A collection of some of the short poems I've written

When I Die

When my final days arrive
I will ride out into the vast
through the holy wooded corridor
of earth, wind, and spirit
upon my white stallion of truth
leading the black mare of intrigue

And when I find my place of rest
from my beast I shall remove
all traces of mankind and earthy binds
and he shall be freed with intrigue
to meet his fate without my weight
not bound into servitude under man

And in this ritual, I hope to find
answers to long asked inquiries
as I cast away the binds I created
against those who should remain free
will I finally see the truth
through my own hypocrisy, humanity?

if in my final gesture
should truth be mine to see
free me from this earthly fate
may I not relive another lifetime
give me peace from this cruel place
to which I have long been cast

And if I am not worthy
earthly lessons left unlearned
then I ask in humbled grace
that you cast me back down into hell
to another earthly life of misery
until I have gained insight

For truth should only come
to those who have found it justly
and if I be not of justice
and learned of truth honestly
then give me not a simple fate
but cast me into a life of strife

through a million earthly lives
imprisoned in human ignorance
I will fight my way towards this end
to find my way back to that which I am
to live in honor again
within the halls of truth

 

Window(pane/pain)

the image through this dirty window pane...
is of the sky, the stars, the dark nighttime horizon...
and behind the dusty motes a reflection lies...
this tattered memory I have pieced together...
behind me, a bed, which once we shared...
I can almost make myself see you, there...
the image, through this dirty window, pain...
and in neither way, and yet in both directions...
you remain, behind me, memory, and before me...
the vast world in which somewhere you are...
but greets me only that dark nighttime sky...
and you remain, a phantom in my dust stained...
window pane.

 

Beloved

alight upon my stoop
beloved other
and make us from I
and we from me
beacon of light
against my darkness
peaceful stillness
against my yearning
glorious freedom
against my conformity
remove my doubt
and make me sure
remove my fear
and make me daring
remove my fetters
and make me free
alight upon my heart
beloved other
and show me the way
to love

 

The Sofa Poem

Preface:
My cats have a $300 cat tree scratching post. Yes they use it often.. but they still use the sofa too. If you're not too attached to it, I'd say, what's the harm, it's a chair, after all, and chairs are replaceable, and don't have feelings. Cats, on the other hand, are very NON-replaceable, and their time with us is too short to begin with. If it makes them happy, what is a chair or sofa to me, when the happiness of my cat is the goal of my life? It's all in the perspective, of course. Some people are very attached to their material possessions, to the point of cutting off their cat's toes to save the sofa. Personally, I'd rather NOT be in that category of people.

So to all the cats I say:
Go forth my sweet kitties, and shred the sofas of life,
leave not a sliver of upholstery upon which you have not laid your touch,
for until you touched it, it had no meaning to me,
with your touch, you brought your own special personality to light upon the material world,
and thus improved it.
For when you are long passed from this life, and I look fondly in the vision of my mind upon your memories,
as I sit upon that shredded sofa, my own tears shall fall upon the same surface as you yourself touched,
and together we will be again, if only for a moment, sitting quietly, upon sofa we shared in our own special way.
I wont be remembering yelling at you, or squirting you with a water bottle, or taking you in to have your toes cut off. I wont be remembering you running scared from the sound of a rolled up newspaper, from me.
I wont be remembering anything but you, in all your feline glory,
stretching up in a graceful arch, with the look of pure glee upon your face,
and the sound of fabric ripping, as you happily do what comes naturally to you,
marking your territory.
Only fond memories, will those of you be, to be.

August 2006

 

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