Everyone is entitled to one dumb mistake in a lifetime, which means I am working a couple of lifetimes ahead.  If this reincarnation thing does not pan out, then I will be in big trouble when the bill comes due.

Loneliness
Summer water, summer stone
Somewhere, lost and all alone
Summer fire, summer wind
Somewhere, there will be a friend.

Be -
not the flame, blazing bright,
Be not the wax ayearning,
Be not the shadows, nor the light,
Be the candle burning.

Rhythm
    What am I doing here?
Rhythm
    My purpose for being...
Rhythm
    What am I living for?
Rhythm
    To strike the next note!

On A Happening
(Why do Writers Write)

A friend asked me the other day
   To come with him and go and play,
'A happening', 
   I believe he called it then.

Where strangers flock
    to play or mock
All in a group,
    for reason thin.

"Foolishness," I said, "I've half a brain
    And I'm smart enough to abstain.
And stay at home not wasting time
    On activity so vain.

"Why must you do this?"
    I demanded and he shrugged.
"Well, why do you write?"
    his rejoinder came.

I could not rest, the idiocy confessed,
    What purpose served by fools
Who gather at some fore-mentioned place
    And follow silly rules?

Why do I write, indeed! 
    I create! 

As fish swim in water,
    I swim in literature
As birds fly through the air,
    I float on metaphor.

Analyze it all we might
    We writers write because we write
And that's the long and short of it,
    Amen.

And yet...
    And yet.... 

...Yet, I could not easily say.
   Do I write for other's praise?
To enlighten fools such as he
    Or warehouse warmth for elder days?

...Yet, rarely do we glorify
   A lone evanescent firefly
Nor praise a single
    facet on a gem

Why do fireflies burn at night?
    Why do swallows southward wing?
Why do salmon swim upstream
    Doing their fishy thing?

And as the salmon swims upstream,
    Thru noble play of gill and fin,
It's not the fact that they do swim
    But that there's a river to swim in.

No, then, not I alone.

There must be those
    For whom my pen doth flow.
They cheer me on when hope is wan
    And feed my soul with their outflow.

Yes, I write because others write,
    While what they've written spurs me on.

Every being is a happening
    An atom suspended solitaire.
Each seeks to belong in bewildering throng
    Though isolated in mid-air.

Though I may glow
        but briefly in the flow,
My feeble flame joins with my mystic kin
    A river of fire
        through the universe,
    An incandescent splinter in the wind.

The world is there and write I must
    I suppose I'll keep on striving `til the end,
The ether of the firmament
    Is where I'll place my trust,
Analyze it `til you're dust,
    We will communicate or bust,
And that's the long and short of it,
    Amen.

-

"I understand," I told my friend,
    "But I can't go with you tonight.
"Lit happens," I said. "You go ahead,"
    "I think I'm going to write."

Entropy 101
Entropy exists...ya gotta deal with it.
The decline of the universe is what it's all about.  Entropy's gonna get you if you don't watch out!
Still...Entropy exists...but don't let that get you down.  So does gravity, and birds fly.

All beings come from God; 
All beings return to God.
It is the eternal verity; 
A circle of perpetuity.

Plaintive wail:
"There is no truth in this world!"
Response:
 "Truth there is, but fragile still,
Who'd prove a truth would force his will."

Harmony:
Never play truth with a heavy hand.
If life were an orchestra,
then truth would be a flute,
played softly amidst the trumpets
and drums of the song.

There's a Cat in my Lap:
This is not a serious poem
    A serious ode would be longer
        and stronger
after the scratches heal.

There's a cat in my lap
   and another on the floor,
        jealous.
I can't get any work done.

I run them off, they're coming back
    Me-yowing pitifully sad,
        sorrowful
with sharp claws.

Gah! I didn't see that one coming
    leaping from the pool table
        startling
she's having fun, 
    but
        I can't get any work done.

More Cats:
First, let me set this straight.
    I don't hate cats.
However, sometimes, in the still of day,
    with the curtains drawn and the
          children away
I hate cats.

They get in my face,
    Tangle my feet,
Make me fall all over the place.
    I trip easily, from a high-school injury.
I hate cats.

Sometimes when I dream,
    A magnificent scheme,
To decorate a castle's halls,
    Or even to scribble on outhouse walls,
I encounter cats.

Holding fragile
    A Bubble of prayer,
Building those castles in midair,
    I trip and stumble down the stair.
I hate cats.

Crossword puzzles, coffee, too,
    A perfect way to start the day.
But dry food doesn't satisfy today.
    They jump upon the table, 'pow!'
        In my plate, meow.
I hate cats.

Cats are fuzzy, kittens purr,
    They're nothing but a ball of fur.
It's enough to make me growl, 'grrr'
    They're so darn cute and cuddly,
        When I want to vent my ire.
I hate cats.

But sometimes it's difficult.


The Purpose & Meaning of Life?:
I have long pondered this question,
Yes, I've researched far and wide,
And I suppose the simplest answer might be,
"To get to the other side."

Bulletin Bored of the Sole

There is a bulletin board of the soul 
Where thoughts are shared behind our brain 
We post these little bits so droll 
And check without spell-keeper's strain

Though at the same time there's 
A river of current connecting all 
Flowing threads of paisley shares Arabesques pinned on the wall

In dreams perused, posted notes
Archetypes seen through varied eyes,
Kaleidoscope nicely when they're wrote,
Seem gospel to one, another, lies.

There's a bulletin board of the soul 
Which we all share equally 
The same thing is seen by all 
But interpreted differently.