Lifetimes

Through how many lifetimes

Have we remained faithful

All of them

And so in this one 

we too remain

dedicated to this

self-given task

Open yourself

Unclench the fist

Let the blood circulate

through veins 

and capillaries

Find the words again

and again

as you always have

A Friend

What has changed over these many years?

Many things, if not everything.

This desire, so stubborn, so bullheaded,

yet remains.

To sit here, to ponder, to wonder,

to watch the branches of the trees,

and dream of others places, 

other people, and other times. 

To find the words as they venture forth

and give them form and life.

Or is it the other way around?

Lifelong

This ongoing habit

has never let go

So many

mornings

afternoons

nights

So many

moments of 

peace

worry

darkness

and light

It takes my hand

Guides it

The Writer of Average Skill and Intelligence

My drinking was the least interesting part of me.

It consumed me for far longer than I would have liked.

How many people believe the cowardly myth

of the great genius alcoholic writer alone with a bottle, 

their troubles, and a writing tool of choice, on those

long and lonely nights of drinking towards ecstasy?

The only creation was a dark void I kept feeding.

What was the point of those years? What did I learn?

I never want to be a great genius alcoholic writer.

It was killing me. I was never a genius to begin with

and I am certainly not one now.

Tumbling Act

The words will tell you when they need to get out.
They will speak and you will recognize
the urgency of the voices in which they speak.
You do not get to choose the time
or place at which this will occur.
It doesn't work like that and it never will.
You must simply be ready to accept the gift
at all times at all places.
You will understand why as they tumble out
in an abundance as they trip over your fingers
in their clumsiness to emerge in an ecstatic order.
And then, at last, when they are settled on the page,
you will marvel at their grace and wonder
how they managed to wind up there in such a way.

Possible Dawn

Oftentimes when I wake before dawn
I will sit down at my desk and write
and write and write. I try to open my
mind as fully as I can. I am the most
critical of myself at these hours. I feel
my weaknesses and shortcomings most
acutely. Why? Because I believe in the
better person I know I am capable of
becoming. Because I know my potential
is there and I have yet to meet my own
expectations. Perhaps it is also easier to
be more open and honest with yourself
when the world is still asleep and you
can feel it breathing and dreaming still.
I want to make this life better, not just
for me, but for those I love, for all of us.
It is always a struggle. Nothing of worth
can be gained easily. It must be fought
for. It must be suffered for. There is no
guarantee of a reward. We must become
masters of ourselves. Easier said than
done. That is so often the case. Yet it is
possible. I still believe in potential and
possibility. The story is not yet done.
The words are being written as we
breathe. I do not know your challenges
as intimately as I know my own. Your
struggles are valid. Suffer through them.
Build yourself through them. Recast
yourself into a position of strength and
greater compassion. Give up the belief
that what you want is impossible. Only
then can it be possible.

The Blank Page

The blank page is a promise
only you can fulfill.
It starts here with some words
The words needn't be anything
other than themselves.
There doesn't need to be
a special occasion
or greater purpose
they can just simply be
That is enough
That is all
I am thinking
of what I wish to say
but now I don't hesitate
I let the words speak
through me
as they have always done
Such a need
to do this
A small example
of hope

Contemplation / Morning 12/26/17

I woke up thinking

about wanting to free myself

from my bodily desires

To free myself from my bad habits

of drink and food

To move more

To feel the wind and sky more

To explore more

To slowly move from my room

to this outer world once more

I want to be more

I want to feel more

But only I can bring this dawn

This remains in my hands alone

This is my choice

This is what I must remember

This is how I must act

What was good enough can no

longer be acceptable

I must let myself be more fully

present in the present

This - the eternal now

Always

Always here

Discipline

Control

Growth

I must master myself

to foster these

To receive love

To give love

To receive love

To give love

To receive love

To give love

Dying days of a dying year

We look towards the sun

towards the moon

towards the stars in the heavens

Looking for an answer

Looking for reassurance

to get us through the days ahead

Winter  at our feet

Dreams of Spring 

just further ahead

God is within

What does this mean?

