Pushbuttons

Sports, sex and food,

those are about

the only things in life

that have ever really

interested me,

and I've only been good

at two of those,

well okay,

I used to be good at two,

now,

I only do one well;

technology?

bores the shit out of me,

and on top of that

I don’t really understand it,

yet somehow

here I am,

a highly trained technician,

in a highly technical field,

pushing buttons,

watching red and green lights

go on and off,

thinking about the leftover steak

in the refrigerator,

and the secretary with the nice ass,

or how my daughter

can improve her basketball game,

sometimes I imagine life

living in a stone cottage,

overlooking the ocean

on the western coast of Ireland,

writing whatever comes to mind

all day long,

then walking into the village at night

to drink a few pints,

tell a few lies,

then stumbling home

to crawl in bed

with a good woman,

big and soft,

who moves with passion,

moaning out of control,

and keeps the house clean;

excuse me,

I gotta push a button.

.

.

soon enough

love,

death,

hate,

war;

soon enough,

soon enough;

shadows fall upon

hidden fields,

covering invisible wounds,

followed by morning

inconsistencies,

somewhere lies

middle ground,

fresh and innocent,

untested and true,

struggling among

the forgotten debris,

running from unknown

memories,

lost within all

the other dirty details;

soon enough,

soon enough;

you think you know,

but you do not,

you never can,

you never will,

there is so much more,

so much beyond

all that you can see,

so much more

than you can ever know,

quiet moments,

late night visits,

fallen kingdoms,

far away dreams;

soon enough,

soon enough.

Kathleen

The laughter rings in my ears,

the silence covers the night,

like a worn out lover

inviting everything into its domain,

like flies

in the spider’s web,

echoes of the past

bang into the walls of my mind;

who am I?

how did I get here?

I remember a road

on a dark starless night,

I remember your laughter,

I remember your scream,

I recall everything;

which means nothing.

Ah Kathleen,

your hair was like silk,

you smelled of springtime flowers,

we were young,

we were lovers,

we were soul mates

traveling the road to Dublin,

then you were gone,

I searched for you in the meadow,

but you were not there,

I screamed out your name,

but received no reply;

oh my Kathleen,

where have you gone?

Time has no hold on our love,

our love was greater than time,

it was greater than life,

our love was endless,

timeless,

even death cannot keep me

from you,

remember the moon,

we watched it rise,

you saw the fairies

and called them out by name,

we danced till the new day sun

came out;

oh my Kathleen,

where have you gone?

.

.

O Eire

O Eire,

who could taste your sweetness

and not cry out for more,

who could stand upon your

mighty cliffs,

or walk the banks of

the river Shannon

and not feel your

mystical magic?

Your hills

breathe with life,

so young and fresh,

yet with a wisdom

so ancient and old.

O Eire,

even the mightiest invader

is overwhelmed

by the power of your charm,

succumbing not to your sword

but to your spirit,

you take not their lives,

rather you take their souls,

making them prisoners

to that which they had come

to imprison;

O Eire.

.

.

W. B. Yeats

Welcome old friend,

come in from the cold

and rest awhile,

I recognize your voice,

it is one I have heard

many times before,

the accent was

a little different then,

but still it is the same.

We have talked often

you and I,

during that soft

and painful transition,

as I tried to hold on

to the dark and dying night,

and you patiently waited

for the pale morning dawn,

you must tell me old friend,

have you found that precious

light of a new day,

for which you waited

and searched

for so long?

ah well;

nor could I

hang onto the darkness,

but what difference

does it make?

it is in the trying

that matters most,

you and I

were never born

to live in the black

or the white;

it is the cracks in between

where we belong.

.

.

Commodities

There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs.

Luke 12:2-3

All kinds of animals, birds, reptiles and creatures of the sea are being tamed by man, but no man can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil,  full of deadly poison.

James 3:7-8 

Pride blinds the eyes of those it fills,

creating illusions and deceptions,

turning brother against brother,

sister against sister,

breaking friendships and bonds,

destroying everything in its path;

words spoken in the darkness

find their way into the light.

You choose your relationships

and friendships like commodities,

something to hold on too

when they are useful

and serve a purpose,

something to toss out

like the morning trash

when the usefulness and purpose

are gone.

We are all filthy rags,

we have all fallen short,

eventually we all fail,

no matter how many

positive thoughts we fill our minds with,

no matter what fantasies

we choose to live in,

no matter how much knowledge

we think we know,

no matter what bold words

our tongues spew forth;

in the end

truth is all that survives.

up here

up here,

all your wealth and prestige

don’t mean a thing,

all your well-tanned, good looks,

all your Armani suits and Rolex watches,

all your Rolls Royce’s and BMW’s,

all your witty, funny stories,

all your holier than thou piety,

all your false humility

and self-serving righteousness;

mean nothing at all.

up here,

there is no right or wrong,

no innocence or guilt,

no judgment or blame,

up here it is do or die,

fight or flight,

kill or be killed,

up here dead men

tell tall tales,

up here bullshit walks

and survival talks.

I have been to this edge,

I have seen the emptiness below,

I have gazed into the darkness beyond,

through it all You were there,

through it all You were by my side;

up here,

there is nothing

without You.

.

.