abilene paradox…

how has time
changed
you
what dreams
have
you forgotten
or
abandoned
leaving
empty spaces
in
your heart
and
mind
seen by some
as
a far away look
or
just plain emptiness
that
you
cannot explain
to
those who ask
is there something wrong
a question
rarely answered
in
truth
just the typical offering
of
empty platitudes
things are fine
nothing to worry about
couldn’t be better
or
some other
verbal detour
from
the truth
served up with a practiced smile
but
closing your eyes
you can see
that empty space
but
you decide
to
move on
into
the new day
without
what’s been missing
for
so long

 

something i should have repeated…

i travel
an empty road
night driving
away from you
your tears
still fresh
in my eyes
last meeting
my choice
inside
something
just didn’t feel
right
you’re
perfect
in everyone’s eyes
but
mine
my words
weren’t heard
by you
hurt deafens
finally
just walked away
nothing left
to
say
nothing to hear
but
the
silence
of
an empty road

 

and the joke’s on us…

like
a proverbial joke
we can see
the light
at the end
of
the tunnel
but
here’s the punchline
it’s
death’s train
all the stations
along
the
way
life’s stages
were places
we
could not stay
no matter
how much
we enjoyed
them
so
here
we are
living
another platitude
looking death in the face

 

just an old poet…

don’t write me
no epic poems
bout life’s struggles
don’t
need
your words
i lived it
and
don’t tell me
how
some
shiny city
on
the hill
awaits
me
cause
there ain’t no bus service
from
this part of town
to
there
oh your voice
still
resonates
with
hope and faith
but
you’ve yet
to
really
start your journey
after
you’ve toiled
in the smog
of
injustice
and
hate
for
a while
then
try clearing your throat
and
say those words
again
hell
did you really believe
there was a chance
for
unity
even when
a wannabe dictator
tried to overthrow
the government
with
murder and mayhem
congress
couldn’t join together
to do
the right thing
so please
read your optimistic
onomatopoeia lines
to yourself
cause
unity
has not
or
ever will be
possible
when hate
is seared
into
the hearts
of
people

 

escape from each other…

we are
from
the beginning
confined
to
within the lines
from
kindergarten
until
we are
unceremoniously
covered
with dirt
and
placed
into neat rows
with
the occasional
rebel
stuffed
into
a ceramic jar
a jar
to
be placed upon the shelf
along with
the
other
knickknacks
collections
of
framed
photos
or
mementos
from
cruise ships
none the less
we are
still confined
to
stay within
the
predefined borders
of
existence
attempts
to
escape
through meditation
or
encampment
at
some
wall to wall
walden pond
merely
represents
movement
to
another part
of
life’s venn diagram
it seems different
but
one’s thoughts
are
still within the cramped space
of
musings of others
unable
to
truly
be
independent

 

self-delusion…

can your recall
their names
those
people
you called
lifelong friends
can you
recall their
face
their voice
the warmness
of
their touch
oh
it’s not a crime
if
you can’t
but
it’s
a reminder
you
will be
forgotten

 

missionary work…

 

after returning home
to
africa
a friend
wrote
don’t mean
any
offense
but
after
studying history
and
seeing
what’s
recently transpired
your nation
has
never been
as
advertised
united