Interconnection (a poem)

God came to me in the night
In a reverie glowing with love
She said the anxieties of the world
Are human manifested
Inside a cauldron of confusion
But if we move beyond
The duality of black and white
See the goodness amid the bad
New colors burst, evoking
Interpersonal landscapes
Where sin is but an echo
That has faded and worn
And the interconnection
Of all beings, flows at the core
Of our weary, tired souls

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New Commitments (a poem)

The decisions we make
Reverberate through time
We take vows; we make promises
They bind us together
Life comes at us quickly
Throws us off-kilter
Time passes and
We don’t see the hourglass empty
How we live each day
Is how we spend a lifetime
And if the vows we make
Aren’t strong enough
We fortify them with new
Commitments, each minute,
Hour, day, and eternal now

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Do The Right Thing (a poem)

Do the right thing, they say
It's not always the easiest thing
And those frantic days
And those homesick nights
It can wear you down
Is there a reward for this?
Probably not
Love is its own reward
But is love enough?
Sometimes, not always
Let the time pass
And the days turn into dusk
Spend a lifetime doing the right things
With no heaven as a reward
But merely the assurance
Of a lifetime of hard-fought
Difficult, warm love

Meet Me in the Infinite World (a poem)

Meet me at the cell block
Where G-d is in the penitentiary with the lifers
Where she says things that make no sense
And hears things only she understands

Meet me in the garden of night
Where G-d is listening to the lovers
Where her whispers caress the tree boughs
And she lights up the starry night sky

Meet me in the desert
Where G-d is with the solitary man
Where she conjures images only he understands
And laughs with each gust of wind

Meet me at the abandoned house in the city
Where G-d is with the junkies
Where she watches over tearfully
As they shiver in the winter cold

Meet me anywhere
Where G-d stays hidden behind the veil
Where she exists in the in-between
As she cries, rejoices, sings, and laments

She is what we cannot know
Will never know
And can only imagine with
A finite mind
In an infinite world

A Dream by William Blake

Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,
All heart-broke, I heard her say:

“Oh my children! do they cry,
Do they hear their father sigh?
Now they look abroad to see,
Now return and weep for me.”

Pitying, I dropped a tear:
But I saw a glow-worm near,
Who replied, “What wailing wight
Calls the watchman of the night?

“I am set to light the ground,
While the beetle goes his round:
Follow now the beetle’s hum;
Little wanderer, hie thee home!”

Note: This poem is in the public domain and can be found here. William Blake (1757-1827) was an English poet, painter, mystic, and printmaker. He was largely unrecognized during his life, but Blake is now considered a seminal figure in the history of poetry and art in the Romantic era.

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Love is More Than Words in a Poem

I can write a poem about love
I can tell her how much I love her
But can I show it?
Can I be there in the dark nights?
Love is more than words on paper
And the vows we have shared
Need to be stronger than the storms of life
It is in these moments
When the road is long and blurry
And the weight gets heavier
That the authenticity of my love
Needs to go beyond mere words in a poem

Stupid Hope (a poem)

Grasping in the dark and there are no meanings here
I have lost all that; a door closed and trapped now
What caused this to happen? When did it all get so dark?
I am no different than anyone else with his share of heartache
My story is not especially sad, but perhaps my brain is broken
Creativity flows forth, and that’s when I sense a lightness
But under the skin, all I see is the muck and grime
I read about what we do to each other – all those crimes
And now all I see is the grief of the world
I write it down and release the bitterness
But nothing seems beautiful like it used to be
Only the plastic sheen of a pornographic culture
Will my God turn on the light in this dark room?
The only thing I do in these moments is hold on to a stupid hope
Each day more of my innocence is lost
Until even the most beautiful sunset seems like desktop wallpaper
But the stupid hope remains, a mustard seed
And I hope it will grow again one day