musings & scribbles

a pretty long time ago,
i told you i’d sold myself
on the notion of marriage;
how funny, how funny,
to think of the nights
in that blue store
sided gold/and Polly
telling us it’s okay to
talk a bit between shifts,
so long as the patrons
don’t seem to mind;
forgot the days you spent
driving to me for an hour
and all the times i came home
to warm supper, given with Love,
given with Love.

you always and often told me
that He knows where we need to be,
no matter the day, no matter
the ex-periences of past lives;
i always and often believed you,
holding on to those ideals we
always laughed at before we saw
how hard a life worth living takes
to realize.

When I look back and see nothing,
I look ahead and see in Your face
Reflections of all You’ve gifted me;
Thank You, Lord!

I am not these words,
These cryptic phrases
And made-up themes;
I am not these which you read,
Hear, or listen to. I am not
Who these pictures, painted,
Show. I am not who you
Believe I am; though, I
Use these words to
Describe who I am not
And, therefore, state
Quite plainly who I am.

Jesus, your love keeps me sane. Your
Life led me to be a better human being.
I longed to be Your equal,
Though You know I was not sent
As You were; I see that now,
Though know You would
Appreciate the efforts to be
A better human being with
You as a role I wished to be.

I and You,
Walking along pavement To
Be a Blessing in One Other’s Stream.
In some store’s parking Lot,
I and You, bleed to be Another’s
Angel, so-to-speak, And
An Approving Ear to hear Lives
Not many times spoken To
Stranger, who they know Not.

how often we see a sad day
and think, “tomorrow ‘ll be
better. tomorrow ‘ll be a
different day.” well, why
not today? why not this
time we have right now
to be the ones to say, “i
will make a difference.
i am standing right now
to say to you, ‘BE cheerful,
for we have now to be
more than we ever were/
just don’t let your eyes
drop, keep them raised
and seeing ahead to all
that waits those willing
to know there is more.'”

Make your sounds!
Let me play a word
Off the noise
You’ve made and heard!;
Though a thousand
Times repeated,
There is much
Vocabulary to proceed
Until the throat is dry
Or eyes stay shut one
More minute than should be;
Ah!, what sanctuary!
Doot-da-aaah-doot.

is it worth
the time to be
everything to everyone
but me?

i never saw myself
as anything more than
some writer you learned of
long after i ‘d expired.

maybe that’s the hardest part
of knowing/not whether you’
ll see these words some day far
or they’ll be recounted at gravesite
and forgotten soon after, like
a tombstone’s sentence and time’s
embrace, a dissipation of
all that once existed, seen
, but memory is only so that
even it gives in when loosened
hold, holding fast, slows.

I can just imagine:

Singing the same song, two-three
Times a week, wailing away in
Practice between performances;
And all over someone that still
Matters when counting blessings
And thinking of what once was;
A sad song being lived by a singer
Who can’t forget the lyrics, no.