Simple Man

I’m a simple man

No flash in my pan

Not missed

But remembered

Not invisible

Just transparent

People see through me

To the next item

On their to do list

I don’t really mind

No sadness for me

I like who I am

I get to be me

Vault Into Love

Could the Heart

Be a vault

Holding

Securing

The love

That comes our way

Some choose

To

Hold it

Hoard It

Hide it

Their doors rust

Very hard to open

Others choose

To

Release it

Spend it

Show it

Well oiled doors

Shift

When I was a kid

People talked about transmissions

Now people talk about transgenders

That is quite a shift

Some people see the shift

As our morals going downhill

Others see it as progress upward

Then some just double clutch

Identity is a journey we all partake

Support others with acceptance

Transmission comes from the heart

You're The Wax Beneath My Skis

 It was cold for me never moving

Never knowing a change in scenery
I was content to stay in one place

Not knowing a different life for me

Then you came and showed me what I could be

Did you know that I was a zero

The days before I met you

I never went very fast
I never went very far

You’re the wax beneath my skis

I’ve herringboned up hills slowly

While others pass with ease

At the top I’ve doubled over

Trying to suck air back in me

As the other skiers fade into the trees

Did you know that I was a zero

The days before I met you

I never went very fast
I never went very far

You’re the wax beneath my skis

Now I glide upon the snowscape

Moving with such ease

Finding joy in my travels

Seeing all that I can see

This is a real kicker for me

Did you know that I was a zero

The days before I met you

I never went very fast
I never went very far

You’re the wax beneath my skis

Ergo Ego

A low complement diet is not enough

Nor just taking care in snacking on healthy nods and winks

Drastic measures are now required

It is time to invest in die vesting 

No need to pull the plug

Just deflate

What's His Name

He did so little

 With even less

A testimonial

To his determination

Almost invisible

Yet his presence was needed

Offering a seemly insignificant gift

At just the right time

There Is Nothing Wrong

There is nothing wrong with being old

Just make sure you smell Ok

Broken

I see a landscape broken

Furrows of soil lay open

Waiting for a season

Warm Sun, seeds and rain

This land looks so peaceful

Yet violence has occurred

The sod broken

Steel Discs and Tractor

Breaking up pastoral land

All was fine before the plan

Will it reap what is desired

Or will that  season never come

And sunny hopes darken

Eroding once pastoral land

In The Depths

A rumbling

A dissonance

Not superficial

It is deep within

Like geological plates

Converging

I am so small

How can such a force

Come from within me

A Mark

Must I leave a mark today

To qualify my breath

Must I touch outside of me

To show I did invest

Must my thoughts have action too

Or is the thought enough

Submission

Submission is a discipline

It is by many considered a demeaning word, which speaks of forced servitude and humiliation

Too bad submission has gotten a bad spin, but I understand how personal experience has done it in

Sometimes I think it is best to scrap a word, when the damage seems irreparable

Submission it is time for you to……well submit to public opinion and fade into oblivion

Now that there is a vacuum, how shall it be filled

A new word would be nice and fun

Abeculate v  1. to yield due to compelling evidence. 2. to obey or follow due to a heartfelt commitment. 3.  to freely embrace a pathway of service and love

The challenge is when and to whom to abeculate 

Lost

Lost in a thought

Surrounded by a forest of the mundane

Scary and exhilarating

Shall I retrace my footsteps

 Or shall I continue

I was uncertain where the thought would lead me

There were no familiar landmarks

But the landscape was alluring

If I explored and traveled on

Will I ever find home again  

My Legs Are Old

I had an opportunity to run in a 5K race for free

With plenty of time to get ready, I felt although I had not run for 5 years it would not be difficult

I “ran” for 1 mile

It was no fun

I realized it would take work and dedication to prepare for the race

Just because something is free, doesn’t mean it is worth doing

For me in this case, free was too expensive 

Three Lessons

Learn To Be Alone

Away from the fray of life

Walled from song and voice

For in the silence of one’s self

Is found a voice that only speaks

When nothing else exists

Learn To Listen

You know your words

Your thoughts

Your dreams

Why repeat them too

Everyone you see

Listen to the other’s voice

Seems to be a better choice

Learn To Love

Love is an action

Not a feeling

So you can love

Those not appealing

Looks for ways

To help others succeed

In word

And Thought

And deed

Facial

Facial

The girls don’t like me

For I’m quite unsightly

I’ve tidied and toiled

Perfumed me and oiled

I’ve learned sweet expressions

And avoid deep confessions

But nothing will free me

For when they do see me

My head and it’s features

Remind them of creatures 

White Bread

 I for the most part live in a white bread world

A quiet neighborhood

No drug busts

Popping guns at night

And certainly no rebels, abductions or military coups

I live a simple life that is not driven by possessions or politics

I am learning how to love and give

Opening my life to others who are different than me

Trying to broaden my circular path

But for the most part it is a white bread world

If you read these words

Tell me how I can touch your world

Be a neighbor in some way

Share our humanity

And break bread together

Me

Assessment is subjective

I think I am nice

You think differently

As time progresses

I see your point

Retired

Retired

I am retired

Really retired does not describe what I am now

I do prefer saying I am retreading

Taking the old casing of my life and putting on a new cover

It is a process

Not to be rushed, but I want to keep moving enough to keep from getting a spare tire