I'm an American from the west coast. I live in Bodega, California. I lived on the east coast for a few years. It was too different for me to stay. The people, the weather, were all so different. People say you have to follow your career wherever it goes. That may work for some, but for me place is even more important than what we do, because we can 'do' anywhere. Place can be its own purpose, and my place is the west coast.
I have not had any more hardships in my life than anyone else, maybe a few less. I'm not a damaged person tying to work things out, although I do come from a damaged age group. I think history will say of my generation that we were raised like hothouse flowers, and one day the doors of the hothouse were flung open, exposing us to an uncomfortable world that we were never prepared for.
In my opinion, humanity goes through long term cycles, nations are born and die like people. They are born through sacrifice, and die through avarice. The era in which we currently live is one of avarice. Nothing ages well. Everything is created to be ground down. The only thing we can do is attempt to preserve our own dignity.
I started writing poems as an escape. I continue to write for that reason, however, on occasion, I'm awestruck by something I've seen, so escape is slowly turning into inspiration. I hope you find my poems as satisfying a read as they were to write.
Everyone tells us to believe in ourselves. Self respect is important, but what about believing in each other?
Feeling down, I look around at the world passing before me
The sun on its fatalistic arc, streams light through aluminum blinds
A fading afternoon, where nothing was done but wasting time
I slip on my shoes and sunglasses, and then grab my keys.
...
Standing tall on the arid desert floor
An ancient young man throws his arms to heaven
He cannot shout our names but knows us through our brethren
Standing there, year by year, a man of native lore.
...
Tell me what's real, I need to know
For what purpose I don't know, perhaps to grow, but who knows
I remember that town, an arid place, where only people grow
That valley, where the sun in all its glory shows, so acidic on the soul
...
Throughout the ages past and yet to come
In an ocean of pride and cynicism
Hearts filled with truth are never undone
Just as light comes through a prism.
...
Papers strewn about, victims of callous thoughts gone nowhere.
I remember a time, seems so long ago, before our world went asunder.
No weeping, the room is silent, my heart sinking heavily into my chest.
As I remembered that time, when the radiant sun, danced around your dress.
...