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
United
Hailing
"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,"
Appreciation,
Thanks,
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.

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.

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
Sound
Life all around
Running rain drops through
Suspension
Of light
Still frames' bright
Smiles, not in a whiles

Layaway, for the dreary days

Undisguised

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

Rather,
Clap to the energy

Allow for synergy
Open the cage up
Each and every one

Emotion
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.

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Muscle

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
Inspire
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.

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.