Fear

Penetration

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What does it take

to penetrate

the walls you make

for protection’s sake?

How do I get

to you

into you

through you?

What am I to do?

I come,

you run;

I confide,

you hide;

I offer space,

you then hesitate.

What does it take

to penetrate

your mind

your heart

your body

your soul?

How to release

some of that control

to which you hold

as if it is gold?

A body so tight,

a mind attuned to fight

or flight.

Yet, underneath,

I see a spirit

seeking an invite,

desperate for a way out.

When you are ready

to let me in,

to be the feminine

to my masculine,

I’ll come running.

When you are

no longer so scared,

I’ll be there.

When your mighty walls

finally

crumble and fall,

I offer myself

at our beck and call.

 

 

Au Cœur

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Walking around

the City streets,

this piece of graffiti

I repeatedly meet.

It reads

to me:

Protect your Heart.

“Why?”

I wonder.

“Is such a thing

even possible?”

I ponder.

Is not

The Heart

meant

to be used,

broken open

and well spent?

Le Cœur,

it will never relent,

nor exhibit

sustained discontent,

doing that

for which

it was sent.

The grand design,

the clear intent

for us to be truly,

in life, content.

Strong and resilient,

The Heart,

also very smart,

crafted this way

from the very start.

Unlike a piece

of rare fine art,

The Heart

is not made

to be placed

on a wall

deemed too delicate

to fall.

No, no, no, no, no!

Not at all!

I contend

to me and friends:

Lay bare,

Le Cœur,

even as scared,

it’ll take you there,

that place,

that divine space

where only

COURage makes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unfinished Business

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How long has it been

since we left our secluded Nest?

Three years now, yes?

Hence, why now, your text,

your desire to reconnect?

You “miss me”

you say.

I am perplexed,

wary of this play.

We project unto others,

I’ve learned.

Can’t take it personal;

Can’t let it burn.

No accidents in this Life.

God’s Hand in all-

the good, the strife;

the rise, the falls.

What is the plan here?

Why now you call

after we disappeared?

Out of the blue?

Really is that true?

Did I subconsciously summon you?

Your re-emergence,

the unexpected answer

to a relentless prayer

born of a sharp life sidetrack

from which I can’t seem to get back?

You, a musician,

have you come back

as my physician-

to help me heal,

to bring me back to what is deemed “real”

to get my head out of the clouds

so I may dwell in the now?

And of you,

what is it you sought me out to do?

What of your deepest prayer

that brought me to your mind’s outermost layer?

What inspired the vulnerability

to risk bravely

to offer/say

might we again relate?

Perhaps, as no happenstance,

this right here,

merely a hallowed chance

for unfinished business from past

to mitigate current circumstance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the kiss

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still,

the most perfect

of my life.

back then,

I, a relative neophyte,

standing in unfamiliar land

with a seasoned ladies’ man.

he, skilled in the art of

seduction and tease.

me, scared, excited

and so very intrigued.

he, leans in

confidently.

me, inside, trembling

nervously.

our lips

lock

instantaneously.

my heart

stops-

literally.

in me,

some things have shifted-

a veil, heavy weights

have been lifted.

suddenly, inexplicable-

as if from an old

body memory-

I can give

and receive

pleasure

in equal measure.

exploring, digging ever deeper,

for boundless treasure

within, first, myself

and, then thus, the “other.”

I am

no longer me, no we-

just utter and complete transparency.

I have become untethered and free!

the depth, the intensity,

makes me oh so heady!

the Kiss

becomes an intricate dance-

at times, a fiery flamenco,

next a little funky disco-

we’re lost inside an exquisite trance.

so sublime,

we’ve no sense of space and time.

who am I?

 

judgement Monkey

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jumping around

all upside my head

screaming

hollerin’

just plain carrying on.

