Selected Silence

Selected Silence

If a Buddhist monk falls in Myanma Naingngandaw
And Chairman of the State Peace and Development Council
Smashes cameras and lets no sound out of the country
Do the NCGUB still cry for change?
If a women in the jungle Bukavu villages of Congo stops screaming
Will anyone know it’s still rape?
If a Hutu is born is it genetic that they hate and will grow up
To kill a Tutsi?
If a refugee camp in Durfar is overrun by the painted white Janjaweed trucks
And al-Bashir double-speaks about someday soon
Do the Fur, Zaghawa, and Massaleit ethnic groups still die?
If a Kikuyu is hunted down with rocks and an ax
Can he love his neighbor Kalenjin?
When a Shi'ite joins the militia to wipe out the past of Sunni domination
Does it make a ripple in the number of who’s dead?
If the US waterboards someone who dies
And the tapes are destroyed
Does any admit that it’s torture?
If a father from Detroit dies early because they have no health insurance
Is it mass murder or mass indifference or neglect?
A child’s eyes tears up, but they’re silent
For fear of retribution
Their burn marks are covered so as not to cause
Suspicion
And what don’t we hear that happens
With denied plausibility?
The sirens wail in our dark night
And it’s not the all-clear signal
What do we hear that crashes us on the rocks?
What don’t we hear that eats at our beings?
Who is listening to the cries of our mothers?
My ears are defended from the decibels of the afflicted
My eyes glaze over from the sheer numbers of the dead
And the missing
I can’t comprehend the suffering
I find no path that is not screaming to be heard or
Littered with the fallen
We can only start and comfort one voice at a time
And raise our voices to be heard by those causing this voice of silence

A Day at the Beach, Night under the Eclipsed Moon

Blue-green, emerald-azure water
Drinks at the white shore
Quartz-crystal reflects in passing moments
Blazing sunshine
The wind whispers a melody whose
Notes come from a past
As the sand dunes’ grasses change them into a song
Of the future
A young couple with searching fingers for each other’s
Hands, electric touch
A young mother sits watching her son
Build his sandcastle at the edge of the receding surf
It’s gleaming parapets daring the tide
An old man leaves three tracks behind him
And smiles down on the boy
Seeing both the past and possibilities
Like dolphins swimming between the waves
I was told that I was not tall enough
But I reached for the sky
They told me that I was too small
But I fit inside my skin
I was told that I wasn’t tough enough
But I fended off their slings and arrows
They told me that I wasn’t smart enough
But I could put one foot in front of the other
Each challenge, each test, each moment
Is another defining event
I’ve not yet reached every goal
But I’ve seen the gold of the sunshine
The strength of an eagle in flight
The sparkle of a gem in hand
The growth of an idea becoming reality
The beauty in your eyes

Thursday

He felt the eyes on him when he woke up
He heard little doors opening
By the time he finished his coffee he could
See the little demons coming out of the walls
And they were throwing little pebbles and weaving
The strands
Of doubt, insecurity, discouragement, hopelessness, intimidation,
apprehension, worry...
Within the hour
He was being pelted by their stones
As the little demons grew and laughed at him
He was anchored to his chair by
The strands of fear, dread, despair, horror, terror...
Woven into a net
Of ropes
He felt the bonds of Gulliver
By noon the demons were larger than life
Beating him with boulders of dejection and loss
He sat staring wide-eyed into the void of himself
A tear ran down his cheek
One drop of hope to turn the mountain into sand
Tomorrow, he would close their eyes
And keep the portal shut

The Six Pathways

An adult daughter brings her failing father to the doctor
The news is not good
He’s loosing his nervous system to disease
He soon will loose his sight and hearing
Then his sense of smell and taste
And his sense of touch will falter and he’ll lapse into a coma
Tears run down her cheeks as she weeps for him
The man comforts her and says:
“Dry your tears and don’t weep for me
I’ve seen the most marvelous of sights
The golden sunsets over the ocean
Where the clouds are painted in colors that stay painted on
The inside of your eyes
I watched your mother, pure beauty in motion
As she danced with abandon and joy in her existence
I’ve seen mathematical equations come true
And watched man walk on the moon
But I’ve seen the horrors of our science unchecked
Destroying forests and melting human endeavors as well
I’ve heard the music of the quiet star filled night
Standing outside of a field and hearing corn grow
As the cicadas serenaded, calling to mate
I’ve listened to the rain as it’s made the grass sing
And I’ve marveled at operas and heard the soaring ‘I’ve got a dream’
I was there when you sang in grade school and
Heard the joy of you as a child singing because you could
And we laughed together – and there is no better sound
Then the laughter of joy from a child
I’ve heard the cries of the oppressed and growl of hungry bellies
The wailing of a mother whose lost her child
I’ve smelled the deep musk of the garden and the earth in spring
When all is renewed
The scent of your mother as she readied for her day
The early morning flowers sending their aromas to the wind
Calling for the bees to come
I’ve been on the field of battle when the corpses are lined up
Sending one last message to the world of how we’re all corruptible
That scent of decay
I’ve worked the garbage dumps and smelled the wastes of man
I’ve tasted the fine meals made with your mother’s best ingredient
Love
I’ve had chocolate melt on my tongue and swilled fine wines in
My mouth
I’ve tasted victory and defeat
And dined on crow because of the evil that flowed from me
I’ve felt the touch of your mother
And walked hand in hand with you
Feeling your small hand hold on to me as walked on our way
I’ve touched silk and wood feeling their beauty and strength
I’ve felt the richness of the soil
And the parchment skin of a fallen friend
I’ve touched death and now it’s death’s turn to touch me
So don’t weep, dry your tears
I live on in the songs of your daughter
In the coded messages she sings about her experiences
Five of six paths may fade but I still have one
This full contact sport we call life
Can have my senses but it shall not take my memories
Or what lies beneath
It can not recall where I’ve been and what
I am”

