If you are fortunate

And lucky in life.

You arrive at a point where…

You are just grateful to witness.

To participate.

To be alive.

To experience life.

I have arrived.

If you are fortunate

And lucky in life.

You arrive at a point where…

You are just grateful to witness.

To participate.

To be alive.

To experience life.

I have arrived.

We were waiting in the hours.

A few more moments, almost home.

All that noise turned to quiet.

Inward awkward outward poem.

This thing we do for money.

Payment statement time spent here.

There was something in the water.

Actors’ spotlights faced their fear.

We were in the cool sweet air.

Darkness late October night.

Waited too long to be fair.

Dreams and sleep would have a fight.

Control was fading faster.

To the bankers at the trough.

Somehow, we drove right past her:

In the shadows getting off.

Mercifully, it all ended.

To the sounds of sad goodbyes.

Like a stiff martini blended.

To the wonders; how’s and why’s…

Such sadness at the opera.

Tears fall down-long face.

Dining drinks eases the pain.

Entertainment lens and double takes.

Fears like that are no place special.

Just more or less adieu…

There was something about the final act…

Left me cold for something new.

No rest for the wicked.

All those evil things I’ve done.

Got forgiveness and punched my ticket.

Except for you, the damage done!

I woke up in the morning.

A dream about a pain that’s in my throat.

I was leaning towards realizing.

There might be something to worry about.

I asked my wife if she hit me.

She was too groggy to understand

I have heard it all before.

If she did, it wasn’t planned.

There is rain and the leaves are falling.

On a ground that’s black and wet

Halloween is fast upon us.

With no masks or costumes yet…

The sun is just south of the horizon.

It’s a certainty to rise.

Been thinking about the past too much.

In my throat, I caught those lies.

I’d been searching for the answers… When finally she came along.

Preforming miracles, curing cancers. Giving music to the song.

She taught and gave directions. Even when I didn’t ask.

She let me know my fortune. In her sunshine I could bask.

She showed me all my foibles. And how little I evolved.

I felt criminally unworthy, so I left her. Mystery solved.

Sam posed these questions:

“Why do you write? What is it about your voice that we should know and hear and understand?”

It’s an important thing to ponder; these 2 separate questions.

Driven past the boundaries of human acceptance. The God’s and monsters granted me their admission to witness. No reasons were given.

Just silence.

I waited things out; isolated, watching, observing, practicing patience; I began to write. Anything, really. Thoughts, opinions, prose. Too young to shave. Too old to cry… I hesitated to give into an audience for even though I wondered Sam’s query long before there was a Sam. There was nothing to weigh any of this against until I became a father. And then God, yes! Now, it made sense. She/he shows me the reality of why I have no choice but to write… They’ve abandoned me to this.

I do not know what you should know and hear and understand. I only know why I need to write…