Carrying Peace on My Shoulders

Dizzying Compression
Independently Orbiting eyes
Pressing against
my Forehead
Like kernels of Corn
About to Pop
Into full
Golden-white splendor

Aches & Pains
Fevers, chills
Leaving Now
Their subtly Unequivocal
Memento Mori
Like a weeklong’s
The meditation bowl’s
My vulnerability
To self-fugue’s
Ecstasies and Afflictions

Having known
In Erin’s
Denying reality
Of Self-Evasion
Like unpaid taxes
The IRS is sure to come aknockn’
We eventually learn
Not to repeat our mistakes

In the moment
In the world
To which I belong
Feeling it’s a Good
And Right place
With conspicuously
Less Retreat
Intermittent Foray
Into Camps
of Workable joy & Cradling melancholy

A place in heaven
Here on Earth
Feels like the world’s Peace
Is Sitting on my Shoulders

These Are The People I love

I love the people
With whom I feel free
To experience
My deepest pain
For these are the people
With whom I feel free
To express
My Abandoned Joy

I love the people
With whom I feel free
To reveal
My unmasked fears
For these are the people
From whom I feel free
To gather
Strength and
Unflappable confidence

I love the people
With whom I feel free
To cry
An abundance of tears
For these are the people
With whom I feel free
To bellow
In Raucous laughter

I love the people
With whom I feel free
To roar
Like a lion my anger
For these are the people
With whom I feel free
To snore Gently
In dreamless Slumber

I love the people
With whom I feel free
To live
My life with genuity
For these are the people
From whom I Dread Leave
In the looming
Abyss Of Goodbye

Tired Old Friends, Coconuts and Hurricanes Have A Lot To Teach Us

Tired of Tired Old Friends
Resisting change and life
No matter how taut by Inflammation And Dried by alcohol And cigarettes And cocaine their Voices and nasal Passages become

No matter how much they resent their Partners, parents, children, the Economy,
For their unrealized Dreams,
Their boredom and sense of Feeling Untethered, unloved by life

No matter how encumbered they find Themselves by their inner discord, Disorder, Refuse, frustration, Disappointment,
Living in a barrel Alongside Diogenes
Seems to be lost on
Tired Old Friends
No matter how much notice
Life gives them about the urgency to Evolve

Like a category 5 hurricane
Charging directly into the wide flat Middle
Only disintegration results
When Tired Old Friends repudiate life’s Terms
With a rigid stance

Much better to be a coconut palm
That gives against mighty Gale Force Winds
To ensure its survival to
Live another day of possibilities

Fear of Vulnerability

“You may grow anxious if you believe that someone is trying to control you in some way. But your fear might be based on the realization that you don’t have all the answers today. Instead of acting with false bravado or using smooth words to impress others, be honest and show your vulnerability. Oddly enough, admitting what you don’t know opens the door to real intimacy and stronger relationships.”

Horoscope for: 2/28/13, from:
The Daily Horoscope iPhone App

Fearing dearth of information
States my daily divination
O mighty cause of consternation
Vain attempts at obligation
Of my own omnisciation

To feign control,
Largesse of sagesse
Amongst other pirouettes
My greying head
passing ripe
Implodes like my bunching fingers
Into a fist
Or pops like corn
On funeral pyres
Of prideful indignation

Like Ed Sullivan:
“Ladies and gentlemen,
It is with pleasure that
I now release to you:
My fear-hewn pride !”

Do I fear being controlled at the points in my life when I feel most unsure about my next move, perhaps?????

It feels vulnerable not to know.

Escape and Pterodactyls in The Supermarket at Sandornam

Pushing past compulsion
To visit a favored cocoon
A place called Dbar
I circled the dingy dark

Rain and snow combining
To create a third element
Of hellishly cold
Late winter Black slush

Block by block
Stocking the streets
For distraction,
Until eyeing the poorly-light
Poorly-advertised Supermarket

It looks new, I thought,
And very strange!
Not a chain, that’s obvious.
With signs written in black ink
By fastidious hand
Welcoming new customers
In English, Vietnamese, and Spanish

A foreign world inside
Of freshly caught fish and fowl
Of all shapes and sizes and colors
On tall heaps of newly chipped dull-white Ice
Of fruits and vegetables
Of all shapes and sizes and colors
In home-crafted wooden bins

A middle-aged Latino man
Stocking shelves
Who spoke no English
Like Carol Merrill with outstretched Digits
Demonstrating today’s showcase
Of cash and valuable prizes
Highlighted the location
Of what felt like too many tiny cans Of jugo
Marked in quoc ngu

