someone else is in luck.

He has hauled your belongings away in his truck.

(Chorus)

Some say reality is all in your mind.

Some say it’s only what you happen to find.

Some say you must grasp it or it leaves you behind.

I say, “Make the best of your bundle of clay,

Knowing that time will take it all away.”

When your husband died, you could hardly proceed.

Full of ideas, you missed some practical essentials.

You’d always  preferred to sit and read,

Just a book away from all of your potential!

It’s almost as if you’ve left to fate

What took you your life to accumulate,

Your books are a mirror of civilization.

Oh, but who takes the time to read any more?

Too many words!  Too much complication,

And what are you going to use it for?

Life is a treasure, and we take what we find,

And share what we can of what sticks to the mind.

Which is always more than anyone can carry,

Inevitably there is much that is lost.

If it’s only in storage, it’s as well as if it’s buried.

If it isn’t used, it’s eventually tossed. . .

You might find it again at a rummaging store,

Or collect the pieces washed up on the shore.

Chorus

Some say reality is all in your mind.

Some say it’s only what you happen to find.

Some say you must grasp it or it leaves you behind.

I say, “Make the best of your bundle of clay,

Knowing that time will take it all away.”

May 1: About Idolatry

About Idolatry

The prophets rage against idolatry,

And it sounds like an indictment on art.

Perhaps it degenerates to commercial frivolity,

But It’s a focus for the mind and the heart.

Icons have place in spirituality.

The main issue is how they are used:

Do they suggest a joined plurality?

Are the idol and its object confused?

Is it about transcendence, or focused on self?

Is it a road map to thought, or mirrored desire?

Does it glorify power and transient wealth?

Is it steeped in the fear of a flood or a fire?

Is it a commissioned image of the status quo?

Or does it flow from a shamanic vision?

Is the picture to be copied, or allowed to grow?

Do they disclose ideals in our human condition?

In the days of yore, it was a fight for survival.

Each group had its myths.  Each group had its strictures.

We may still cling to idols, like the cross, or the Bible

Instead of growing from the truths that took root in the scriptures!

It just isn’t important that we all agree,

Or that we adhere to the same names and words.

Let the awe of Life’s grandeur bring us down to our knees,

So we’ll see past assumptions that are often absurd,

That the voice of the Spirit may be spoken and heard!

April 30: Let's Begin on the Streets Where We Are

Let’s Begin on the Streets Where We Are

Don’t show me your ladder that doesn’t make sense!

I could never abide by your rules!

It belongs in some other place; over the fence --

But I live in a culture of indigents

In a web of so many incidents,

And the life of these streets is our school!

In truth, there is much I would wish to achieve,

But I’ve got to begin where I am.

I am not the lost sheep that you want to perceive.

I have much to offer, and much to receive.

I am meant to be here:  That’s what I believe.

Your deferred success is a scam!

It is logical, but boxed in by convention.

I won’t let you predict which way I will turn.

You live by procedures.  I live by invention.

You work with axioms.  I work with exceptions.

When little is sure, it’s about perceptions.

Nothing proscribed, but there’s instincts to learn!

You find a library where you’re free from distraction.

I find a park, where I hang with my buddies!

Can’t back away from the interactions.

Everyone seeking their own satisfaction.

We get some ideas, and then we take action.

Workability’s what I’m out to study!

Death may surround us!  We’re the life of the city.

We’re bound to fall, but we know how to roll.

We don’t all talk straight, or look very pretty.

It’s cold sometimes, and sometimes it’s gritty.

It’s all a challenge to creativity,

Though there are barriers that take their toll -

Like the harsh and arrogant attitudes

Of drowning souls who are too quick to judge,

So whatever we say will be misconstrued.

Some walk in a daze, completely unglued.

Others - belligerent - are downright rude -

Too set in their thinking to budge.

Some fall into drugs and alcohol.

Others think ‘til they go insane.

They feel they’re surrounded by a thousand walls,

Or out on the sea in a screaming squall.

An onlooker tells you to get on the ball.

They go home, but you’ll still remain!

The point’s well taken that you must pay attention

When your world has no lock or key!

Folks won’t always cop to your best intentions.

Sometimes, in the game, there’s no room for pretensions.

Some of my friends have ended up in detention:

What you get when you’re feeling too free!

Every night, we make a collection.

We buy some brewskies and make us a meal.

We’re all of us there for each other’s protection.

There’s no insurance if we get an infection.

We rarely get more than some manly affection,

But sometimes, you gotta say what’s your deal.

