I Exam

What is Real?

The wind screams in delight
it groans in desperate pleas
and then I stood and said,
“you’re not real. Only I exist.”
The tornado intimidates with a twist
the hurricane stares you down with an eye
the tsunami swells in orchestral disaster
but I cannot control or choose to believe
where it comes from
where it goes to
or when it is born
or when it dies
Life has an Alpha and Omega
nothing is known, until I think it.

Gravity puts us in our place
it restricts when revived from sleep
and then I stood and said,
“you’re not real. Only I have weight.”
The sparrow soars to sing
the kite will dance in the atmosphere
Icarus’ wings melted in the sun, not fear
but I cannot acknowledge or choose to admit
that something above
keeps someone below
how enlightened in stature
or how enslaving in persecution
life is full of checks and balances
nothing is felt until I feel it.

Blink

Darkness collides with light in a blink-
is it possible to ignore what you see?
can you travel without witnessing your destination?
(blink)
you’ve missed the point
(blink)
stop skipping over the finer details
(blink)
you can control the evil you see
if you wrestle with the light
and receive the pain hiding in the shadows.

ignorance is an eyelid
shut gracefully in a shout of bliss
a noiseless act of defiance
a neglect on the verge of abuse
(blink)
tears flood our sight reservoirs
(blink)
disasters don’t occur when we look away
(blink)
the world is passing away from His/our face-
and we are the blind leading the blind
blink once more and reflect-
the windows to the soul are smeared.

Open Mouth, Insert Words

What have you said today?
Ironically, words are a departure
An exit, or an invite to separation
A barrier construct of clarity
The boundary of distance security-
Meanwhile, the verbal revolving door
Nearer to the wordsmith windmill
Is a gust of literate laboring
An effortless efficacy of information
To publish through the palpable printing press
For an audience awaiting to award the prize
A gold medal of gratuity
The gold medal for a babbling brook.
Words are a trophy room
To impress the wayward visitor
Speechless to describe the shimmer of oration
A competition so vast
An audience so absorbed to receive
Instruction? No.
Advice? Useless.
Truth? Deserted.
What I’ve said is a show, a contest
A war of words in a land of no peace of mind
What have you said today?

A Letter Inspired by Heat

Today at school, sometime around noon, a transformer blew causing all AC units in the school to shut down. This caused a rapid increase in heat, drowsiness, and sleep-induced comas. Before 88 degrees set in, I assigned my kids a writing assignment. They had to write a letter to the school principal, requesting that we permanently remove all AC units from campus. Needless to say, sarcasm was involved. I participated as well, and wrote the following:

Dear Mr. Hutek:

Wow. What a great idea. I have this thing where, all the AC units in the school are removed, and we all live as learn as one with mother earth. Now don’t get carried away just yet. People like their AC, it’s a security blanket for those that are afraid of the heat.

As you know, we live and work in Florida. We are the Sunshine State after all, and we are enslaving ourselves to the shadows of darkness for staying indoors and being duped by the demon known as cold. In fact, I’ll take it a step further—AC units are the devil. I didn’t want to go there, but I had to. Armwood High School is in danger, and you need to know.

Most people think of heat, flames, fire, when it comes to the devil. But those people are wrong. Most of those people are cold-hearted devil worshipers who praise the Dark One in the confines of their ice caves and AC units. I don’t want Armwood to become a dark ice cave that proclaims the Prince of Darkness as its mascot.

Lets kill evil, lets kill the bondage, lets assassinate the enemy to all of mankind. AC Units. You have the power sir, lets move them out of town and enjoy our own little slice of heaven.

God bless.

Mr. Young

Civil Writes for the Public

A stroke of the pen, a stroke of the hand are both alike-
it can embrace the person, and
shun the soul;
it can receive the season, and
release the cold
as stealth as the snake, as rigid as the pike.

A rush of wind, a rush of the word are both alike-
it can soothe the parched, and
smite the hearth;
it can usher the march, and
undo a birth
it trembles as a pulse, it quivers as a strike.

A master of the estate, a slave of the house are both alike-
he can rise in the day, and
fall in the night
she can procure the way, and
prohibit the sight
its frail as a heart, as fragile as an eye.

PED X INC.

We come up to the line
that we should not cross
its sacred ground for pause
while silver is removed from dross

the norm begins at left,
right the to moves swiftly
its quizzical to see opposite reversed
when traveling west in flight

we are alerted by color like sun
in stick figures of black
its a sign of the times
caution while under attack

the journey begins when small
corporately when we get old
as parents X marks the spot
forgotten what we need to hold.

Miscalculated Bride, I Submit to You

In an early time, you were possessed
or maybe, it was I who was possessed
owned, but not bought
seen, but not sought
an error in judgment is why I’m obsessed.

Once long ago, you obeyed command
or perhaps, I never was in command
speak, when spoken to
break, when broken in two
embrace declines in a hierarchy of hands.

In the beginning, he was always your end
or it seems, I am not a means to an end
lost in the leap
crawl in the creep
the barbaric have evolved in a moment of zen.

At the start, you were a price for a reason
indeed, the Lamb sacrificed with no reason
hesitate, then halt
porcine, in fault
in love, we cannot select the season.

One

We are many.
Towns like people, countries like soldiers
Dark as shadow, light as blindness
a world as a kaleidoscope
an earth like a maze
complexities are weeds in a garden
substantials are thorns on a rose
the beauty of remaining grounded
fades like forget-me-nots
drifting frame-by-frame
hidden not by exposure
captured in archaic polaroids.
but who waits to see color bleed?
the only instant gratification
comes from a company of a lot
not a few
not a
one.
The photographer speaks:
“move left, look down, tilt right”
but you don’t.
That doesn’t feel right, that’s not natural
you want to scream, but its not the time
or the place
however, the camera does not lie
all we fear is pausing, being still
preparing for the flash, our head in the stars
when we close our eyes
its an impolite universe
in a head-spinning orbit
we aren’t picture perfect
but worth more than a thousand words
we are many
but a portrait of
one.

Breadth, Length, Height, Depth

If you’re concerned with what I said before,
a mere breath explains it all.
I’m pleased, enthralled
mysterious, then solved
My lungs cannot contain the air of war
Therefore, I speak what I should not absorb.

If you’re exhausted by how far I’ve come
a single step is a stride.
Distance measured with land
growth by grains of sand
My walk is a cadence for a drum
Marching with a drummer who has no from.

If you’re dizzy from standing at the highest of heights,
a blinks provides perspective.
The sight below is past
the heavens above won’t last
Wherever we look is string for a kite
is meant to rise in a gravitational fight.

If you’re searching in a cave-like abyss,
a simple question provides the answers.
Who for what
Streams the cut
The quick comes when you observe the kiss
A romance of spring in the winter’s bliss.