change of state…

change of state

our lives
are sometimes ruled
by inertia
events occur
because
they were set
in motion
years ago
and
we chose
not
to stop
going in
what we knew
was
the wrong
direction
such decisions
leave
the bitter taste
of
what if
lingering
in
our thoughts
especially
as we grow older
gradually
slowing
to
a stop

 

 

fellow travelers…

fellow travelers...

so here we are
standing in the middle
of the road
not sure how
we all got here
but
i know
this doesn’t
end well
some people
are busy
on their iphones
or
ipads
others
wander off
the road for awhile
traveling
or
working
on one thing
or
another
but
everyone
returns
to the road
i must admit
available time
has
not
until recently
been
a factor
in
my decisions
and
i suspect
the rest of the folks
on this road
are
the same
otherwise
why would we all
be
standing
in
the middle
of
the road

 

 

sign language…

sign language2

hands move
in
set patterns
part of
the industrial complex
at 
day’s end
hands move
to
navigate through
dangerous
byways
and
city side streets
at
journey’s end
hands move
in
ritual patterns
to consume
substenance
and
liquid anesthetics
to prepare
for
the rest cycle
but
before the rest
hands move
to
a set pattern
to request
divine intervention
from
the set patterns

 

 

the good citizen…

the good citizen

like everyone
in
middletown
he arose early
and
grabbed
a quick bite
before
heading
off to work
his assignment
each day
was
to
draw perfect circles
in
the sand
with nothing more
than
a willow rod
in
his hand
none
of the circles
were perfect
and
those that
approximated
perfection
were quickly
washed away
by
the tide
one would think
that
discouragement
would soon set in
but
he always accepted
his believed fate
and
day after day
would return
to the same spot
on the beach
and
repeat the task
until
he
was washed away

all merely players….

all merely players

most go through their lives
following a prepared script
then come the last lines
with surprise the last act’s read
though now they want to ad lib
lines must be read as written

 

 

 

without rhyme or reason…

without rhyme or reason

random fragments
of
your life
are
scattered around
the floor
of
your conciousness
as
you shuffle
from
one thought
to
the other
they
become
less
coherent
your past
becomes
indiscernible
from
dreams
and
nightmares
nightmares
that soon
envelop
your days
so your days
become indistinguishable
from nights
now
life
as you had
envisioned it
is
forgotten
only
basic
survival routines
exist
your movements
no longer
have any real purpose
other than
to
sustain
in
an unpremeditated manner
the dreams
and
nightmares

 

 

another routine…

another routine

our time empties out
there are small perforations
in our existence
that go unnoticed as we
move through our daily routines
excused away by us all
until it’s too late
that’s the point when we reflect
upon life’s meaning
and the arrival of death
as it moves ever closer 
consuming all our dreams
we rationalize
that we have had a good life
questions still remain
what about that afterlife
will there really be judgement
eyes close praying for sunrise

 

 

personal assessment…

personal assessment

staring
at
the bottom line
a developing
life
pauses
followed
by
the
usual questions
regarding
purposes
paths taken
and
numerous scenarios
of
what
“ifs”
none
serving
any real purpose
just
a
preprogrammed
academic exercise
like following
a clearly marked path
to
the edge
of
a cliff