What is Providence

Will we be saved
Will someone come down from Heaven’s sake
Tell us how we’ve had our chance
and all our time in history here
we’ve only made life disappear

The gift we were given
we devalued
Showed no real effort
toward correcting our hate
We gathered opposing voices
making them our enemies
We learned to kill
from a book we interpret literally
in Adam and Eve
and Cain and Abel
accepting these words as Providence

We’ve not learned to Love
and have made the choice to kill
We’ve not learned
that the world is not all about 'me'
but about escaping the self
onto the understanding
that we are but a part of all
and when we destroy any part of life
we are killing ourselves.

Is there any entity somewhere
that witnesses the jeopardy of our demise
and has the power to intervene,
saving us from ourselves,
enlightening us to what is wise

Intimate Cycle

Can Love survive
Can Love sustain
Without intimacy
Is it all
It’s ‘cracked’ up to be?

If memories still, freshly, exist
of the spontaneous kiss
the stray and erotic touch
the seductive, ‘Hello”

Now we fall asleep
in separate rooms
the space between us
is no longer an obstacle
like it was when youthful intimacy
consumed our loins

The queries now persist;
‘Have my looks faded,
my attractiveness lost‘?
‘ Do you still love me?’
‘ Of course I do,
Don’t be silly’
‘Was it something I said
or was it something I did?’

A daunting winter is measured
The haunting of intimacy, desire, lost
One by the abundance of snow gathered
The other by the chill of the ice formed

Nature we Love
for the seasonal changes
and cycle it tolls
Agape, the third book
in the trilogy of life
abandons personal intimacy,
will our Love die by this
or like Nature,
will it re-grow?

Chair on my Patio

Used to think life as a constant
but now days go by so quickly
moments pass by at an instant
sometimes I forget to breathe

A chair sits on life’s patio
I sit and watch the passers by
Some will stop for a short stay
share their tunes as if on a radio

There are those whose hand I hold
their fingers intertwine into mine
cause a rythm change in my heart beat
and the promise of forever, I am told

Reality comes along sits next to me
shares some anecdotal fun
some of joys and pleasures
like the rise of a morning sun
letting the starry night go free

Yet, come a stormy day
leaving destruction in it’s way
Helping pick up after it,
is life’s mandate, is it’s writ

And as I witness life, now, many years
many more behind than those before me
putting ‘life’ in a perspective
enjoy the laughter and deal with the tears

If there’d be wisdom
Reality has shared,
In life, the only constant
is ‘change’ with whom it’s paired

Fireflies and Memories

Gathered some thoughts today
Memories of good things
some not so much
Cupped my hands to hold them
Some sieved between my fingers
but captured some from falling through
They felt warm in my palms
and when I raised my hands
to see what I had captured
Opened my cupped palms carefully
like fireflies, they were glowing
The faces the places, glowing and fading,
glowing and fading then began flying about
I gently clenched my hands together
not wanting to let any more fly away
Alas, I open my clutching hands
releasing them from my grasp
giving them their freedom,
allowing me mine.
Fly away, for once again,
I shall gather you another day

Being Human

The day arrives
I hold it’s hand
we lumber about
together on a pathway
where others also dawdle
They pass by not seeing us
as they tend to their cyber-link toy
in their hand unaware of life
abounding about them

I stop to observe and enjoy
the daily playful display
of chipping sparrows,
cardinals and blue jays
flying from tree to tree
Squirrels and their chipmunk cousins
scurrying about playing tag
They notice me and stop and sit
upright on their haunches
watching me watch them
The crimson of cardinals
the blue of the jays
the brown and black of the sparrows
are a colorful attire perched
on white capped otherwise baron limbs
of undressed trees on this wintry day

I turn around to go back inside the warmth of my abode
Awaiting me is my favorite reclining chair
and my entertainment implement of choice
where I can exist vicariously
in the likes of Keats, Shelley,
Poe and Emily, Pat Conroy or Sam Harris,
Amy Chua and Sherry Turkle
The crackle of logs burning
wildly waving it's orange and yellow flames
warming the side of my face
as Chopin tickles those ivory's in my ears

