Changing Seasons

the changing of the seasons

is here

right here

sweating a moment ago

being twirled around by the wind now

the leaves are hanging on for their lives

they know that their death is to come soon

ah… its a good twenty degrees cooler today

in one day such a transition

the earmark of fall or winter who knows

its time to let mother nature take a rest

let the air and space reign prominent

time for thought

as the plants and trees

hold on giving thanks to their roots

and for a nomadic version with horizontal roots

’tis the time to find a grounding space

or roll along with the wind

to a place where it’s warmer

delaying the inevitable…

a true possibility

or to embrace the winter

snuggle up with a love

regroup until spring comes…

Thoughts in the Central Valley

to come from a space of love

is at times a hurdle to overcome

when i see the puppet-show

unfolding around me

i get fired up

not always with a smile upon my face

its hard to do in this marketed retail space

but i’m aware of that line

that quintessential line thats drawn

in the sand

all around

even between my brows

a confusion created

upon the clashing

of the left and right brain

of what should be and what is

i can see both or so i think…

so i think….

so i think…

when i let it all go

happiness and love emcompass all

above and below

in all elements and the ether that surrounds

thats not when i reside in the valley

the valley lends to a frown

a hurt back and bore-down shoulders

when i retreat up into the mountains

i cant help but rejoice

to open my hopeful eyes

to take deep breaths

slowing down time

however, my family’s roots

are of hard work under the sun

in the expansive valley

of the desert turned farm land

of california’s san joaquin…

where education is all a charade

i guess its like this everywhere

in some form, regarding whats in fashion

but especially here in the thick

grey polluted air

coming from the conglomerate

of los angeles… the city of angels?

that polluted air is breathed

in shallow breaths

by the plants, by the residents

held in a cloud

between the surrounding mountains

the only way i know how to change this

perspective that i see in this place

is by moving away

by gaining a different view

one with a birds eye

with occasional short visits

while holding my breath

being sure not to stay too long

as suffocation seems to come along

not to worry i’ll still have some breath

just enough to escape a physical death

giving giving giving

until there’s almost nothing left

i love my family, this is true

but its not enough

to convince me that here

is where i should move

thoughts on the american dream

swimming around

in the dream

sometimes in the warmth

in the light way up high

and other times

yes they happen too

i find myself in the deep

dark cold blue

all various shades

of the mighty spectrum

of life… of the dream

the american dream

or whatever that seems

the collective unconscious

the one thats planted

from a bygone era

the one that isnt mine

that isnt yours

but belongs to those

who hold the strings

who orchestrate the show

once i stepped outside

away from the scene

thats its all so mindless

we’ve been cogs in the machine

its hard to see this

when thats all we see

but ive seen more now

and can’t return

i know theres another way

than the “american dream”

that silly silly american dream

or whatever that means…

Light bearer

i’ll hold up the lantern

on the path we’re on

its what you do

when you can see

to help guide others

to be who they can be

hold still with patience

and love

as every passerbyer

is really just me

in various stages

and cutout forms

all the same

even the thorns

The Moment

changing my view

altering perception

taking the moment

letting go of what will be

and embracing its

original conception

living life or dreaming everyday

are all the same

some might say

now is all we have

the past was just a second ago

the future is already right here

so everything is truly

all within reach

keep whats dearest

whats true closest to you

to me… if that is time

then here it is

here i am

in this moment

every moment

living, dreaming, being

smiling at what goes on

observing my actions

looking into the reflections

all with love

an incredible amount of love

for if now is all there is

if it is all just right here

then i choose to be in love

inside and out, all around

its a grand way to be

if this is all we have


debilitating thoughts of perfectionism

of someone else’s point of view

internalized and accepted

oddly enough as our own

somehow thinking that others are better

always feeling a bit inadequate

for reasons that aren’t ours

searching for perfection

when its already here

everything is just as it should be

we are as we are meant

as perfect as the flowers and the trees

as the honey that’s collected

as the changing colors of fall leaves

everything is as it should be

time to let go

that view of perfectionism

is outdated, antiquated and detrimental

to a whole self… a whole being

a whole soul

how can one embrace oneself

if we’re constantly searching

looking up and down

backwards and forwards

while overlooking the obvious…

the source, the root…

the perfection is here, now

free from defects

we are made exactly right

exactly as we are supposed to be

i am

it is

we are


A Beautiful Reflection

looking over at his smiling eyes

a reflection of me

as the sun says goodbye

perched in the meadow

listening to the aspen

a beautiful place

amidst the tall grasses

a lucid dream

so time spent with him seems

with him

or with me

its all the same

but i do like the energy

that circulates back to me again and again

a pure love

as pure as one might find

of two people coming together

without attachment

one and one is one when we unite…

“Placated People Who Play By the Rules”

thoughts of a lover swirl in my head

a migration of energy

uniting in a time and place

where my soul was nourished and fed

just for a moment

a savory introduction

attachments, attachments whatever do they mean?

the stated mores of this reality…

a brilliant connection that can never be seen

dancing around in my head like a dream…

the smells of the flowers

the gentle loving touch of a hand

being led through the thicket

by a soul in the form of a beautiful man

a sharing that was pure

not one of “placated people who play by the rules”

i had to get away

so perhaps i am one of those fools

the memory stays with me

as it always will with you…