The Battlefield

The battlefield exists in my head.
The combatants are regrouping,
re-arming for their next attack.
The home team takes comfort in what they can see;
the logical progression of familiar scenes
narrated in crisp tones with familiar dialogue
while the visitors nod with knowing smirks
And behind the scenes a chorus of naiads
suggest other worlds in their songs

If you choose to listen to this seductive siren
Be prepared for swift ascent to a world of ephemeral ecstasy
and a precipitous plunge to despair,
so my Head coach cautions.
The sirens sing not only for you
They sing for whoever is fool enough to listen to their melodies
And often their sweet harmony will take you down unintended paths
Betraying your trust for their own gratification.

The battlefield languishes
The combatants bide their time
When hope is at its highest,
when I start to utter victorious words,
they will once again take their places
brandish their cruel weapons
camouflaged in beguiling images
destroying certainty,  confounding rational thought.

I Want To Write Comedy

I want to write comedy
My drama queen is near used up
Fresh out of tears
Shirking the heavy cloak
That weighs down my beat up spirit
Seeking a lighter space
A place of gladness in my soul
A spot of sunshine in the garden.

I want to make people laugh
Not to despair for me
To welcome back my steady smile
Anticipate good news
Remembering punch  lines
Delivered with clever timing
Reach out open arms
And draw in this world of beauty.
 

All the tools I need
Are lined up willing ready
Love of family and friends
Treasured memories never to be lost
Hoarding my health for richness of years to come
Generous with caring and love
Wisdom of years past
Still a work in progress.

Someone Else’s Drummer

Someone Else’s Drummer

I saw my shrink today
and pronounced myself cured
I came home tonight
understanding what that meant

Cured of trying to REASON you out of my thoughts
Cured of believing I’ll ever stop caring
Cured of the hope – even the dream
That someday we’ll find a way

Gone is the hope
But not the yearning
My dream has faded
while desire grows and need persists

And so the struggle continues,
once more behind a mocking mask
projecting rational thoughts,
trying to fool the world.

How many of us
live our lives pretending,
marching to the beat
of someone else’s drummer?

Doesn’t Have to

                    

It doesn’t have to be this way

unless we say it does

Balancing on the juncture of

always and nevermore

Clinging to dreams

born in our hearts

tethered by fragile cords 

subject to the whims of what heartless judge

 

 

Draw me paint me mold me

Be the master of my universe

as you are the keeper of all my dreams

Write our script with words of your choosing

born of desire and longing

Subject them to a brighter light

freely given gladly received

treasured truths unveiled.

 

You gave me puzzles

now give me answers

When your heart speaks to you

what does it say?

When your eyes are closed

and the world is still

as you hover on the brink of sleep

where anything is possible in a dream.

 

It doesn’t have to end this way

Unless we say it does

we are the navigators of our way

and the authors of our script

and the guardians of our dreams.

Eschewing the ordinary

rejecting the common wisdom

for an uncommon destiny.