On my lap the gentle chest compressions
of my small canine children
sharing my warmth of space
whilst the heart beat of my partner
sits next to me drifting into her world of erudition
sated by the whimsy of fiction
We appreciate our human presence
the life that warms our laps
and not an email, text or twitter
or a cybernating avatar

Released

Love’s abused
     hearts forlorn
          the human spirit
a distant cry


     my words
en writ
         decried
  but still
               I sing

        I hug
my muse
               release
I fly

Untie Me

Used to be tied in a knot
Have recently been untied
My ears are now clear
My eyelids open
My chest can inhale deeply

I don’t know if I like being untied
Free, dangling
Where anyone can tie me
Into the knot they wish

Now I can be tethered
Anchored under water
Tied to a kite, soaring
Hold turkey legs together
Hug a roast
Thrown into a heated oven

They use me to tie wrists
I travel around the world on packages
Best of all, though,
Some use me to steady
sweet smelling flowers in their gardens,
Roses to the trestle

I’m used in parables
'Thread of Life'
Morphed into metaphysical theories
(the string theory)
Used as metaphors
‘held together by a thread’

I guess I don’t mind
being used to tie things together
Don’t know if I like being in a knot
But I also don’t like being
‘left dangling not knowing,
hanging by a thread’ .

I’m all knotted up

Gabby's Chant

A chant like a song
A refrain for equity, for parity
ascends from her voice

She sings the words
from her heart, her soul
‘this nation embraces all of us
in the words of our Constitution’

A crack rings out
The song is quieted
Screams resound
She falls and
a child of 9/11/01
lay beside her
on a carpet of red
now breathless

The chant has stopped
muffled by an angry hand
holding a weapon
given to him by the very ‘rights’
of the verses being sung

Her chant; ‘Our Constitution provides
us all the …freedom of speech;
peaceable assembly and the right
to petition the Government for
the redress of grievances‘.

Bullets will not quiet voices, convictions
we've tried this with 'wars'
The taste of liberty, freedom
remains in memory, in songs
chants by those with the courage
to sing on Mall corners

Tuesday's with My Brother

A dreaded phone call
his voice reverberates of sadness
yet the words expressed
give no hint of repression

Learned from his partner in life
posting in a social site
that his eyes had rolled back
barely a hint of the breath of life

Once again he had entered
into that eternal sleep
Without her calling his name
or the medic's external stimuli
he would have left us

Ten years and more
he’s walked with stolen keys
toward the gates of that journey
into that unknown abyss

His lover, his wife,
was able to once again
speak life into him
calling his name

Soon, I must accept,
‘Tuesday’s with Morrie’
will be the script
my brother and I
will be, tearfully, sharing

Purpose?

Should our pace of steps
in our walk of life
quicken ?

Does my ancestry’s Aztec/Mayan calendar
call for me to witness keener,
to breathe in deeper,
the waft of life?

Will all that has been taught
in my life and academic years
of erudition and inculcated knowledge
expire into irrelevance?

Will the Human experience
become an unconnected microcosm,
a point in ‘time’ (Man’s mundane observation),
insignificant yet integral in the ‘chaos’ of the universe?

Will there be a 'purpose' in our being
or just another word in Man’s vocabulary?
Will the chronology of historical Human experience
dissipate into a timeless space,
into the void of light?

Will Man’s pursuit of Love, Hope
based on an omniscient, omnipotent, deity
all have been for naught?

If there'd be anything of this Human experience
that, at minimum, casts a shadow
upon the expanse and reality of the Universe
let it be the different dynamics
man has pressed into history;
the heart’s and mind’s smatterings
of music, the arts, kindness and Love.

