Somewhere in the Middle

Somewhere in the middle

between right and wrong

lies a heart that is broken

and the words to a song

where misfits

like me

provide jocular glee

and acknowledgement is based

on where one can pee

 

Where memes glorify

they make fun of your pain

where tongue in cheek humor

makes you wince in disdain

When people are dying

and what misery, from whence

One can say it’s their own fault

’cause they’ve got no good sense

One forgets that one ever

felt forgotten and small

 

and instead of being a door to God

they’re the wall

 

 

This Living of Peace

Peace is something I can choose and there is no separation in the body. The separate self wants to make it about them or about me. It is about us, connection that needs no longing or clinging. If I see separation, it is based on the old way of being. The practice of living out peace is too important for the weakness of humanity to interrupt it. The humaneness of humanity is to precious, and precludes any rejection of humanity. The lack of humility that causes rejection is a lack of connection. I reject the rejection of people as who they appear to be. I embrace who they will be. They both like and hate and also are ambivalent to me, and I accept all things. I focus in.

I negate the negative, cross it out, toss it out, and go back forgivingly toward the focus again, for the brain will get trained in opening the promised pathways. These are the lessons I thought I learned before the home world got rocked. I am thinking now that I am learning it, until the next new transaction occurs that transforms me from the me who knows to the me who knows more.

Pink Flamingo Haven

It will be fun meeting all the real people who are like the potential image. They are out there, waiting around the corner, perched on my lawn.

I met one such friend the other day. Out walking in the wooded wild we were, and juxtaposed with this picture was the framing of a baby’s face. It was lovely to enter a synchronized tangent; I felt like I was in the height of natural fashion, the agelessness of my very own purple-pink skin.

When my lips curled up at each end, with a dimple forming ever so slightly above the crease, every wrinkle just softened into the peace of knowing those with whom I never speak are as close as peace to an angel. But if this be heaven, our haven, then why do we feel so craven? Patience is that little edge of heart, racing, that says you can make it and slays to the waning.

I almost thought the time in between two sightings had become seamless, less seemingly real than a prayer.  But for them that be, for whom I wish, I wish, I, like you; you are the potential image of all the people who are real, waiting around the corner, around the corner of the creases of my upward-ended curling, flamingo lips.

When BEing Burns Bridges

When being burns bridges

and a straight jacket

is a

City of the righteous

containing your

Soul

so that Other can please its

Angry Idols

and make of YOU

an example they’ve never known

Until their own wounding

becomes their baseline,

becomes their home

 

When one is that thing

that is WRONG with the world

and Jesus smiles

with pure understanding…

Go and sin no more

For

in not letting their judgment destroy you

You could

instead be healed

By MY Love,

My love,

Be Imperfectly

waiting in Love

 

The Day I Stopped Following Myself

What I said

was nobody’s business

but I made sure that the world heard it

That’s when I realized

Nobody cared who I was voting for

or whether I prayed in kindness for this group

or for these others to get their act together

or even whether I thought I had arrived at a place to know

which was which

 

I stopped following myself

the day I got so offended and hurt

that I had to tell myself what I thought

I should already know

 

And I couldn’t keep quiet

until I knew it would do no good

Then I effectively quit caring

whether I said anything

out there

at all.