In Defense of Older Men

Looking at the little streams cascade down your back
I slowly brush the beads away
With both hands
And gently shampoo your hair
Stroking each handful
And soap your slender neck
As it leans back towards me
Gliding my hands over your shoulders
As they move under my fingers
I lowly sing “Positively 4th Street”
Rubbing your arms and reaching around to cup
Your breasts
Feeling their energy
Moving my hands over your smooth belly
I feel your backward’s embrace
Knowing that there is nothing better than this moment
And wetly kissing you between the shoulder blades
Letting the hot water run over both of us

Revel- ation

I revel in the skin that I’m in
Define myself by what I am and not
What I am not
This sagging bag of water that I call a body
Is my means to go where I can
Like the bar of soap sitting in the dish
It no longer is large and solid, but
Small and soft
Still, it is the essence that once made it desirable
It still cleans and offers that past whiff of what it was
I’ve been listening to Sir Paul
And I do need more silly love songs
As I sing with all of this craggy voice
And the notes that I can no longer hit, I just sing the louder
Even though I’ve become more like Statler and Waldorf
They are happy and satisfied being coggy old grumps
Sitting in their balcony on the side
Commenting on the absurdity of the players
I sing in my cogginess, I am a happy grump
I will watch the blue sky and not look for clouds
And the rain that puddles behind the wall should amuse me
Laughter dances easily on my lips
And I pass it along to you
I don’t feel like a poor excuse for anything
And this large glass of vodka helps

Warmth of Laughter

The cold shadows of the past play across the floor
Dancing pale gray in mirror images
Low
Like the bit of melody of some long lost song
As I remember the whispers of your voice
Sliding over my memory like the wind
Plays across the summer grass
Gently bowing their heads
Reaching for the sun
I try again to drink deeply the draft from your eyes
Seeing into the strengths and sorrows of your soul
Feeling the warmth of your laughter
I hold that memory tightly
Move on, move on
The effort the day outweighs my resources
Does an oak tree need to be true to its nature
Or does it really want to be a maple tree
Or a blade of grass singing in the wind?
What bird or fish is confused by what it is?
Walt I hear you
I try and go forth each day and become
Attempting to be what I am inside my head
Defined by the double helix that I am
Just be
I want to reach out and touch your hand
Feeling the warmth of unconditional love
Entwined in your fingers
It’s long past time to create more than new memories
And dispel the shadows
I dance to the notes of laughter I’ve not yet heard
Reaching for shadows not yet there
In new moments creating new resources

Just Another Day In Paradise

This transient frame of atoms
Spinning around each other in a random
Accident
I know that on some level I’m mainly space
With limited bits with the possibilities of being
A collection of carbon molecules bumping into one
Another
The hawk screams that it is tired of tranquil isolation
Longing for a noisy party
Of people spinning around one another
Speaking words forgotten as they leave the mouths
Of babes
The killer trying to look innocent stood by the side of the road
It was a hot airless humid night
That starshine could not penetrate
Time showed on her face like waves in deep sea
And she was moist and damp beneath her clothes
She felt in her purse for the cold oily comfort of her gun
He was driving home after a town meeting
To reduce their carbon footprint
He saw her just in the edge of his car’s headlamps
Stopping to give her a lift
Some mistakes are worse than others
She shot him from behind blowing his face off into a field
And took his twenty-three dollars
And his car
Placing one foot in front of the other I try to move forward
I have such small feet it’s a wonder that I can stand
At all
Man, I have to stop drinking so much coffee
Late at night

Groundhog Day 2008

Another bad back blues day
Vacuuming with a cane to stay upright
But at least I am upright
Cleaning the bathroom mirror hoping for a better
Image
But this not so beautiful mask looking back
At me from beyond
Seems old and beat-up and ugly and sagging
But at least my insights are perfect
Old joke
Stepping outside for a smoke
Someone has taken my beer-bottle ashtray
I hope they don’t try and drink it
The ice crystals on the mudflow
Reflect the early morning sun
Silvery shiny coat flecks on the dark dead dirt
Not the Jack Frost of childhood playing patterns
On the windows creeping across the glass
Our windows to the world
Full of optimisms
I remember the safety cone protecting the pothole
Road crews come out once a week to check it
Making sure that the cone is still safe
Maybe it’s chooky day on the African continent
Poor chookies are being trampled and crumbled
By herds of us heading in some direction
With no cones to protect them
I can no longer cry out in pain
Just whimper
Oh well, time to scrub the floors
At least I don’t need a cane to do that
I’m closer to the ground in so many ways
I hope that damn rodent doesn’t see his shadow
But I hope the same thing every year
And after all what is there if there is not hope
Well, maybe a cold beer on a hot day

Short Forms

Short forms
Quiet storms
Slowly building
Furrows tilling
Mounding sounds
Love abounds
Listing sideways
Two-lane byways
Give and take
Too hard to fake
Open forms provide me with my voice and breath
However, that doesn’t mean I don’t hear the patterns
Of other lilting songs swilling abundantly around
Like the songs of the majestic forest tall trees
They resonate in and excite my synapses
Just standing on the floor of this cathedral, in awe
And being the better person for having this experience
Thanks to all who have let me walk down these pathways
And hear this marvelous music