Wednesday, November 27, 2013

A Thanksgiving Poem

Thank you Brother Wind,
Blowing sins, far away
Thank you Mother Earth,
Giving shelter, to everyone
Thank you Sunshine,
Keeping daughters warm long after summer's gone
Thank you Nightfall,
Boys come home, the war is over
Every year,
Every year, you reappear
Run through the forest
Barefoot, bleeding hearts out into open arms
The flag firmly in the ground, waives nicely
Welcoming everyone that gathers round-
It comes with the territory
This place still a mystery
Still full of surprises, disguises,
Jesters and wises,
A place where cries out loud of all kinds are allowed
A place where soft, little lullabies can soothe a crowd
And erase fakeness
Saying bye bye to the fraud in us all
Returning us all to grace after the fall
For the higher stuff we ought to laud
We rally, applaud
"Twenty four seven
Earthen is heaven
Authentically picking up the pieces
Giving lives longer leases
We live more,"
Delivering us from the yearlong need to deceive
Interweaving and succeeding at new, truer hellos
The tone, a modest bellow
We, the proud are mellow
And "We eat together, today
Move together, in the same way
The message is clearly on display,"
Gratitude and romance
In the good times we share,
In the bad times we will care for one another,
God made us this way today, amen.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Nature Observes

He walks along the pathway

In a thoughtful way

As if to say

So what it’s only rain—

The buds of bare tree tips

Refrain from growth and coolly quip

How light the

Moisture drip—

Hardened ground

Absorbs the pound

Without so much as a peep,

Noting consistency in sound

All around

Coming from the streets,

Peppered with ice, snow and sleet

Soft and weathered by the wayward sheets—

Rain sleekly freezes over

Begins to cover

In a second’s time, an earlier sentiment

Rebirthing trust in the name

We give to the end of every year

Elemental observance erasing fear

Believing in the old familiar signs

As they appear.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

The Beating Heart of Here

This is a story
In no hurry
See like allegory
World making meaning
Keep believing
In the feelings as they scurry
To the bee bop skit scattering
Life all around
Running rain drops through
Of light

Still frames' bright
Smiles, not in a whiles
Layaway, for the dreary days
Time how it flies
Sights, these snippets
Delight, in every tidbit
Soft, in every sense of singing
Each and every
Happy, sad
Somber, glad song
As each and every one comes along
As each and every one does belong
As all are allowed to flow
Without defining the knowing inside
Of something deeper within resting
Still, that cannot be described
Where truth cannot hide, forever
Within the peaks and valleys of different frequencies
Embedded in the core, always something more
Bringing back stranded versions to shore
Without fail,
Right way breath set sail for the next
Inhale, there are things we do control
The evolution of our souls
Exhale, the world is a tossup
That never lets up
Don't let the teardrops, sneer stopping jeers, reappearing fears
Here, hold you hostage
Clap to the energy
Allow for synergy
Open the cage up
Each and every one
Feel Her light rays
Of energy
Lift you up in levity
So that you are free, do not become what you see
For yours is a story
In no hurry
Reads like allegory
Grounded by the sights and sounds of all around
Bound to nothing
It is glory,
The beating heart of here.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Closer to the Truth

His pride is gone
His eyes are dry,
Who is this guy
And does he come or go along
Unconscious of his leaving?
What tricks are up his sleeve?
Does he believe or self deceive?
The sentiment of bereavement
Brought his heart into the present
For all along his mind hath been repentant
For the past part of him slithering off a serpent, never enough
Backdrop to a third eye now fully open-
All the while
Not until now, without guile
Recoiling in horror
Taking cover
In the unapologetic truth
Of ruthless, couth emerging energy
Of this manly stand
That decides
And weighs decisions
Without fearing the future patchwork incisions
Without needling with suspicion his own indecision-
Rather, nurtures with patience
Taking down the gates that fence in the self pressuring with self prophesizing demands
No longer holding onto former plans
And pipe dreams
That like jail bait weights have shackled
Not allowing for new free form to pick up steam,
A side narrative slowly molding into
Once upon a time a charming lad
A bad caricature for the outside world
To see
And make a mockery of
Someone less than a man sitting behind bars
He himself locked up by the self deceit of scars
Running through error with an empty heart,
With an unfastened, frenzied mind, no longer
For here stands a man
That does not fabricate hope
Nor falsify
That does not laugh at life's greatest treasure
From the loitered dust sparsely glittered with childish notion
That has kept him holding onto
Historically repetitive antics
Desperately frantic
Follow up
Self deprecation
Out of fashion,
Here stands a man, now in season
Picking up the pieces, seeing
Glittering his life
Feeling the
Magic in his soul.