Abuelito's Clock

Last night, home alone,
I stubbed my toe while in my dimly lighted room
lit by only night lights plugged into outlets,
a room ready for bed time.
I bend over to rub and soothe the pain,
tiny shadows cast, climbing over folds,
my wrinkled skin made surreal by this darken room.
Noticing toe nails left unkempt,
my Abuelito’s feet evince.
A reverie of recall when last I witnessed them
hooked around the legs of a wooden stool,
his toes splayed in Mexican huaraches
covered in clay dust and grey dirt
from the streets outside his shop
where he’d repair, resole 'sapatos' .
They're slipped like sleeves onto black cast iron anvils
that resemble upside down feet.
Sunlight dimly lights inside his shop at day time,
lit at night by shards of moonlight rays piercing
through strategically placed slats of tin and cardboard roof
Supported atop walls of grass and mud
not unlike many casas in Torreon.
Under the moon and 'piszca de estrellas'
with squinting eyes and bottle glass lenses
he would clean and repair 'pistolas'
to make a few extra pesos.

Like in Edgar Allen Poe’s ’Tell Tale Heart’,
"...a slither of light cast a shadow upon his eye",
a dim light lays upon my aged feet
reminding me of how ‘time’ passes by
like when shadows cast are captured only by chance.

Existing in Irony

The antithesis of the spirit of the day;
a day when devout Christians celebrate
the monist belief that all exists in the name of ‘Jesus’,
my dream last night carried me within
the nebulae of contemplation into suicide

Impassioned onus of understanding my agnosticism,
the doubt that I now carry within about the origination
and the 'truth' of the professed ‘scriptures’(all religions),
If this be not true, in that all our efforts to be ’good’
yields no reward of promised ’heavenly joy’,
then why persist in accepting the struggle and strife
of ’life’?

If all exists without purpose, an existential thought,
then why choose to exist in a world
where pain and suffering dominates?
Exist, where the hands of those who wish
to mitigate the suffering and assuage the pain
is for naught.

So many of us consider this option
during this time of the year
when social pressures are in their heighten epitome
and depression insidiously arises quietly
because we've not met other's and our expectations
of ‘successes’ in love, in wealth, in health,
and all without a religious vision of Hope.

But once again, then I think,
why base my belief system on religion
or institutions that dictate an abidance
to only those options they've offered
in their dogma or proscribed mandates ?

Here, then, I make a choice to believe in either
‘freewill’ or ‘determinism’.
I choose ‘freewill’, therefore,
I choose unselfishness, the sharing of ‘good’,
based on my moral convictions and as explicated
by Sam Harris, a contemporary philosopher, educator,
'one's moral convictions are not based in religiosity
or prescribed social norms; manifest hypocrisies'.

Volitionally, in this way,  I therefore choose to live.

Remembering John

John Lennon’s voice spoke softly but loudly
His gentle sounds reverberated the beat of our hearts
in what we thought, in what we felt
what the issues of the time had meld

We remember his music because it was us
We remember the words
‘Imagine’ what the world would be
if we ‘let it be’!

We were battling in wars
with ideological misfits
children dieing , mother’s crying
for government’s games of power

Since his words have been silenced
we have once again raised our hands
in violence
We gather our fruit now before others eat
Only to feed ourselves without caring
for those with shoeless feet

We’ve placed our faith “In God We Trust”
and find our children living in the streets
when few live in castles made of gold
and like the violence placing his words on hold
we have fallen back to leaving our soldier's lives
lying in foreign dust

Can we ‘Imagine’ once again?

Life Carries On

Life strolls through the trails, pathways and streets
It walks uncaring and sometimes ruthless
without a whimper, without a whine for all those
stretched out arms grasping, clawing to grab on
to its apron strings for one last tug

Through scapes of rock face mountains, tree lined forests,
bends of rivers and sandy arid deserts,
it carries its gait with flowing air
uncaring of words written, sedating Life's woes,
vicariously, in an ambiance of lantern light and insulation
with aesthetic prose '...a starry night or dazzling sunlight'

Life carries on in spite of the primal wares
of primeval games played by man
seeping out life’s blood of ethics and morals,
Suffering and pain, broken hearts and travails,
seemingly disavowing human emotions

