The Sunday Dispatch 2.25.24

[no promises]

delusional, 
at best, we are

with our wishes 
and guarantees 
and hope and plans

there is nothing definite 
but the trickery of the mind

to have us believing 
that tomorrow will arrive.  
*
[given and gone]

desire 
dances 
naked

behind 
burning 
curtains

once offered 
and taken

leaves an echo 
in the hollows of bone

surrounding the fortress 
of the heart.
*
[every eye]   

perception askew
from inside locked doors

from small minds 
will come small worlds

with no room for change 
or natural progression

evolution must have no end

keep learning
keep growing

keep leaning forward 
into the next and the next 
and the next

to be an open 
and understanding soul

in the world at large
is the greatest hope 
for a more peaceful, or 

quite honestly, any, 
future at all.   
*
[every other answer]

tripwires triggered

a slow avalanche 
of tension ensues

comparison conquers 
common sense

emotions muddled 
in the fray

wishes weighed 
against proffer

to settle 
for contentment

or continue to strive 
against the odds.
* 
[down in the out]

ever rounding 
blind corners

as frequencies hail 
from the emptiness

thinking thought not 
of hope’s end

but it seems 
to be creeping up
at an alarming pace

with years and years of no one
nights and nights of nowhere

i sometimes begin to fear 
the deepest, bluest ruin

still remains to be seen.
*
[hand over fist over heart]

words fall
rattling down 
the wires

tripped from vision
on waves of thought

clenched and caressed
forged from broken 
stones of emotion

pieced together anew
upon the fading page.
***
“When everyone has realized
that their birth is a defeat, existence, endurable at last, will seem like the day after a surrender, like the relief and the repose of the conquered.”
-	Emil Cioran

The Sunday Dispatch 2.18.24

[finality in flux]

tradition is nothing 
but stalled transition

a half-assed habit 
of feckless honor

a uselessly fossilized 
collection of thoughts 
unable to evolve toward 
more meaningful plateaus 
of inclusion and integrity

only to crack and yellow 
like the saddest pages of history

hidden from the brightest future 
and left for dead.  
* 
[waiting is wondering why]

convicted by trance
once thought convinced

now shackled 
to dreams stillborn

viciously cycling 
thru the motions

of an undeserving heart
believing its truest lie.   
*
[when all this is gone]

the blue nights 
of ruin and poetry

the solitude 
of what needs 
to be done

the music 
of candlelight 
and rain

and though 
i long for another

i stall at the prospect
of a presence beyond my own.   
*
[loneliness and practicality]

she doesn’t care 
for romance

or deep kisses
or holding hands

but she touches 
a place within my soul
that i never knew was there

she’s a fighter of the good fight
and can do without all the crowds 
and small talk

she likes puzzles 
and talking with her hands

smoking grass and listening to podcasts

smart as a whip 
with a hearty laugh 
that i strive to evoke

she’s nothing like 
what i thought i needed

and so much more 
than i ever thought i deserved

we’ve been around the block a few times
but i think this time could be different

at least 
that’s what my heart 
keeps telling me

even though 
all she’s really looking for
is someone to finish her leftovers.  
*
[bones in the garden]

violets
rooted 
in trauma

risen still
from the grave depths

of once being
beneath the dirt

and now the sky
is but a kiss away.   
***
“We are a society of notoriously
unhappy people: lonely, anxious
destructive, dependent – people who
are glad when we have killed the time
we are trying so hard to save.”
-	Erich Fromm

The Sunday Dispatch 2.11.24

[caught holding]



leaving time

for moments on end


a measurement inexact


for to have left 

is to acknowledge 

it’s grasp



such the sorrowful 

and unnecessary stranglehold 



on existence 

as we know it.   

*

[shallow grave concerns]



defiantly vague

lost in the doubting shadows



cast 

from never mended chasms 

of wounding years



before memory took hold



and began to bury

all the reasons 

to forget.

*

[a line defined]



a simple abstraction

pulled from the ether



dropped into 

the dreaming mind



to dissect 

subconsciously



and bring forth



from inception 

to awakening.

*

[standing in love]



not long after the fall

a conscious cultivation 

must begin



a daily practice

of learning the art



of mastering the theory 

thru such practice



by making it 

your utmost concern



more than success, 

more than money, 

more than power,



more than everything else 

the world has convinced you 

is more important



for one can only 

love one’s best



if truly dedicated 

to knowing how.

*

[nothing for now]



swing the light

from chains of rust



shadows shifting shape

upon the sands of time



memories not yet formed

as thoughts await fallen expectations



from 

the highest hopes

wished for.   

*

[a softer way]



middle roads

fair better

in the long run



an even keel 

is worth the pain endured



steadily onward

toward the brighter horizons



of knowing the truth 

by heart.

***

“Exhaust the little moment.

Soon it dies. And be it gash

or gold it will not come again

in this identical guise.”

-	Gwendolyn Brooks

The Sunday Dispatch 2.4.24

[extinction level]



the vague determination 

that permeates this half-assed baboonery 

of human progress 



is everything 

that belongs 

nowhere



and those of us who realize this 

can ill afford to pay no mind

to our current trajectory.

*

[wretched in dreams]



down in the dark streets

left by love and life’s bitterness



trapped with the devils of reason

drugged and gone   



lords of the wastelands within

somehow knowing we best belong



far from the light 

we ache to seek.

*

[where love is not]



only wishes 

keep me from leaving



of a touch, 

a whisper, 

a hand to hold



simple and serene



but somehow 

forever seeming 

out of place



in my presence.   

*

[a seeming grace]



it’s not always pretty

actually, mostly,

it is not



but moments and windows appear



where the best of us 

comes thru untainted



shining for a loved one

as bright and guiding 

as a breaking dawn



or quite possibly, lending some light 

to a stranger’s deepest darkness



just remember this

all the other times

everything goes to shit.

*

[off the rocks]



still the same 

for what has changed



the same difference 

of changed ways remains



thru static and storm



bide both your time 

and your fucks



for the last thing you want 

is to find out far too late



that you have none 

of either left to give.   

*

[word’s worth]



ballads be damned

but gone without, 

this page be blank



spin the breaking

from rules of yore



know from whereof you speak

and all that came before



neither the first 

nor the last remain



only that which toucheth 

the human heart



eternally.          

***

“intelligence is intuitive

you needn’t learn to love

unless you’ve been taught

to fear and hate”

-	Saul Williams