Thursday, November 14, 2013


I lead with my heart,
The writer inside of me
No longer asks, “Is this art?”
I lead with my heart,
The lover inside of me
No longer looks for the start,
Passion is the blood flow
That does not question—
I lead with my heart,
Submit to the transmission of truth, the only judge
I welcome this guidance,
Like those that lead with their hearts!
My heroes
Inspiration from within comes on as
The secretion of inessential urges
My heart to swell, beating louder
Slowly overcoming a heavy head used to speaking first—
My mind listens, all ears and no fear
Chambered muscle unshackling from the wear and tear of weighty overthought,
Together strengthening aura, softening
Surrounding the resounding sound of clear being inside of me now,
A truthful coo,
“This is me and
I Iove you for you.”

Journal Article for School: How Do We Learn?

The general movement of a learning community is upward. Otherwise, it is not a learning community. An individual can only learn so much on his or her own, in the absence of community. I like to think of all learners, myself included, as gradual ascenders up an imagined, “knowledge mountain”, open space for exploration on either side. Along the mountain’s path there are checkpoints, that to us signify successful completion of something tangible; in this example, all coursework specific to the content of a single class, 11th Grade ELA, for a given year. Along the way, learners may have to backtrack, if unable to demonstrate understanding of one or more crucial competencies; for upward trek, is, in these instances, contingent upon mastery. Occasionally, learners should be encouraged to reflect on ground already covered. This too, serves a purpose, easing the process of instructional scaffolding. Every step of the way, learners should have an open window opportunity for looking out over the horizon; scanning, touching, breathing, hearing, speaking the “space” communities “create,” with all five of their senses; allowing for the unbridled exchange of alternate perspectives regarding how we make sense of information as it is gathered and presented; some perspectives, of which, may drastically impact early learners’ growing, shifting, shaping voices the world will eventually come to know. The ELA instructor should select longer texts that ALL students can connect to, regardless of cultural, economic and social background. There are texts that fit the criterion: texts with clear cut universal themes anyone can relate to. Longer texts are not the end all be all for in-class instruction. Novels, rather, are “foundation layers”. The ideal classroom novel becomes a medium, allowing different minds, eyes, ears, and voices to come together in likeness, and discuss amongst themselves what brought them here, to this point in time. Commonality is a threadwork for unity, paving the way for open dialogue with respect to inherent differences; that allows for true growth and upward mobility in both traditional and nontraditional ways. To grow as learners in a communal setting, students must first come together. Supplemental texts and visual materials can be anything and everything on either side of the mountain, connecting back to the foundational text of the novel itself. This type of thought processes empowers students. By validating all students’ current knowledge, teachers encourage their students to go out and search for more. Students bring up other books and articles they have read that make them think of a particular part of the novel, maybe a side narrative, one of the major themes, or turning points. Students draw upon their extensive knowledge of movies, television shows and music lyrics, making connections. The learning community welcomes all of these artifacts as worthy supplements to the unit. Teachers also come forward and share (articles, videos, paintings, poems) supplemental resources, that perhaps, open students’ eyes to historically marginalized alternate viewpoints, with respect to the given theme, idea, or movement under examination. The hope, to open students’ hearts and minds up to the endless possibilities out in the world, and to inspire in them, the drive to look, is what keeps teachers going.

