can’t carry a tune in a bucket…

the brown bag prophet
was humming
a little tune
as i walked by
i said
that’s an interesting song
he said
it’s my version
of
wade in the water
but
you probably couldn’t recognize it
seems
like
i’ve always been singing
out of tune
guess
i’m not one to harmonize
to
the chorus
of
social expectations
nor
to clap my hands
to the beat
of others
preferring
an off cadence
of course
leaving the close-order drill
to success
results
in some failures
so
my
failures
were
my own fault
as
a number of folks
have been quick
to point out
to me
saying
you should have seen that coming
i did
but
chose
not to compromise
who
i believed myself to be
in order
to leave
parts of my soul
spread across
a lifetime’s journey
as
breadcrumbs
to follow back
from
society’s definition of success
to
where
my identity
still
resides

 

behind door number one…

i’ve begun
to question
the value of these
heart beats
one
after
the other
wondering
if the next one
is going
to offer
some hidden purpose
to my life
or
whether
they are mere
rhythmic patterns
denoting
that
i
should continue on
seeking
my own purpose
and
be not reliant
upon
the heart
to tell me
what
to do
nor
wait for
the mind
to
reveal
what i must
create
on
my own

what the hummingbird taught…

aunt bea
said
looking
at
world events
these
days
makes one feel
that
everything
under god’s heaven
has fallen
into
complete decay
that
nothing
is going right
nor
can
but
as i look out
my window
and
remove
the shroud
of fear
that clouds
my eyes
then
i can see a world
going about its business
ignoring
the foolishness
of humans
knowing
that
survival
is dependent
upon no one
except
ourselves
we must learn
to adapt
and
force
the course
of tomorrow
into
our dreams
not
into
the nightmares
of
submission

with absolute certainty…

with absolute certainty

beyond
the place
of shadows
lie
the crypts
of
forgotten dreams
dried
dense
clumps
of fear
form
rigid foundations
upon which
rest
neither
flowers
nor
seeds of hope
but
the chalky remains
of dreams
dreams encased
within
walls of brittle tears
walls
parched
by
stale
desperate breaths
of waiting
for
the perfect
time
to enter
life