As a child you are a victim, an adult, a volunteer.

So many wrongs, and self abuse, in time to disappear.

The unforgiven have a prison that is dark and wicked deep.

If the unforgiving don’t let go then neither one can sleep.

A great unknown, that time has shown and sometimes looks like change.

If letting go has left some marks, then no words can rearrange.

Tears of laughter and tears of joy, they look the same I guess.

You killed my dog, I’ll kill your cat has no virtues; I confess.

So try and find forgiveness, or maybe just understand.

That if I hurt you I must confess it wasn’t really planned.

She was lovely in that sunshine. Said she was searching for a song.

It wasn’t the words or melody or the need for right or wrong.

She was searching for some meaning or a feeling in her heart.

But that train had left the station and it was tearing her apart.

I told her it’s time to kneel, when all else fails pray.

She thanked me for mansplaining and I just said ok.

That opaque interlude of childhood is far behind us.

Worn and tattered and splayed by uneven, unreliable memory…

Spread thin until it’s meaningless, no flavor, no substance…

Just unrelenting nonsense that needs to be stared down; gone but not forgotten.

We are in the heart of meaning NOW!! Standing, pacing, one step in front of the other, dealing with what needs be…

Maybe the opaque is required… maybe we need to grow before we can see behind that curtain and roll into the arms of Angel’s.

Dennis Mantin

There is a heart shaped carve in rosewood.
There’s a line drawn in the sand.
I pray there on grace and wonder,
and there’s a baby, she’s in my hand.

There’s a virtue called forgiveness.
From a force we can’t see.
It’s how I deal with darkness.
Of how I feel when you’re with me.

I struggle now to hear you.
Seek approval in your eyes.
I hate you for your beauty.
Like I love you for your lies.

It’s a sad sad situation
Department sad but true.
You fear that they are coming
And you fear what they will do.

It’s a sad sad situation
Under heading sad but true
You fear that they are coming
No one is coming for you.

Dennis Mantin

There’s a moment in the ether, a pause like quiet in the land.

When the kids she goes back to school and nothing goes as planned.

It’s like summer here and over.The sun takes back her warm.

You just batten down the hatches! And you brace for coming storm.

I’ve tried to teach with reasons. With some proverbs and some facts.

It gets cold. Enjoy the seasons. Get those monkeys off your backs.

I tried so hard to be vegan.

It was eating me inside.

Fat Nancy put on the steaks

Then she took me for a ride.

It’s always now or never.

Though it’s something in between.

My kingdom my kingdom for a horse.

But the horse was with the Queen.

I might sound low and bitter.

My heart is light and free.

I just wish you wouldn’t sit so close. 

You are fucking with my chi.

Labor Day is in the city and in the country here on Earth.

Most are scratching towards the middle. And so few are giving birth.

There’s a sadness in Financials. They have fired the accountant and the clerk.

The message on the answering machine says, ‘You can’t go back to work. ‘

The parade is stuck in traffic. The Grand Marshall looks forlorn.

The motivation speaker is screaming insults at some Karen on her horn.

Me? I’m writing poems. All these words freed from my head.

There’s a cat to feed and a child to see… if I can make it from this bed.

The sentence was death by boredom. The virus spread the earth.

Madness rained down upon them. Like some monsters giving birth.

They handed out free money. The kind that makes you soft.

And nearly jumped out their skin. When someone smiled and coughed.

Then Dylan put out an album. With a song called Murder Most Foul.

That sounds as disgusted as I feel. Like the purging of a bowel.

I’ve learned to take the blessings and take them as they come.

He is at another level, a bit too much for some.

It’s Sunday in the Lowlands.

Maybe in the Highlands, too…

But I can’t say I’ll ever know.

Because I’m here missing you.

There’s a view from those high places.

Sometimes wonder what you see.

I remembered once when I was there.

I had this yearning to be free.

So I left. Was in a hurry.

And my feet they brought me here.

I might go back to visit.

Maybe not. Maybe next year…

I fell in state unconscious.

Great fortune in my bed.

Parts traversed upon great distance.

The rest lay here instead.

A sound outside the window.

My cat did snarl and hiss.

Which brought me back together.

To you and more to miss.

I take in what I can and need.

Daily log I write it here.

Somehow, I feel quite rested.

There’s a quiver in my fear.