You talk about discipline:  So uptight.

It takes all of my focus to remain here and now!

I live your descriptions of black and white.

We follow our dreaming all day and all night.

Still, sometimes our hopes seem to drift out of sight.

We’re swimming, but we don’t know how.

Yes, I need just a little stability.

This street life just tears me apart.

There’s ways to do things.  I need the facility.

Wanna think things out, but I’ve lost the ability.

I try to be strong, but I feel life’s fragility.

I need to heal what’s obstructing my heart!

But don’t show me your ladder that doesn’t make sense!

I could never abide by your rules!

It belongs in some other place; over the fence --

But I live in a culture of indigents

In a web of so many incidents,

And the life of these streets is our school!

April 29: Homelessness - 3 and 4

III.

A shelter could be a safe place to stay,

Or a cesspool of drugs and crime.

All the best shelters are out of the way:

And make sure to be there on time!

And don’t you expect to get much sleep!

For breakfast, it’s grits and an egg.

You better carry what you want to keep.

When you run out of money, you’ll  beg!

You stay out on the streets.

You meet  up with some goon,

And it’s $80 a week

If you want your own room!

Choose between working and something to eat.

Choose between hustling and just working tired.

Choose between planning and the law of the street.

Who can find in these struggles one thing to admire?

I wound up in a seedy neighborhood,

Afraid to carry what’s left of my cash,

And not doing anyone a bit of good.

My clothes are somebody’s trash.

I couldn’t open up a bank account

With my license is from out of state.

With no local address, and so small and amount . . .

I can work it, but I’ve just got to wait.

IV

I am angry.  I’m tired.

i don’t see much enjoyment.  

Work a week and get fired.

Can’t collect unemployment.

I’ll get something cheap to shake up my brain;

Let me dream!  Let me find a new vision!

It’s worth it if it lets me numb my pains,

Or if it helps me to feel my condition!

An officer tells me to get on the move.

A friend says I’m wasting away.

I’m asking myself what I’m trying to prove

By just living from day to day!

Now the question I’m asking -- is “how shall I love?”

What have I to offer my friends?

To see such decay, and rise above it,

Until all of it’s put to an end?

I painted a picture of a ghetto scene;

I quoted an appropriate scripture.

I learned what I could from the places I’ve been.

I ask where people stand in this picture!

I’ve handed out blankets; adopted a pet;

Asked the Mayor to come up with a plan!

I try to surmise what it takes to get set.

I assist where I feel that I can!

Still, I’m trying to be my own best friend!

I want to hook up with a girl!

While I haven’t spare time, I still like to pretend

I can go out and save the world!

The question I’m asking is “Where is the love

When we’re struggling so hard to survive:

So much destruction to rise above, . . .

And be ALIVE amongst the alive!

April 28: Homelessness - 1 and 2

Homelessness

I

These are my brothers

By the soup kitchen door.

Most, and many others,

Are just, plain, and poor.

There’s a young, handsome fella

Who seems a bit subdued.

He doesn’t fuss or beller

When he’s waiting on his food.

But someone’s yelling at the door

With rights he’s got to defend.

The people in the line ignore it

As they do their best to blend.

There’s not a lot to talk about.

Who can you find to trust?

We’ve seen so much pity, fear, and doubt,

False kindness or frank disgust.

Even to myself, I’m another unknown

In the sprawl of this southern city.

But, we all of us have our own kind of alone,

And I wonder who’s really to pity!

Yes, we all of us know rejection!

We all have met with a wall!

I just wonder how we can build that connection

That promises hope for us all!

II

I had heard of the new growth in industry.

I thought, “Yes, there I’ll awaken my dreams!”

Knowing there would be no guarantee,

But adventure was bursting its seams!

“I’ll go where the winters are warm,"

My eyes upon housing construction,

Along with an ever-expanding swarm,

Who had made the same deduction.

“You wouldn’t fit here,” snorted the snob.

“We’ll call you,” blew off the bureaucracy.

“We’ll wait a few weeks to fill this job.”

“You need a background,” intones the technocracy.

So I parked myself at a Labor Pool,

Toughing it out at that minimum wage,

Though my employer treats me like some kind of fool,

When he’s only half my age!

Now I’ve got no phone, and no transportation.

It makes the hunt for work, at best, inefficient.

I must laugh when I’m asked about my real vocation:

I’m just trying to be self-sufficient.

Stumbling home at the end of the day,

My clothes are just reeking with dirt.

I’d get out of this place if I knew the way;

If I wasn’t so lonely and hurt!