Your end?

My end?

Where the hell’s the middle?

You say this.

I say that.

What the hell’s the deal?

In the end

It looks like karma,

and we’re stuck here on the wheel.

You over there.

Me over here.

And where the hell’s the middle?

 

Right where it has always been;

holding your end and mine together.

If it weren’t for the middle

we would fly off altogether;

and our karma would be done

freed from one another.

 

No need to ask the questions

of what and why and wherefore.

The wheel just keeps on turning.

 

The crucial matter comes to this;

Are we ready, willing, able

to let go our desperate grip

on karma’s timeless wheel?

 

And the wheel of karma;

it keeps on turning.

My end?

Your end?

What the hell’s the difference?

 

If the wheel is truly timeless,

no beginning and no end;

where am I going anyway?

How long will it take

to get from where I find myself

to where I think I need to be?

If all along the truth is this;

where I am is where I ought to be

therefore so for you.

 

My end?

Your end?

What the hell’s the difference?

Here we are together

on this timeless karmic wheel.

It seems the only way for balance

is to meet right in the middle.

Your end?

My end?

Where the hell’s the middle?

You say this.

I say that.

What the hell’s the deal?

In the end

It looks like karma,

and we’re stuck here on the wheel.

You over there.

Me over here.

And where the hell’s the middle?

 

Right where it has always been;

holding your end and mine together.

If it weren’t for the middle

we would fly off altogether;

and our karma would be done

freed from one another.

 

No need to ask the questions

of what and why and wherefore.

The wheel just keeps on turning.

 

The crucial matter comes to this;

Are we ready, willing, able

to let go our desperate grip

on karma’s timeless wheel?

 

And the wheel of karma;

it keeps on turning.

My end?

Your end?

What the hell’s the difference?

 

If the wheel is truly timeless,

no beginning and no end;

where am I going anyway?

How long will it take

to get from where I find myself

to where I think I need to be?

If all along the truth is this;

where I am is where I ought to be

therefore so for you.

 

My end?

Your end?

What the hell’s the difference?

Here we are together

on this timeless karmic wheel.

It seems the only way for balance

is to meet right in the middle.

tomorrow

tomorrow occupies a sepulcher
where only the dead survive

silence

i can't hear the silence
it's too deafening
i can't see the silence
it's too obvious
if i can't see or hear the silence,
is it still there ?

Well of loneliness

Staring down another well of loneliness
How deep it really doesn't matter
One can drown in a teaspoon of water

It did not happen

I am seven years old.
My brother is ten.
The beating was brutal.
My brother is recovering consciousness.
I believed he was dead.
My father made us watch,
as he threw him off the wall.

Quick !

Do what is necessary in my head
to forget.

Here and now.

The best way is to
pretend it didn't happen.
I must not speak of it.
No-one must say anything.

It did not happen.

It did not happen.

Not just pretend;
but change the memory itself
Bury whatever is left of it.

Here and now.

It did not happen.

Wild creature

My love is like a wild creature
who visits me at her whim.
I cannot ever expect to know
when she will appear again.

I wait at our familiar rendezvous
hoping for a fleeting glimpse;
enough to inspire more words
of admiration and devotion.

The secret

Come out,
come out,
wherever you are.
I know you're in here.
You dirty little secret.
Gnawing and eating away
at the edges of my soul;
like some voracious parasite
smart enough to know
I must stay alive,
or it will surely die.

A child's prayer

I was seven years old.
I approached the priest in earnest;
"I want to take the lord Jesus into my heart."
He instructed me to kneel and pray with him.

A week passed.

I approached the priest;
"Please, can we try again,
it didn't work.
My father is still drinking and hurting us."

So much for sweet Jesus.

God of the sea

 I am like the aged mariner
 resigned to life on land;
 whose God is of the sea.

 The sirens softly whisper
 upon the ocean breeze;
"Come meet your destiny."

Don't say anything

"Don't say anything!" spoke
the shadow in the doorway.
I was seven years of age.

I lay limp upon the couch,
still recovering from
his grip around my neck.

My first thought was
to never tell my mother.
He would surely kill me
if I dared speak a word.

I'll never forget his eyes,
like some feral animal
as he squeezed my throat

Vision narrowed to a point.
I was certain I was dying.
Just as I was blacking out
his eyes began to clear.

He saw what he was doing,
dropped me like a rag doll
onto that tatty old couch.

"Don't say anything!" spoke
the shadow in the doorway.

The storm

The storm is brewing.

I smell it in the air.

I am panicking.

I fear this tempest

might cost my life.

The wind picks up,

hard and fast.

The storm is raging now.

Bitter rain engulfs me.

I can barely breathe.

Everything seems bleak.

I am stuck in mud,

which seems forever.

I pray to be relieved 

of this daily nightmare.

I believe prayers are futile.

My God created the storm.

Sometimes

I commit myself to God;
sometimes,
not often.

I believe in God;
sometimes,
not often.

I pray to God;
sometimes,
not often.

God is with me;
sometimes,
not often.

My love is true

My love for you is true;

though we have never met.

I will not lie to you.

I will not steal from you.

I will not con or cheat you.

I will bare my soul to you.

You are my beloved audience.

Without you there is no purpose.

I know that I will die for you.

Every breath of life that's left

will be sacrificed at your altar.

My love for you is true.

Nothing less

Sweet Mary Jane

bade me follow where she led

I went eagerly.

She was my life's one true love.

All the others,

there were many,

could not promise

what she offered with ease.

She gave me God.

Nothing less

She introduced me to eternity

Nothing less

She restored my soul

Nothing less

She consoled me during times of strife

Nothing less

She gave me courage to face my demons

Nothing less

She was all and everything

Nothing less

When I committed myself to her

before that God, for eternity;

She took it all away.
Nothing less.

Sweet Mary Jane;

though you left me broken,
dying in the street;

I still love you

for what you gave me.

There would be no God;
no comprehension of eternity.

The empty page

I gaze into the bleakness of the empty page,
engulfed by a sense of futility and despair.

I am like the man who keeps fishing

though he knows the river is spent.

I cast my line into the milky pool,

choosing to believe there’s one more prize.

My senses cry this is wasted time,

and there is no reason for hope.

But it’s not hope that keeps me

here before the barren page.

Some inner knowing tells me

what I seek beneath the surface

is faith.

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wil kavi

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