Saran Wrap

I want to be like Saran wrap.
Transparent in the eyes,
Wanting you to see his love for you,
Transparent in the hands,
Wanting you to feel all the stuff he’s given to you,
Transparent in the lips,
Wanting you to hear his love poetry for you,
Transparent in the ear,
Wanting to whisper prayers straight up from you,
Transparent in the feet,
Wanting you to feel the holes put there a while back for you.
Transparent in the heart,
Wanting you to pump love from me to you.

But I don’t want to suffocate you.
Blame and kill me, the messenger, for all the inaccuracies
Not the king who sent me.

2000

This is the year of the three zeroes,
Not the dragon from across the western sea.
I will make it an omni-annual event that shows
Kindness in the head and thoughtfulness in the heart of me.

I vow not to remain still,
To relax on simple dishes for dinner,
I promise to not to just watch by the windowsill,
And let my friends grow on the outer and not the inner.

Enter two grand with plans of cloning my favorite aunt,
With plans of reforming welfare and health care,
Enter with plans of ICQ linking my mood to my favorite font.
A new year how will I fair?

My life is a gift to friend and foe.
A gift to another person or people.
Is a gift to smile at wakes and show
My life was a gift that came down through the steeple.

(The one on Main St. – I hope one day you, the reader, and I can meet.)

Minority

Everyone wants to be in the minority,
To fight the tyrants of our age,
Everyone is in this alone
Unless you have been numbed by the fast cut, fast edit music video,
Then you are on the ever-changing bandwagon.
I am alone in all my beliefs
But together with some.
I try not to hold my beliefs and my people too tight,
Afraid of infection but also rejection.
I am the underdog in this rivalry of universal proportions,
But I’ve got the Big Daddy on my side.
If not I need to morph,
Because (like Clives said) nothing is more avant-garde
Than eternal truth.

I tried to run

I tried to run and I tried to hide,
I just couldn’t fight the truth I knew inside,
The only way to win was to lose,
That is the reason that I picked You.

Good Words

I am just a man.
I have filthy robes as black as the pupils that can see them.
I don’t deserve this due like I don’t deserve final deliverance.
The counselor, the principal, the student with the smile
You do not see the pain you created with the good words you bestowed.
I am reaping what I have sown and I can’t take it.
The deluge of good words has created an incendiary spark,
I am just a man I yell.

The polyester millennium shirt bothers me so.
I cannot escape a day without a good word and a question of its origin.
Could not anyone else be me with this rag on!
I cry because of the undeserved love for me.
I cannot handle the compliments,
The good words.
God save me!

Always in the background there is a violet daisy
So irresistible. I want to pluck you from your garden.
I am a knight clad in silver riding a great stead.
But its just fantasy. I am really me!
Lowly me.
I will survive and love and live and cry again.

Dear R. S.

Why is it I have glimpses
Of torture and sex and screaming
After reading Rolling Stone Magazine?
I normally have peace when I read my Bible or listen to music.
Maybe it’s Ginsberg haunting
Me from a few hours ago I read about his mother.
Maybe it’s Ellen & Sharon,
Maybe its Santana’s meditation,
Maybe it’s the inside scoop
On the next pop boy band sensation that I have to love.
Maybe it’s the Camels and Newports, Cowboys and couples,
That have nothing to do with lighting a fire
And inhaling the ashes and smoke.
Maybe it’s the vodka or tequila,
The smiling face of ignorance,
It’s bliss when you can’t remember, right?
Oh, yeah they said that at the bottom of the ad, didn’t they?
Maybe it’s me, but I kinda like confidence and peace and love
Not some perverted manipulation of it.

What am I Doing Here?

I lay beside a tablet of paper.
White as a model’s teeth,
Its virgin surface is hard to see.
Death made this instrument of journaling.
So death is making me into something greater.
Thank you tree,
Or, more appropriately,
The Creator of the tree.

I am moaning words in marker
Onto the aqua lined surface.
Where is the relationship?
Where is the feedback?
Will this page hug me after a long grueling day?
Will this notebook ask me why I am so grim?
We are truly a social creature.

You’re So Pretty, God

You’re so pretty God,
Just the way you are,
I couldn’t imagine anything better,
That’s why I’m not You
There have been numerous metaphors to describe You,
My friends say you’re cold,
But you couldn’t be warmer,
My friends say you’re not close,
But you consume me,
My friends say you don’t care,
But you cared about me enough to give me an older brother,
A perfect Brother to look up to,
Someone so close to you , Father,
Like a bridge to Heaven,
I do not deserve to be your son.

Sister, Spirit, Friend

Wholly spirit, you are so immense and free,
You are the third in the Perfect Three,
Spirit, love me like a mother,
Sister, love me like a brother,
You are so vivid and down to earth,
You are the another that was sent,
I’ve relied on you so much since my second birth,
I now understand what your Brother meant,
Some call you a myth, some a ghost,
You sometimes are a fire ready to char and toast.
You are the invisible hand, I never saw.
I want to deck everyone with "Fa, La, La, La!"
You make me want to dance and praise
So much, I begin to see the future better than past days.

All the Way

You want it all. You want it all.
You wanted me to go all the way,
Didn’t you? I still said, "No."
I’m sorry, I just couldn’t.
I just don’t trust You,
You promised me marriage,
But I just can’t,
Marriage seems a long way off,
Off on the horizon with the Son,
What if You leave?
I will be the fool,
But I know You won’t leave me,
You’re too good to me.
I love you, God,