Have you considered

that you are the expression

of universal consciousness

that you are in fact 

an incarnation of God

We are all God

in this fashion

Flawed and finite

as part of an infinite

timeline stretching 

far behind and ahead of us

plucking of strings

drops of rain

resonance

sound bleeding into air

lungs breathing 

I am the steward of this body

My spirit

My body 

This place I call my own

The Author

With each passing moment
we are writing word after word
sentence after sentence
and page after page
into the book of our lives

Small actions
Big thoughts
Hopes
Aspirations
Failures
Pure and
impure thoughts
Kindness and
cruelty
That which
builds and
diminishes

All thoughts and actions
accruing into a story
we are aware of

Hoping for change
we must write it
we must live it

Do not let the pages
cut the skin of your fingers

Bleed when necessary
Create always
Create all ways

Reality Not Myth

You wake up sober
because you haven't been drinking
and you begin to feel bad
for all the writers and artists
over time immemorial
who have fallen to the false
promise of drink
and built their myths
on the power
of this escapism
Fuck forever
Fuck immortality
Give me a good nights sleep
and feeling alive
at the hour of my waking
each day

Morning 9/9/17

With each sunrise I must remember my personal
capacity to change. It becomes hard for me to
remember this sometimes after ages of living in
a fairly set routine.

Could I have ever given you the life you deserved?

Exert the control and willpower you have proven
yourself capable of through the years.

Remembering love that once blossomed.

What is broken can still be
                         healed
                                    forgiven

Finding the light of a spiritual practice.
Defining that which gives me hope and
allows me to aspire to a greater manner
of existing.

No More Worry

Worry doesn't worry me anymore but perhaps that
is good enough reason to worry now. My mind
sifts through thoughts like loose gravel. I let the
dawn encroach and overwhelm. The birds make
themselves known once again. Light has overwhelmed
the sky. It is among us once more.

Wonder

How many long days of work ended with him opening the door
to his car and sitting down? Not all, but a lot of them. It wasn't
that his work was of the back-breaking physical variety, it was
the kind of work that wore out the mind and could make a man
soft and apathetic. Sometimes he would just sit there and close
his eyes before turning the ignition. Once he was on the road it
would be the usual evening slog through traffic filled with others
like himself just happy to be heading home and away from the
touch of work. Every so often he would look into the window
of a car next to him and watch for a moment. Occasionally he
would see someone singing. Other times they would be staring
straight ahead with a steely-eyed focus to get home. They all
had that look of tiredness that work had a way of stamping on
their faces. Even if someone was happy to be driving home
among all the traffic it was rare to see that look on someone's
face. He liked putting on music in the car for his drive. Some
days he wanted something pretty and slow, other times some-
thing fast and daring, but just something to listen to. It was a
little thing that helped make the drive more bearable. There
were many times he wondered what would happen if he just
kept driving. Not going home or to the bar, just driving as far
as he could until the car ran out of gas. How far could he get
and how much farther could he go with another tank? How
he longed to let the road open wide before him and drive until
everything could make sense again. Could the road go on
forever? Would he ever need to return? He wondered but
there was only so much wondering a man could do.

Morning Thoughts 5/9/17

You awaken to the dawn within.

It can take more effort to not drink
than I would care to admit
but I can and it does feel like
a relief of sorts to do so.

the sky is pulling away the shroud of night
as light begins to drift into steady view

How steady are your hands when you grip the pen and begin
to move it across the page. Are you ready to let your thoughts
unfurl in their own way, free of judgement, and editing, free to
simply be allowed to exist on the page and say what they have
come to say. How many words by how many people rest in the
closed confines of books dusty and forgotten in attics and shelves
across this world? Too numerous to count, this figure would
astonish us all. The words are always there and ready to be read
if given the chance. The page is longing for fingers to run across
long closed pages on paper that has aged as well as possible.

How early is the dawn?

Do you long to be part of the world or apart from it?

The name of God is on your lips but you have forgotten what it is.
Does it matter to Her. I supposed it doesn't as long as you know
that all paths lead towards the same form of enlightenment give the
right opportunity.