“please go back to bed;

leave me the hell alone!”

i said.

you ignored me-

as usual-

instead.

determined to take over my mind;

to, again,

turn me against me,

cruel and unkind.

won’t let you, Monkey-

no, not this time!

for I am determined to see–

to see you.

to see Truth.

won’t let you drive me

back to that Abyss.

no, this time Monkey,

you will cease to exist!

i am determined to see

differently,

to be free of Monkey,

believe in me steeped in He.

to go toward the Light,

know all’s alright,

that this too shall pass,

for nothing ever lasts.

The life of a Cosmopolitan Sardine

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I feel trapped

like a caged rat

no room to read

let alone breathe

little in the way of personal space

with strangers, nearly face-to-face

signal problems and delays

prolong the agony and the pain

very few smiles

many more scowls

odors jarringly unfamiliar

compete with daring young dancers

to the senses, viciously assault

without so much a second thought

hey, this is New York

ain’t nobody give a f***!

suck it up, yo’!

don’t you know

this is the price paid

the sacrifice made

for the privilege

of residing

in this space-

beyond congested, yes,

but also

the first, the Greatest

City on Earth!

you make it here

Sinatra swears

you make it anywhere

just be aware

that it’ll cost ya

claustrophobe ya

relentlessly contain ya

hot or cold

young or old

this is how

the N to the Y to the C

rolls…

do you see what I see?

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come to me, Beloved.

come, straight with not a hint of a chaser:

no art on your face

nor hair made up and straight.

come to me in your most natural state.

allow me to see exactly what God done create.

let me see you in the “harsh” Light,

not just undercover “protected” by the night.

My Love, why the masks?

you know I must ask.

why do you feel you must always run from me,

hiding away your true identity?

what is it you do not wish for me to see?

come, Baby.

sit,

breathe,

be.

then,

look

at

Me.

Look into your mirror through my eyes.

do you see what I see-

your great beauty,

that you are infinitely worthy

just as you are

right now?

in your own eyes,

do you see in you the mystery,

vulnerability,

fragility,

abundant curiosity,

and stubborn audacity?

do you?

really?

and of the fine lines indelibly etched on your face-

do you see your long history and humble ministry?

do you, Baby?

what of your beautiful skin-

scarred, marred, unshaven, uneven?

therein, your unique composition,

not crafted to be ignored,

but deeply appreciated and fully explored.

do you see what I see, Baby?

your True Story,

your ineffable Glory.

 

 

 

 

Ready for Love

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I say I am ready for Love.

I say it rather convincingly

but am I really

ready for

Love?

What exactly am I ready for

when True Love comes a knocking on this here door?

More questions than answers have I:

To him, who will I be?

What of his expectations of me?

Will I measure up? Will I fill his cup?

Will he stay

when my mask melts away

and my Light temporarily fades?

What of me –

Can I handle with calm dignity

the unfamiliar masculine energy?

Can I remain present, outside my protective shell

when communication is perceived as hell?

Can I allow a man to be a Man

and not automatically default to the feminist stance?

Can I trust him fully and completely

when I was taught so differently?

That all said,

in my heart and in my head:

Am I ready for Love?

To it, am I prepared to run –

to run toward that inevitable fire

that is intense, illogical hunger and crazy desire?

Ready to let it burn

without so much as a concern,

confident in whatever of me, of we

remains?

Yes,

I

am!

Been there once, years before.

Now,

I am

I know

I understand

so much more.

Come, Love.