It plunders, unscathed by human discomfit
It cares not of religions or dogmas written
attempting to explain the why’s and hopes
or creation with their demons and deities.
Life carries on with an uncaring face

A Day With Our Kids

He’s a stout sixteen pound grey curly hair mini poodle
quiet and docile until his sister, via adoption a feisty
thirteen pound soft black curly hair also a mini poodle,
provokes him during play or tugging on a doggy toy
then he will just lift his front paw placing it atop of her,
she will then submit, subordinately, to his show of dominance.
Yet, when they’re released outside they both furiously scamper
onto the backyard scattering the furry tail arbor residents up their trees
and also scare the feathered friends that were eating on their feeders.
It always takes on a ferocity like a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie
where they take on a persona of autocratic rulers over their domicile, they’re dynasty.
He, Jules, follows her like a grey cumulus shadow
mimicking every sniff and curiosity as the ’royal’ terriers they are.
She will bark at anything as he then reacts with a deeper
more manly vocal bark as he gazes into space not even knowing why he‘s barking.
When my wife wishes to leave the house for whatever reason
Jaz must always go with her yet Jules won’t follow if I don’t go along.
My wife and I have come to the realization
that they have adopted us almost with a gender bias.
If I choose not to go with my wife and Jaz, of course, shadows her
Jules won’t go or jump into the car not even for a ride,
a favorite thing of his, but then he proceeds to whimper
in a high pitch tone as he sits on the sill
of our large picture window, possibly regretting at the moment his choice of human bonds, watching them depart.
He sits there on his tiger pillow with incessant whimpers and sadden eyes
waiting for mom and Jaz during this regrettable absence.
At night when it’s time to go to bed it is seemingly
their most enjoyable moment because they get a bedtime ‘chewy’
and get to share time with mom and papa on a warm bed.
As we all lay in bed and mom and I are reading, an ambiance of restful calm resides
while soft classical music is audible from the radio.
Through this salient calm, they can be heard softly chewing as they lie
side by side like Siamese twins yet to be separated of their attached umbilicus.
This is all calming until he decides to get up to get a drink
from his water bowl that sits on the floor next to the door.
Then a common nightly ritual begins where she will steal his ’chewy’
and put her paw over it while still chewing hers.
When he hops back up on the bed once again abutting his body next to her,
he notices that she has absconded his chewy and then he proceeds
to sound off with short howls while looking back at us
asking for our assistance to take back his chewy now being horded under her paw.
She at the same time is growling and jerking her head back and forth
watching his movement seeming to say “pay backs are hell, huh”?
It is humorously ironic to observe this nightly game between the two of them
because during the day he manifests a dominance with his front paw
while playing and wrestling with her and now watching him
ask for our help as she now holds captive his chewy under her paw.
During the day when it’s time for them to eat from a shared single bowl,
he allows her to eat first as he stands behind her like in a food line.
He waits till she’s finished then he’ll approach the bowl to eat.
Wondrously, the tradition in manners and inherent social ethics
of ‘ladies first’ seems to be well served in this case.

Sharing You

A disquiet comes o’er me
A sense of mourning in every cell
that resides within me
Now my soul is restless

When love fills this space
where my spirit rests
a calm and restful feeling
emits from every fiber of my being

This calm seems to have ceased
when it now peers into my heart
a once quiet and peaceful place
where time stood still

You’ve said all is still the same
but now you rarely call my name
and that sense of loving care
within me has since left

The feeling when your heart
would touch mine and mine alone
now feels of temperance
as if it shares it’s attention
with another somewhere else

If this be the case
then whisper gently those words
quietly and softly not to heighten the restlessness
and reawaken that once love filled space

Release me, free me
from this restless place
Knowing that someone else
now shares this space
allows at least my heart
to reside along with selflessness
and a different calm will soon arise
in a mist of subtle tearful restraint

