Month: March 2000

Congruence

My parts and my pieces, never a fit
a jigsaw puzzle borne of bewilderment
from pillar to post, through kindness to jibes
focused on locating survivors of my lost tribe

Nimbly surviving on generous winks and nods
emitted from a charming and personable facade
always traversing terrain as a velvet infidel
silent on sharing, firm on don’t ask nor tell

Despair in my cup plus a diet of regret
but a fading vision still beating in my heart’s locket
seeking rainbow’s end, not continual storm
my destination always shifting place and form

But guided by virgins learned and sinners graceful
scouting for footprints of angels who will tell
on the outskirts of freedom, my simple epiphany
‘I am one, I am all, they are one, they are me’

Our Masquerade

what frightens us most is what we reflect
those invisible shadows of Cain’s silhouette
we dance and maneuver like marionettes
acting out story lines, singing duets
uttering kind words and well-chosen sobriquets
righteously shouting unholy epithets
masquerading as patrons of civil etiquette
burying treasure, excavating regret
missing entire letters from life’s alphabet
flustered and bewildered by what we beget
unable to remember, able to forget
that which is sacrosanct, so delicate

The Teens

Back in high school as an invisible outcast
A nameless zero minus colors or masts
living the prophecy that the last shall be last

A negligible adolescent full of yearning need
neither good nor bad, just a nothing seed
diminishing quietly of an internal bleed

Getting by minus a call and response spotlight
an insignificant life lacking both fight or flight
sporting a demeanor of empty vessel blight

A favorite one to nobody under the sun
life a daily fantasy of visualizing dry runs
so much easier dreamed than ever done

Heaven and hell were but just the same
with a daily basis of stakeless claims
desperate to get some skin in the game

Infatuated with girls but illiterate to cues
aching for the smallest endorsement of value
adrift in a vacuum with no from or to

The yearbook, my name plus an empty page
four years in a play performed backstage
a rosetta-less stone of the years teenage

Now but just a question for trivial pursuit
a who was that guy lacking any repute?
Still caring about those ladders and chutes

Resurrection

Prologue

Whether sister, brother, sinner or saint
travail and grace reside throughout our house
and blindness, lured by our halos and demons
eclipses our pathway and obscures our rooms…

Beginning Again

Stripped of earthly veneer, I am naked to the world
the marks of this temporal crucible apparent to all
my cloak, woven of secrets and lies, liberated
revealing a past of impenetrable, well-versed charade

An arrhythmic rebirth, a future offering renewal
my gait unsure, as if balancing on a tenuous cable
the vision of gossamer wings glimmering in the distance
a harbinger witness to the birthright of redemption

Clutching at fervent dreams and chimerical visions
a faraway echo guides me, whispering, chiding
‘there is but one true pathway and it is through the heart
but one wonder of the world, it is love’