Monday, November 11, 2013

The Seasons and We Change

I'm no better than anyone else,
I just want to better myself,
Save the judgments for some higher power,
Create or die trying
Breathe authenticity in
Every breath
Stand up right where I stand
When I'm someplace true and have to,
Sit and listen like the wind, quietly moving with the elements of conversation,
Attuned to the stations of others' hopes and dreams
Needs and good deeds
With the ease and speed
Of steady patience,
Like a quarter turn
Maintaining equilibrium inside
Between life here on Earth lived
And past life otherworld experience
Up to this very point in time,
Resting, as the autumn leaves of every color do,
Each their own emotion
Every one so beautiful and true
And full of everything that there is,
Fill the streets
Come to meet other streets
These leaves
Pile up in front yards
Where children leap for joy,
Adults rake until their backs grow sore
Just as our forefathers bent over backwards
To give us the gift of a new world
As we watched theirs grow old, as all worlds do
But never these quarter changes,
Always fresh in their every time of year,
All of us enlivened by the kickoff spirit of new season
No one passing judgment
Everyone passing time
As time gives us a pass, for now
To live in harmony
To be humble in our own authenticity
To see clearly others as they are
Near or from afar
Our difference is our similitude
And we are all together
In these divergences.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

A Deeper Love

A Deeper Love


It happens so fast. The labyrinth with twists and turns, doorways, some half open, others blocked off entirely, some frozen over after years of neglect, tingles with life. We step outside and look through the ice. We are the captain of our ship, not unlike any other captain in this way. What we see is as follows: natural light, to the point where it begins to hurt our head.  It flashes like artificial lights hanging from the sides and ceiling of an old battle ship might if there was an announcement to be made. We take it as a warning. We have forgotten that we have but one pulse. We start to remember past parts of our heart, grown cold. The sensations overwhelm us all at once. We think, this is it. But where to begin? We do not immediately find an answer. We are innately aware on some level of the fact that we might not ever. Is there a starting point inside the mind to hide the things we cannot let go of from the person that we love?

Giving love is not receiving love and how do we do it? The snow inside the labyrinth begins to melt on its own. We do not pay this very much mind. We just smile and walk through these old, familiar entrance points once more accessible. We re-familiarize ourselves with the maze. We think that it is love at our doorsteps. Those of us that have known love before find it easier to know when it comes knocking again. No two loves are ever the same; a strange, exciting, threatening phenomena. We praise the immense strength of this power in our presence and cherish the person we have fallen in love with as much as our heart and theirs will allow, for the time we are in love.  

The magic of in love is a fade out fact of all romantic relationships. Some end upon the emergence of this very truth. Others soar to new heights, because they first are willing to dive into great depths, trusting, entirely, in the love of another person and their love for that person. Two people in love that trust in the phenomena that is love give one another a chance to experience love in its deepest sense. Love between two people that began as strangers and have come to know one another and accept one another in full is the only true love.

Often, one person might see something in the other that the person didn’t ever know or dare to look at prior to their union. Love is without trial. When we put either ourselves or our lover on trial for something that cannot be changed we break the covenant. If we have an opportunity to touch the bottom of an ocean, do we take the chance? Do we really take a chance? Or are we already looking for the next beach after the shoreline shifts and we see things for what they really are? There are rocks in every person’s ocean. Not one person is above or below any other in this way. Can we sit with the rocks? If we cannot, they will sink us. When we look to the sky it should be with wings to fly. When we accept everything that cannot be changed inside of ourselves and inside of our lover everything is within reach.

Two souls that start with the magic of in love idealism can keep the candle lit, and let it shine brighter than ever before, with simple, compassionate, open, unapologetic honesty, after the wizardry has worn off. Real love needs only two willing, willful souls that are in love. No one needs to fix anything. Once the natural light inside the labyrinth has steadied and the mind has grown used to the added warmth from a loved and loving heart there are still certain doors that remain closed. What is inside is who we are, on a subconscious level. It should stay there where it belongs. For true love is always conscious; nothing more, and nothing less.  

Friday, November 8, 2013

A Song for Those of Us Loyal to the Starving Artist In Us All

Every winter we return,
Your wisdom setting in
A sun, that burns
A little less bright
For a little less time—
We reminisce, the
Crowds get smaller,
Outdoors a bigger
Other number
In crooked neon lights—
Spite-filled eyes tonight—
Light up this city,
Light up this city,
Backs’ turned to you,
A moon howls back,
Specters entering,
A new day dawns,
A sacrificial fawn,
You always did it the same
Until your heart fades out
You always did it the same
Until your heart fades out
The band played on
You went ahead
We all moved on—
Let’s pick up the pieces,
Let’s pick up the pieces, on your birthday
Together we’ll say that
We’ll stay a while
For old times sake,
Talk about the big break
That’s coming,
The next gig,
Sometime, maybe