Linking Hands

Holiday seasons arrive, festive tables are set
with the clanging of forks, knives and spoons
Coats and scarfs are strewn on couches and beds
Gathering of Moms and Dads, Uncles and aunts
Familiar faces evince some with feigned smiles
others with crumpled frowns
where gravity has gradually been winning
the challenge of taught cheeks and eyebrows
a noticeably changing landscape of folds and aging spots
A high traffic of piercing chatter and high pitch screams
from Nephews, Nieces and cousins
only previously heard of in conversation
now run by appearing from around the corners of other rooms
Unfamiliar voices fill the room
they share the now busy space in the kitchen and TV room
The waft of sweet and mashed potatoes with gravy
freshly baked rolls , greens and turkey await carnivorous consumption
The clinking of glass with ice inside swirling interrupts
A moment of reflections and thoughts sharply cut into
the chaos of voices as reminiscence and melancholy
enter the room
Then the holding of hands
some smaller lost in the larger
as circle of souls and hearts in the room are linked
then one voice speaks to a common deity
thanking for the spiritual intervention of this gathering
and wishing those less fortunate
the alone, the lonely, are also touched

Forgotten

Have we forgotten to care
because we struggle daily
to feed our own children
We ramble about trying to find warmth
both for the cold of our skin
and the stagnate mind and heart
due to our own strife
Will we once again find the time
find a space in our heart for the other
he or she that has less
For the children who are innocent
yet they ’re left to go hungry
And because of their youthful ignorance
we will selfishly let them starve
both in food intake
and mind nutrients
Some will take advantage
of that innocence
Have our personal toils distracted
where once there was human kindness
now replaced by apathy
Where once there was caring
now there’s non-empathy
Have we forgotten the ‘human truism’
when there’s a cognizant willingness of sharing
in carrying the weight of life’s toils,
it’s struggle and strife,
the burden is mitigated for all
and from this comes knowledge,
a light shining upon contentment, calm and resolve.

Soldier's Quest

Loud flashes of light above
reflecting off clouds ominously
Where once in youthful times
these sparkling lights meant celebration
but today they open up the skies
with loud explosive sounds

They shake the earth
awakening the demons underground
unlike when excitement, back home, filled the air
today they burst the silence
with redden fields and angry death

In a brief intermittent respit
when eardrum breaking blasts cease,
howling pain filled human cries
still fill the smoky air.

A still moment arises and my memories
of loved ones who wait for me
back where these flashing lights
and sky emptying cracking sounds
do not suck breath from life
but celebrate the joy of living,
I think of my heartfelt love'd ones,
their warm embraces and the kisses.

I reflect upon the freedoms,
the occasional abuse of liberties
we partake and are afforded us.
My mind fills in reverie of returning,
planting my garden with beans and tomatoes,
cutting my lawn, sitting in my back yard
with friends and loved ones,
grilling steaks and drinking beer,
listening to music on radio and singing childhood songs

Tears spew out from my eyes
but I do not have time to wipe them,
an explosion o’er my head
rattling my helmet and my brain
reawakening me to the reality
that my life and freedom lies before me
along side my buddy, my brother,
and inside my mind, belief that soon
the Truth of our quest will become victorious

Jules

His right front paw curled up unnaturally
He seemed to stare somewhere into an ethereal place
A space unbeknownst to anyone but him
He begins to quiver and shake
He was being held in my wife’s arms
when first I noticed his eyes
seemingly reaching deep into this space
Then his head rested limply on my wife’s shoulder
I knew in the depths of my soul
where my human emotions rest
that something was not right with Jules

I pulled him from her arms
gathering him closely to my chest
Trying to calm his quivering body
letting him know I was there
My gut was wrenched
Tears came quickly running down my face
He’s only nine was all I could think
Please your too young
I held him tighter
I’m sure he could feel my heart beat
Soon his body ceased from shaking
His eyes no longer staring into an abyss
He looks at me and with a gentle
soft stroke of his small tongue
he licked my cheek tasting my saline tears
For now all is well but time
for both of us is so much more salient.