Hey y’all! I’m reading from my new book, “Shooting Myself in the Dark”. Come over to the Shades of Green Pub on Monday night and share with us your Haikus! Host: Jennifer Juneau. Also featured: Tessa Martin, Miriam Stanley and Chris Heffernan.
Come see me read @ The Bus Stop Cafe, hosted by Michael Graves! Also featuring: Philip Beichtman, Julie Bolt, Art Gatti, Ron Kolm, and Pina Kossman.
Love is present everywhere,
in many different forms,
not just bred for romance.
Take a chance;
hold your arms out
towards the Universes!
All will receive it.
Only when one is
ready & willing to receive,
to give as well as take,
to work & play hard,
to surrender fully,
to not fixate on false hopes
& not press their luck
on empty promises,
when jokes become serious,
when violence is recognized
& eradicated,
when the clueless gain understanding,
when children remember their parents
& to not blame or ridicule them,
when parents see their children as people
& to not blame or ridicule them,
when the pedestals are destroyed,
bubbles are burst,
worldviews transformed,
after digging out of inner abysses,
setting fire to slave-ships of bad thoughts,
taping over the vile voices one invents,
casting themselves down,
shooting themselves in the dark—
when the love of self is alive & kicking,
when the love of others is present,
love is real, tangible,
making the heart beat its dance.
The sun is a hot bruise,
lighting up the now cold bed
where we once laid—
Even though
I will never tell you
where I’ve been,
I will wait forever
for you to call out
my name again
as I search your name feverishly in the sky.
Our names could have been entwined,
sheltered from the jealous sun—
but you disappeared
without leaving behind any possible plans.
I now lie in this bed, used.
O gentle followers,
put down your heavy-laden, colorful bags
& sing songs, & say inspirational words
in your chosen place of worship.
Put down your heavy-laden, colorful bags!
Send forth good thoughts of generosity
in your chosen place of worship.
Provide love & care for your family.
Send forth good thoughts of generosity
& give to those who need.
Provide love & care for your family.
Try to do good this holiday season,
& give to those who need,
& sing songs, & say inspirational words.
Try to do good this holiday season,
O gentle followers!
Third time today,
uptown on Broadway,
I saw flocks of pigeons
gearing up for an orgy,
but this time,
they crowded onto the roof
of the 96th Street
Broadway Mall Community Center,
(its roof is still dripping),
gazing out, keeping warm,
heads bobbing in-time,
watching the ongoing traffic
as if their crowd was listening
to the music of the city,
an invisible rock show.
Afterwords,
when the music died down,
they exited in droves,
wings cutting the sky
of the Upper West Side
all at once,
shaking the heavens.
Tonight
I felt I was dancing on the moon
as it shimmied towards Scorpio.
It was a flying dream,
a mirage for the abundant senses!
About irritants:
When used or provided in the wrong way or amount,
a painful rash results,
or the overall feeling that you want to die.
When used or provided in the right way or amount,
a spark ignites,
lighting up the darkness.
It is the same with love.
You want to forget all the things that they said,
you want to forget all the things that they did.
You want to forget all their treachery & sin,
you want to forget all the times they tried to do you in.
You want to forget all the hurt & the lies,
you want to go through just one day without crying.
You want to forget all the lying & cheating,
you want to forget the sadness of all your grieving.
You want to forget the love that did you wrong,
you want to forget the times you were not strong.
You want to forget the times you were cruel,
you want to forget the classes you took in school.
You want to forget your backtalk & your rage,
you want to stuff your dark parts into a cage,
or a box, & lock the sick things down with a key—
Sure, you can, but it won’t be easy,
because the Box of Pain will open again & again.
We are not perfect; we try not to live in vain
but mistakes & depression will rear their ugly head,
& we often become helpless with dread—
Can we be better? Can we follow the light?
Can we say “Good night” to the night?
Impossible! We were born flawed & slow,
fallen feathers & leaves upon the snow.
None of us is born without pain,
our hearts beat wildly as a runaway train.
We must deal with our own darkness as we go.
Hopefully the madness of our minds won’t grow
as they take apart our lives, sinew by sinew— As tears flow freely, green shoots spark from the ground, anew.
Our shadows
can be spectacular,
only when
evil, sadness, anger
or depression
are not attached
to them.