Ode to Earl Grey

I sit at a coffee shop,

I-pod in ears;

Pencil in hand;

Smell of fresh shampoo in hair;

Butterflies of the morning in heart.

I sip my tea,

And think about random things:

What is the Dopler affect?

Should I become Buddist?

Is love a trick the Gods play to make babies?

Why is Earl Grey so fucking good?

Somebody’s talking to me.

I stopped listening at hello.

Something about the dryness of the small talk

Swallowed me up like a dessert.

All I need is my Earl Grey for company:

The taste of warm plastic and

Hot liquid oozing all over my tongue.

I think I’ve found Morning Bliss,

Thank you, Earl Grey.

                     

Negative Entropy

I want negative entropy:

Permeability,

Diversity and

Transiency…..

I want non-platonic love:

Authenticity,

Reality and

Truth.

I want dharma:

Balance,

Direction and

Ones fulfilled task….

I want soul:

Passion,

Sensitivity and

Feeling….

I want self conservation:

Self awareness,

Doubt,

And Questions?

Two Hands

Two hands touch:

One small, one large,

Both connected by the electricity of the air,

And the undercurrent of Mystery

Hiding in the shadow of the eye…

Two hands touch:

One warm, one cold,

Both discovered by the fire flies of the night,

And the Peach Trees

Ripened with opportunity and desire….

Two hands touch:

One goes, one stops

Both search for Unattainable Objects,

And relief

Found in the absence of desire….

No attachments

Everything about Her was too much for Him:

Her spastic laughter;

Her flaming fire;

Her uncontrollable energy;

Her crafty words.....

 

She was cute, but not quite right.

He didn’t like the uncertainty,

And the fear he felt in her presence.

He despised her brown locks of Venus,

Her direct eye contact,

Her beaming smile,

Her skinny body covered in freckles.

Guys like Him just walked away from the girls like Her.

So he did just that:

He left her for some blue sky and the lyrics of Bob Dylan;

Her left her for a musty hotel and a pack of cigarettes;

He left her for a blonde in a bar and little piece of pseudo reality…..

No attachments: that’s all he really wanted.

Today

Today the sky is liberating

The water is changing

The tree is growing

Today the question is flowing

The answer is ebbing

The journey is processing

Today the beat is forming

The lyric is remembering

The song is dancing

Today the curiosity is searching

The wisdom is reflecting

The desire is deciding

Today the now is patient

The beauty is forever

The absolute truth is acknowledged….

Dharma Bum

I wanted to give you everything I had:

The depth of the sea,

The pure honesty of the sky,

The dependable dirt between my toes,

The rain drops sprinkled with laughter and love.

But, you were a nomad-

Wanting the gift of free will,

Bumbling around town

Like a guy from a bad seventies rock band,

Leaving behind a wake of cigarette butts,

And empty stares:

Blue as the sea,

Frosted over by winters chill.

Alone with my gifts-

I froze over, twice more.

The words you left me

As a parting gift

 Stuck to my memory

Like molasses on marble.

All I can see now is the twisted look on your face

As you said:

“Love is not free— I’d rather be a dharma bum.”

Like Jack Curuack, you walked away with that swagger of yours.

Your footsteps mouthed the words:

“I don’t give a fuck.”

And I sat alone,

My spoiling gift in hand:

The complexity became confusion,

The honesty became hatred,

The dependency became drunkenness,

The heart became a pile of sawdust.

And I lost you

To the mystery of the night….

The Clearing

In the clearing

Blank space permeates my veins.

The voice
still at the core

             Sways with the wind,

And shines in the light.

Chaotic perfection

Cannot be documented,

                  Analyzed, or judged.

Only the sun
 understands the roots.

I put my pen down, 

Pick up a leaf, and
Trace my fingers along the
Fading veins.

I let it go

And realize:
The leaf and I
Are kindred spirits


Inspired by blank morning space.

Solitary Man

I watched the solitary man

Sitting on a hill over the city.

Like an angel of darkness,

His frail hands, aimlessly searched

For a truth.

I watched the solitary man

Play the stars like a joker,

Cheating the moonlight.
He hugged the piano keys so tightly,

Suffocating them with his passion.

Barely breathing,

The music choked

The words of his blue heart.

I watched the solitary man

Embrace the pseudo reality of the night.

Cigarette smoke chased the twisted sky.

He didn’t want to surrender to this illusion. 

But, it was too late.

The hurricane had already swallowed the truth…..

Half-Smoked Cigarette

The hipster said  
“I’d like to light you again sometime
Like a pack of Marlborough cigarettes.”
Then he threw his cigarette to the ground,
And left her the same way he found her--
Lost to the night.

Her curls fell to her face
Covering her eyes:
Blue as the sky,
Blue as the void inside...

How many more days of blue
She wondered?
How many days of half -smoked cigarettes,
Almost finished,
But not quite?

He’d be packing his bags the next morning.
He’d be 1000 miles away.
He’d be sitting on the roadside.
He’d be playing a song he wrote at the bus stop
with only blue sky’s ahead.

She’d be at a coffee shop,
Alone
Staring blankly at a newlywed couple:
A hot mess of dimpled smiles and laughter.

She’d start laughing,
No, she’d start crying.
Warm tears would creep down her cheeks.
The memories would play again and again,
Like a broken record player.
She’d want the quiet again,
So she’d grab her cigarette,
Smoke it half way,
And realize, sometimes bad habits
Feel fucking good enough.