My Eyes

I think my eyes are broken

They see more than I would choose

I try to see only what I’d like

But much more keeps getting through

The folks who run this land

Try to help me when they can

They think for me

Tell me what I see

But

My eyes disagree

I think my eyes are broken

They don’t listen to my brain

They see the oppressed people

Angry from their pain

I’d love to see life as you wish it

And tell myself it’s real

I’d love to act so happy

Ignoring how I really feel

But, I feel so much more

I think my eyes are broken

For they don’t work like others do

They see the lies

They see the pain

And what they see seems to be…

True

The Man

I met an unusual man today

Outside the bank of dreams

He was quite old, and spoke in very low tones

He told me that he knew me

He saw the pathway of my life

But my eyes had never met him before

Hard to see his face, and never caught his name

He said he had a message, my life had better change

This was my last chance

To find and hold on to love

He said I had wasted all of my other chances

Too cavalier in my recent past

But he said there was one more coming

And if I ruined this, well, that was it

I’d live the rest of my life alone

But if I loved, nurtured and treasured

With my true heart

I’d never  see him again

That was fine with me

He did not seem like a friend

Blue Dream

Two small children

lead a blind old man

(all of whom may be me)

From behind his dark glasses

Drip bright blue tears

The children’s feet do not touch the ground

They speak in voices I can only feel on my skin

As their mouths open light beams out from within

In the light of those mouths I see an eye

Bright blue and crying

The old man begins singing a song

Of opportunities past and gone

Of loves won and lost

The children laugh and dance

Obviously to a different tune

Growing Pains

So much to learn

So short a time

So much learned

In yet a shorter time

Looking back through the cloudy years

Fragments of scenes come to mind

The awkward boy who only wanted to be liked by his peers

But felt more comfortable around adults

The adolescent, at night in bed

Right hand gripped firmly on my developing body

Hoping self indulgence might be a connection to future love

The young man I was in my twenties, so full of anger and lust

Seeking sexual conquests and self actualization at the same time

Not seeing the difference between ‘I love you’ and ‘I want to fuck you’

Trying to fill that emptiness with approval

So afraid of losing control

I don’t remember having much control

I was out of control