true

there's a lot going on

tell me what we're holding on to

tell me it's wrong...

but have they spent some time

thinking about it?

what if they are all wrong?

what if no one's that strong?

and it's quite alright to be

yourself--

ok to live life

free, happy

what if love is the greatest thing

but without so many rules?

who defined the rules?

you say it's God, but tell me the truth

Half As Much

Half as much
what it is, what we think it is
Living on assumptions
Hoping for redemptions
Trying to reconcile
what we think we know
with all we simply don't.

Someone should have told me long before
to check my fear and hope at the door
the weight of Love only One bore
an other feelings we should ignore

Half way house
on my way there,
still far from destination.
Traveling my own routes
Treading my own two boots
Try to reconcile
where we think we'll go
with all our baggage in tow

The Questions We Ask

The questions we come up with
asked time and time again
redefined by respondent,
shaped by experience,
slanted by perspective,
accepted, rejected, refused--she pleas the fifth.
Restated, pondered, addressed with the utmost care.

We ask them, like a knock on the door
of enlightment and truth.
And while answers my change, they
can provide a snapshot of someone's
understanding and thought.

And we ask them of each other
as an expression of the values
we place on what that person thinks,
and ultimately, means to us.

Merci, Paris

Here, a little story of romantic adventure

I've fallen into heart space

the look of her lovely face

Paris, you glow

winking your flirtation

smiling your style.

In your garden I breathed air of joyeux

in your alleys I felt l'esprit du vieille ville

You're black and white with cherry lipstick

You're secret whispers in lover's ears

You are that beauty who knows she's being watched,

adored, desired

who never turns her head.

I sit up on the third floor looking out and down

the sea of arrondissements, slow moving pedestrians,

and chaotic roundabouts.

The spirit of a non-defeatest, adamant to her passions,

sultry in her affairs,

living for freedom of soul and human expression.

I want her--to be part of her

to have her blanket me in her love and liberty.

My Bed Bug Afternoon

Pile it on

loads of laundry

purging of infest furniture

itching of swollen little bites

Season is ending, season is starting

housewarming, homecoming

urban hiking, beach combing

Affirmations are unnecessary

Save your little pills for those in need

Though I miss my City and my Lebanon

I am grateful for my home sweet home

Follow me into the adventure of all the things

that I might

And don't worry if the bed bugs bite

High Tower

You watched the ground break

Steel shard upward to the sky

Giving shape, creating form

Intellectual design

and environmentally sound

An art piece to the community surround

Of what can rise up of dust

Of what we can and what we must

You said the words to make it happen

You gave it vision, and breathed its life

You gave it all you got

But all at what cost

In all that you build

One sight you lost

And now beguiled with guilt

You could build your High Tower

but you never managed to build a meaningful connection

You had yourself, but you neglected the Power

She lead her life within herself

While you celebrated the success of your wealth

Drawn lines

Something will set it apart

You'll recognize it in the moment

it will speak through your heart

but I'm weak now, from sloth and lack of pursuit

waiting for a sound, but the echo is mute

Something's supposed to take hold of me

but the hold is ill-repute

Let's take up to the rooftop and watch for shoot signs

and let the sun fall down and the night unwind

in silence so much is spoken

so much revealed

i recognized it in that moment

and in that moment i was healed

In Boston

You need that time away from your routine.
You need it to see that there's more, and that sometime you get caught up in what is so much less.
The fall here has been a warm blanket for my creativity.
I feel as though the plaques blocking my thinking are loosening, that the straight lines of my routines are now running in wiry veins in random directions of abstract order.
I am composing the internal letter to myself of who I want to be, who I choose to be, and who I will ultimately decided to direct myself to be.
I continue to know that I need much guidance and that there is Someone directing this, and in that I am so comforted and blessed.
In the wave of down-turning season, I find myself freeing myself from old skins and revitalizing new ways of being.
My heart beats contentedly, and I feel a confirmed soundness in my being.
There is much ahead in transition, but alas I do not sense any anxiety or fear. Only trust.
I will swim in this day, and bathe in its kindness and good offering.
I will smile and adorn all passer-bys with a greeting of awakening, of love for their unknown story, for the treasure that they possess that they may not be so focused upon.
I will find my treasure under the tree of the place I once slept;
for life is the journey of leaving home to find...
home.

moderate
a climate heading in dangerous stormy directions
step the wind out of those sails
reel them in quickly
and relax

in this color of day
i sit upon the grass
contemplate
a cool breeze soothes things away
and the uncertainties fade

it all amounts to little more
than piles of problems that play out more in my head
then they need to
it all starts with a smile
and i trade weights for wind instead
because i need to
because it becomes me
and the day is much more than it could have ever been