I can see a tree and think of shade and fruit. I can see a tree and
think of childhood and of my bike slamming into one. I can see
trees in the park and think of a park in Oregon and laying in the
grass, watching the branches and clear blue sky. I can look at a
tree and think of all the pieces of paper I have ever written upon
or thrown away once they have served their purpose. To exist
is to serve in so many guises in so many lives. If I am human
what will my next guise be? Will I still wake with the dawn and
hear the voices of the birds from the branches in the trees?
This life without end, changing from one existence to the next.
Sleeping until we must wake, and living while one can as well.

We are perfectly built to be imperfect. Through this we can find
the lining of grace and grow beyond the limits of our shortcomings.

I'm waiting for you in this room but I'll never find you here if I
do not leave. Opening the door I can find the touch of wind
and know you are there somewhere.

A moment of peace.

Is the universe reaching into you?
Are you listening?
Can you feel it?

Songs of Faith and Worship.

Reaching into memory
I find you, Old Friend.
Be at peace.

Monastic Order

Voices only grow more beautiful in a choir.

Light of Consciousness

Morning 5/8/17

The world falls apart
and begins again
and begins again
and again
again

Always be ready
for change
Change will be
Change is
Change

Remove unnecessary language
New thoughts from old words

We've come so far
Yet we must continue
Further still

Do your laundry
How much more normal
Can one be

Vision of the eternal
Glimpses through fleeting moments

Allowing oneself to feel again

Transcend these lives of petty worries

Recognize the journey
Allow yourself the freedom of honesty

Freedom from the unnecessary.

Learn to live in the essential truths of yourself.

Pastels gauzy and blending
into one another
Gentleness and softness
conveyed through color alone

Morning Fragments 5/5/17

Kingdom of Light
Search and realize
it has always been
within you.

I awaken into the waters
and toss until
I begin to swim
and make my way
to the shore.

To create
and deface.
Force language to say
that which was never intended.
Scrawl out in black the words
that are no longer needed.
Creating meaning from
that which remains.

Grey and overcast
Even morning is tired
Waiting for the sun  (haiku)

Where we are
Where we must go
Can they be the same place?

The lessons of a lifetime
Are we preparing for another?

The Divine Within
Transformation to Transformation

Easter Morning Meditations

Must my shadow be so dark
From my bed I rise into another dawn
What will this life hold for me
in these years of passing life
Focusing light into a point
so bright that it won't be denied

strings plucked so vibrantly
as the drums bubble over like waves
invocation to peace and mindfulness
from here life begins   peace of heart
peace of mind   does the soul alight
in you now  close your eyes and listen
this place you have wished to be has
always been within  listen to the still
ness of life   listen  here  now  here
let it flow from crown to toe sunlight
washing over you  filling you  now it
becomes you  free yourself from that
which brings you harm  words repeat
in quiet breaths  focusing thoughts
the sound which calls you to be more
more than merely living  to be alive
to live with honesty and humility
to live with the truth of life itself
invitation to higher connection
thoughts which bring peace
words which bring serenity
all that we are and will yet be
past and future selves in one being
awake at the shore and overwhelmed
rise and fall of the tide  soft white
peaks dissipate  create a trail for
others to follow words like breath
within me and without be unafraid
my better nature is fighting for the light
remember the lessons of your father

Those who can hear
Those who can feel
cannot doubt that which flows through

Reverse Writing

I am ready. 
I am here.
What more is needed?

Can one write
by merely
erasing words
from the page?

The answer
may surprise 
but it is 

yes.

Reasons

How much sense do my reasons make 
if I were to tell you why I write, why
I make music? 

They may not make sense to you, or 
even seem justifiable. It doesn't matter
much to me, really. 

I have to. I cannot let this part of me die.
I give it life as often as I can in order to
give myself life. 

It is both blood and water. It is inspiration
and heartache. It is rapture and catharsis.
It is to be as fully human as possible. 

Writing in the Morning

you wake
and sit
and think
until
words
begin to
appear
when they
do
and they
always do
you put
them down
and look
at them
if they
please you
they remain
if they
do not
they are
quickly
forgotten