It's Only Natural

In Remembrance

No one remembers the man with faded glory matching faded jeans

On a straight-arrow train that doesn’t know his name

                With the sinners, climbers, and mothers

He’ll speed by with silent ease

Until his face is blurred into the whitewashed walls of collective history

He pleads

                Remember me

                To the self-absorbed ears of denial

                                Pleading

But to his dramatically early escape

                Oh, they will talk

                They will sing

                They will pray

                They will paint themselves black

                They will wonder

                They will write

                                In remembrance

Inheritance

When I close my eyes I see the man on a train

His naked finger drums a tired face

Eyes of remorse haunt my lesser self

                 And this is not what he had planned

                 And failure is upon him

Hands full with the boy who shares his eyes

                 And he is serene                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

They say death is going home

They say it would be beautiful                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

Reality hits and the Prestige is only an Illusion

Salvation is passing on

                The failures of one life to the next

The boy with hand-me-down eyes is left on the train

Silence is the only solution when serenity is screaming

                And this is not what he had planned

                Inheritance is upon him

Honest Illusions

Illusion isn’t magic; she’s a commonplace bitch

Because we’re all too afraid of Virgin Truth

The truth is we’re all

                Selfish

                Ignorant

                Greedy

                Lonely

                Enraged

                Lost

Jack-ed up on the illusion of power

Mediocrity in denial

The illusion is that mediocre happiness is futile

The truth is that acceptance of mediocrity is peaceful

                Not that I would know

                We’ve never seen peace

The truth is I am nothing special

The illusion is we are all outliers

Above my fingers I paint colors of youth

If you don’t notice, you aren’t looking close enough

                Because everyone sees a budding beauty

                The illusion of Spring

Under these fake nails I’m growing old

But if you notice that you’re looking too close

                Because no one sees the tears in a falling leaf

                The truth is Autumn

Still I’ll keep painting my nails

Still I’ll keep enjoying Spring

Still I’ll keep living an illusion

                Because that’s all we know

                Because that’s all we have

                Because acceptance is impossible

                Because we can’t settle

                Because we can’t stop Waiting

Still my greatest fear is illusion blending with truth

Paradoxical

The Creator reveals the world in microcosmic paradoxes

I feel uneasy about The Creator, but his truth is apparent.

My Beauty

                Homeless feet bewildered in orientation

                Restless rebellion in a spritely step

                A fellowship of conformists inhibits idiosyncratic intelligence

                Average Genius

                Another walking paradox

My Strength

                Golden ribbon round the mind

                Enthusiastic bounds of harmony

                A colorful quilt hides an encasement of uncertainties

                Fragile Vigor

                Another walking paradox                            

My Spirit

                Clever fingers twirl with inborn insight

                Raw expression with eyes-wide-open

                Those fingers tremble in symbolic storms of adolescent hope

                Naïve Wisdom

                Another walking paradox

My Steady

                Circlets of promise tied in sturdy knots

                Fearless exposure of an honest soul

                A silent confidence grasps shadow-hands with The beloved

                Dependent sovereignty

                Another walking paradox

My Constant

                Smile lines carved in a stoic comfort

                Warm attraction from pure compassion

                A settled foundation fades regret from the outsiders

                Content remorse

                Another walking paradox                            

Now there is myself…

A forever walking paradox

Dark Mirrors

I see myself in Dark Mirrors

Obfuscations of an 18 year old New Born

Soft angles outlined in shadows

Introspection is an old friend of mine

We walk alone together with Doubt

                And I wonder who walks with the other sinners

My family reconciles their misfortunes

While the other sinners weave blame in tangled webs

                And I wonder why there aren’t enough Dark Mirrors

Lord, I try not to Judge the other sinners

But Lord, Judgment Day can’t come soon enough

I don’t believe in Divine Interference

But I do believe in Divine Introspection

Reflected from Dark Mirrors

Lovely

We’re not ready

Not ready to break the habit of voice

Not ready for the freedom of Loneliness

I know your brave face

You know the etches on my back

                They expose themselves in winter

                They spill the story

                The story we know by our heart

I can read it on your hands

I can hide it on my back

 I am Afraid

                Our chapter is almost complete

                I am afraid that I will never read anything Lovelier

                When did you stop reading to me?

                Was it when I started tucking you in to sleep?

                Someday soon I will read you my story

                                And you will love it more than others

They don’t understand

                                Loveliness

I worry about your hands

                Withering doesn’t suit you

Let me give you my hands

                They are strong and free and mine and yours

                They grew from me

                They are greater than this

                They will hold you together

I am of you

                I saw myself in your ignorant past

                When your world was fun and free and graceful

                Your innocence is in my eyes

                Our eyes

I will be All Right

                We have the same heart

                It has grown to be so Lovely

You are not

My hero

My protector

My Saving Grace

You are my only inspiration

                I’ll be the rest myself

                For I have a strong back