Dented Souls

Out of alignment, bent and maybe a bit off-center

Scratched, used and badly in need of being trued

Rolling like dinged hubcaps mounted crookedly upon wobbly wheels

Always pulling towards the side of the dusty roads they travel

Dented souls with heavy parts sliding around inside when you turn them over

Fractured souls poorly splinted up using broken dreams and lame excuses

Lacerated souls oozing a clear morality into the dirty gutters

Bruised and contused, swelling and stiffening up

Souls grown bent from facing an eternal wind of dogmatic religious propaganda

Layers of grease built up on their undersides from long years on the roads

Rusting, unused souls in our institutions and cemeteries

Souls slowly turning to stone at a rate we cannot sense

Abraded beyond their working tolerance, they squeak and complain

Sagging souls still carrying far too much commercial traffic

Used and recycled, gradually losing the elasticity of their spirituality

Souls with broken and missing parts that won’t boot up no more

Lost souls found at last, spinning slowly in quiet, forgotten eddies

Cut deeply into by sharp objects on their tender and sensitive surfaces

Corroding under decades of the musty-smelling sediments of tears

Splintered souls with sharp and nasty looking edges

Squeaking, un-lubricated social joints and broken shock absorbers

Failing cooling systems and batteries that cannot hold a charge

Souls eviscerated and left to dry oiut in a hot wind, under a merciless sun

Crooked going gnarled, forgetful heading towards dementia

Dropped and cracked souls, not thrown away but likewise, never fixed or used

Fuses blown and then simply removed and live wires twisted together

Dusty souls with grime embedded into cracked surface joints

Attacked by parasites and pestered by noisy, biting charlatans

Mass-produced to last ‘forever’ without any provision for maintenance or repair

Clogged, narrowed and constricted and without any warranty

Factory-sealed but broken open to expose the non-user serviceable parts within

Bloated souls decomposing at the high tide mark on cosmic desert islands

As Darkness Fell We Held Each Other

There was no one there that I could talk to

But hoarse shouting assailed me from all directions

The evidence was simply overwhelming

Still I thrashed about for any faintest clues

The stakes were already quite high but we all stayed in

I lost nothing but my worthless and failing pride

It looked like the rain would not stop falling

We were surprised and then shoved outside

Before the bridge broke it gave no warning

We sat and talked throughout the morning

Pretty soon we always hurried

When they were quite late we began to worry

We never guessed that we were lost

For it seemed we always headed somewhere

There was time to spare as the days grew longer

Then we awoke to cold and dark November

Kept on playing as darkness fell

Tucked them in before I left

Remembered all their lives so well

Now I’m only talking to myself

Watched the leaves fall from the trees

In those windstorms, I too lost branches

Caught up to clouds and their rain began

Missed many details since I always ran

Colors faded with the approach of night

My hair stood up from unseen demons

Felt my chest grow too damn tight

Lost silly dreams of getting even

Saw myself on the surgeon’s table

Kept on thinking I saw some light

Left well enough alone had I been able

Knew only I must awaken in the night

We sat close together as sunset faded

Nothing spoken passed between us

In your brown eyes I saw why I was created

We held each other close as darkness gathered

Vagabond Koans (4)

NorCal

With every footstep dirt appears

Each activity makes a mess

In this fate of repetition

Why wipe the dust away again?

………

Chilly fog evaporates before a stiff damp breeze

October sun rolls over to sleep some more

Still the somber colors begin to reappear

Sharp bird calls pierce the sound of surf

………

Jumbled strata lie exposing multi-million years

Running free to the limits of their ropes on a Friday night

March of the seasons turning into long-term planetary cycles

Little Monday banking on small Friday once again

………

they reach out to grab but not to touch

they raise the volume to overcome their din

they strain to see for all their bright lights

they shout over top their simple thoughts

………

I sip my coffee condensing my latest dreams

Make good meals, stay clean and fit

Travel slowly between peaceful shelters

Play some music, read a book

………

always taking the easy path

peaceful gurgle around the boulders

quietly lapping on sandy shores

river talking where it is hurried

………

big plans for adventure with new skills

confidence born of inexperience

a foolish move at the wrong  moment

well-deserved and painful lesson learned

………

in the twilight, a forest road

off beyond the traffic noise

stately evergreens and a tinkling creek

thick pine needles beneath our bed

I Blinded Myself And Things Got Better

I blinded myself and it made things seem better

I always made sure that I wished to see before I looked

I filtered out the disagreeable in realtime as I listened

I presumed and only then would I try to understand

I put things together just the way I wished that they would fit

I discarded pieces with odd shapes or unpleasant colors

I magnified and expanded that which I found pleasing

I jammed and nailed stuff together which did not really match

I ignored those facts that did not support my beliefs

I quickly forgot things I could not agree with

I did not listen carefully to everything they told me

I swallowed uncritically when it suited my agenda

I rarely played if I could not win

I left things out when I told my stories

I did not do much but still got full credit

I wasted time but let them say that I worked

I made artificial sense out of a mindless confusion

I convinced myself that there really was a trail that I followed

I questioned their false arguments to the finest detail

I overlooked things when necessary without even noticing

I bit my tongue almost accidentally instead of speaking up

I mouthed party lines paid to be written by some and spoken by others

I kept very quiet as all of that kept happening

I opened my mouth when I was certain that it was safely too late

I believed it when they said I was my own worst enemy

I blinded myself and it brought me some relief

I buried myself in their endless projects, all amounting to nothing

I crawled into the bottle on my own precious little free time

I got faith and it cured me of those questions which had nagged me

I just tithed weekly down at my media-spectacular mega-church store

I joined the club and signed up for the trip

I let others steer since I still had many things to do

I filtered my experience through a semi-permeable layer of dogma

I found the choices they presented to be clear and our path straightforward

I focused unquestioningly upon implanted inspirations

I blinded myself even though my eye had never offended me

Help Me To Express Myself In Silence

Help me to find that place just before the happily ever after

Help me to find all those people I keep feeling that I must still meet

Help me to find out where I was during all that lost time

Help me to find those other ways to see and to hear

Help me to listen and to make sure that I can still feel

Help me to overcome these nonsensical fears

Help me not speak just to fill up good silence

Help me to find the path again as I move on every morning

Help me fill the emptiness that slowly replaces my anger

Help me to find just a little time to catch that next oncoming sunset

Help me to live up to my always meager but ever-decreasing potential

Help me to stay up late, sleep soundly and rise very early

Help me to know to ford where the river is slow and shallow enough

Help me to bring back memories from the world in which I sleep

Help me to focus as I am swirled about like dust in a storm

Help me to find all my sheep before this darkness is complete

Help me to find a quiet place to rest as night falls again

Help me to move on though all the work is clearly not done

Help me to laugh loudly and openly, early and often

Help me to put down the bright toys of time-wasting illusion

Help me to merge with the grace of the apple tree as it blossoms

Help me to understand the things that flow from my own creation

Help me to peel back the petals of life’s lotus blossom mandala

Help me to think deeply without harboring any thoughts at all

Help me to know my position as I trace out life’s finite circle

Help me to pray continuously, without words, to no god at all

Help me to use simple silence to express all I ever need to say

Help me to find mercy in this hot and angry, loudly-shouting crowd

Help me to merely achieve the dignity and usefulness of one decaying tree