But no usual infinite array
Of designer glass-bottled hybrid Combinations
Of organic blueberry, cranberry
And Pomegranate juices
Like the ones on display
At Whole Foods’ and Foody’s

A checkout lady not days shy of 80 With blue black hair
A vulnerable, warm, welcoming smile
Noticeably very few teeth
And even less English
So when did you open?
I asked,
Only slightly invested in the answer

She responded with lightning speed
Left Pointer-finger shooting into Midair
Shrugged shoulders
Opening her mouth to repeat
Of the inviting Facial maneuvering
Of flexed Muscles near each end
of Her Meager mouth
Modeling her one remaining
cracked Yellowed front tooth sharpened by time

I understood she didn’t understand
But then in as high-pitched a screech
As your ears can imagine
One that made my face pucker in on Itself
Like only biting into one of Micky’s Very Green very aged sour pickles
Can Succeed in replicating

In an Asian language
Surmised to be Vietnamese,
A high-pitched guttural male voice
Echoed from the balcony
Overlooking the accidentally-Arranged Pushcarts
Of the town square’s vendors’ Market
Somewhere between San Juan and Hanoi

Mimicking shrieking bellows
Of incoming Pterodactyls
In the deep dark jungles
Of Saturday mornings’ animation:
Johnny Quest
In heavily-austroasiatic-accented English,
DecembeL !

Now better understood
Its method of communication
The lingua franca of this singular Dimension
Between Dot Ave and WW St.

The driving impulse broken
My attention now shifted
From the desire
To escape
Life’s angst
To this strange and present moment

To the impossible possibilities
Of Marriage
Among fish, fruit, fowl, vegetable,
The residents of Sandornam
And the momentary reprieve
From the seduction of
My impending Departure

Deus Ex Machina

To The Force
Of the cold Early spring morning’s
Against these sturdy
Mostly-wooden walls,
Warmed by creaking
Whistling hot water,
Through the house’s veins

I dream of
All fearful thoughts,
My hellish ensnarement,
In an unconsciously adopted
With A Projected
Hegemonic Masculinity

By countless generations,
Of Galactically stupefied
Narcissism for Manhood,
Like Achilles’ heel,
The hero’s hamartia
Limits his bearing strength,
All but Guaranteeing,
His inevitable and
Portended Tragic

That I may embrace
My divine inheritance,
Deep within:
The tenderness of twilight
The brilliance of a star,
The sustenance of solitude
The beauty of a flower,
The genuity of the aged
The mettle of a child,
The freedom of the out-breath
The power,
in the present’s

All Urging
My deliverance,
From loveless cold despair,
In life’s cocoon
Of fear-based habits,
Of struggling ego’s aimless ends
Of sabotage by solution-forcing
Of unduly seeking night’s Revenge,
In Rage’s,

Toward Light’s peace,
Fearlessly Grateful for
Deus Ex Machina:
The percipient raging impulse
To Destroy,
All manner Of disingenuity
And escapist release,
Like a petulant child,
Taking joy
In annihilation,
Of his building-block

Forced now to sit
With raw emotion,
With mighty urge
Now, to flee,
I’ve come to know
Mind’s monkeying nature,
My essential goodness,
And Fear’s confrontability

As time ticks forward
I Sense the glimmer,
The Master’s Stroke within:
At long last,
Epiphanic Revelation!
True Self Authentic!!
Kaleidoscopic Spontaneity
Breathed into me

Snapshots of Angst

I wish I spoke German
I would write
Great Epic Poems
Of Angst and Geilheit
The likes of Tristan und Isolde

My heart throbs aching
For the closeness I miss
But not for the Him
I created in me

A telephone conversation
Stingily braising
A simmering past
Romanticized then suddenly,

Petrified my hardened heart
Volcanic news of separation
Ocean of Time and Neglect and Fear
Unrequited anguished moments

Lonely dinners
A table for one
Out-of-town businessmen
Peering through the gestalt
Of rain-beaded window
Pains of shattered love

Street lights suspended
Abandoned black pavements
Glistening with hues of whitish yellow
Like ghosts piercing
Lonely passersby
Draped in personal protective
Canopies of anonymity

Here I sit in a golden haze
Chilled to the bone
Goblets of diet coke,
Iced to the brim
Stony visions of hellishly Falling
Purple grey February slush

Chop-sticking at
Hypoallergenic pad thai
Dreaming of
Und Love gone by