 

 

 

love in-action

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mesmerized, I remain

obsessed, even, as if on cocaine

cannot get enough, don’t stop, but must

deeper and deeper, I am thrust

cannot get enough, don’t stop, but must

falling in “love” and in lust

with a being no longer with us

cannot get enough, don’t stop, but must

tell me, what am I to do,

how am I to be with these thoughts

this bitter and sweet misery

and burning desire to be let free,

to quickly go and join my love in eternity

“not quite yet,” whispers God above

cannot get enough, don’t stop, but must

a boulder stuck in my throat, hot tears in my eyes

love on my mind –

incessantly, sexually, spiritually

“God, please help me,” I plea

don’t want to get enough,

don’t want to stop

but – eventually – must

I remain here

love has disappeared

 

 

 

Off The Wall

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Livin’ crazy that’s the only way. So tonight gotta leave that nine to five upon the shelf. And just enjoy yourself. Groove, let the madness in the music get to you
Life ain’t so bad at all
If you live it off the wall

Off The Wall, the album and song by the incomparable and prodigiously talented, very definition of icon, Michael Jackson. Just a few days ago, in the midst of stumbling across a documentary about Michael’s journey to the making of this extraordinary album, I was literally transported way back in time, back to my prepubescent self. I recalled with stunning (and somewhat terrifying) clarity my dancing in my room with cousins and sisters, clinging to the Off the Wall album, holding it (Michael) close to my chest, singing along to every word on an album that I must have listened to hundreds of times – I could not get enough of Michael – his beautiful and perfect voice seemed to be speaking directly to and into me.

Bon Dieu the power of scent, food and music to return us to another time in our life – years, decades earlier as if no time had passed. We see, hear, taste all exactly as it was. A reminder that we carry all of the different iterations of ourselves within our selves. Nothing is ever really lost or forgotten. The body and Soul store it all and bring it rushing back to us with just the right trigger. Nothing we can do when that chain reaction commences – just hold on, just let it be. Resistance is indeed very futile.

Even as we go back, we eventually return to the present Moment with a new appreciation for the trigger that took us back. When I journeyed back from prepubescence to middle age me, it was as if my eyes had suddenly opened. I could see. There was a renewed relevance to the lyrics of Off the Wall; nuances I could better grasp and appreciate.

Life ain’t so bad at all, if you live it off the wall..

I have never in my life felt “normal.” Even as a child, I could not verbalize that feeling, but I felt it. Something ain’t quite right; I am not like others my age. Well over thirty years later, very little has changed in that sentiment. Now, with “maturity,” I am more accepting of Self than I was back then. This is me, this is it. Take it or leave it.

Life ain’t so bad at all, if you live it off the wall..

I continue to do my best to live my life on the wall (I suppose one would say), keeping myself on the straight and narrow and traditional. Such a responsible path has always felt so utterly and painfully uncomfortable for me, like a straitjacket, like wings clipped, and Spirit dampened.

Life ain’t so bad at all, if you live it off the wall..Live your life off the wall (live it off the wall)

Michael’s words, his commandment to live life off the wall ran through me, washed over me, and continue to reverberate to this Moment. It felt, feels like I am being given permission (finally) to just me authentically me.

Live your life off the wall

A clarion call for me, if ever there was one…Indeed, there is no other choice really. One must be who one really is, lest one dries up like a raisin in the sun, to quote another Great One. Deep in my heart, I believe we are each here, each wonderfully and fiercely crafted to do a particular job for our World. This special role is the byproduct only of authenticity.

Groove, let the madness …{Of Your} music get {in}to you
Life ain’t so bad at all, If you live it off the wall

Not only is life ain’t so bad at all, it is bliss to be you, to be true, to fully self-actualize and gift our World with our unique magnificence. At first glimpse, it may indeed appear that such a life is off the wall. Difference/uniqueness elicit such intense unease in humans. We tend to favor predictability, matters and people placed neatly on the wall where we can easily digest, understand and deem safe – even if on some level we know this safety is a grand illusion. Artists like MJ, provocateurs in our midst both revered and reviled, remind us/warn us of the precariousness of our illusions and whisper in our ears what our Souls (our true Selves) already know…

Livin’ crazy that’s the only way. So tonight gotta leave that nine to five upon the shelf. And just {be} yourself.  Groove, let the madness …{Of Your} music get {in}to you.
Life ain’t so bad at all
If you live it off the wall