The Searcher

The searcher – waits – when time stands still
The searcher – abides – by another’s will
The searcher seeks – in silence – dream
To find - to hold – eluding schemes
Wandering – in and out – through days
Intertwining dream and reality – the same
Tempting fate – so - she dare not wait
Give the searcher – an awaited concrete
The searcher – nomadic in deeds unseen
Like a poet – he holds to fading imaginings
Seeking – searching – holding dreams tight
In silence – he dreams – of another’s mans plight
Never wavering – in his constant – examination
Of the heart of man – and his quest of life

A mother was made -

Disclaimer: (If anyone would like to comment to me about this poem, please do so via e-mail at mistyarizona@hotmail.com, as my personal life is very private, and although I draw from my life to write, I never reveal persons identities "and assumptions, you are right, are not very nice". I ask that you respect this, as I have respected, all that you have asked of me.) 

Something beautiful came my way – nine months later - on cold – winters day

Wrapped in linen – the world to see – the sin of love - that grew – inside of me

I labored long – and born the pain – for another woman – who would raise my seed

She who would see – this piece of me – grow and shine – from my womb – would be

She held tight – when I cried out in pain – the loss was mine – for her to gain

Little foot steps – raised far from - my sight – never knowing – my love – given not a gain

She paid her lot – I paid not the same – and gave another – my love – unselfishly – no matter the pain

Years they pass – and who’s to say – what mothers – love is – or how – it may be - kept at a far

Time does not heal – all pains you see – when one thinks – they have bought – the very core of me

If I had known – what I know today – that another felt – I beholden – because of fee – they did pay

Giving - my first love – would have been given to me – for my love holds - no cost - no fee

I have loved all - I hold near – I have never considered fee – a levy to life – giving without love – is not a fair price

So – you go on holding my love – at a cost – you go on holding her tight – at our loss

You have coveted my gift – and lied of me - I am sure – so never to lose – cause – you wanted her – yours - that she is – no one dare say not – because you have the receipt – and then you dared plot

To defile – a love - given not gained – you have distorted my love and made it pure shame

You have caused – this little one – to think badly of me – you have lied – so you may seem – that you are the better of me – and in this – she never will want – look for a love – given without gain but in agony and pain

Oh how my heart grieves – for you - not for me – for in my sin of love  – was given freely – and through your shame – of feeling less than me – you coveted my heart – and closed her away – from a mother who longs to hold her – if only just - once again

In saying this – I know it comes to mind – that I signed her away – so she is yours – not mine – for I am not the mother her – the signature is clear

So this is true and you are in the right – but don’t ever think I don’t care of her plight – I will always wonder – why she dare not look for me – and I know - now it is because thee

You lied and you twisted all that I am – so she would never dare to think she was loved even then – by a young girl – alone and afraid – who gave all that she had – and you a mother was made

calculation of life

Ancient of days – show me all - that you say - that you be

Son of man – say what you will – trillions to one – through divine prophecies

Pour out – your wisdom – from the creed – that you came

“I-shall-be that I-shall-be” – is this wisdom or sum

The calculation of life and where we came from

Or the dogma of many from a fated one

Encoded through all – time – of which - all men will ponder

The creation of life – how our minds do wonder

Yellow Daffodil

In a little wooded house, up atop hill, amongst the quail and yellow daffodil, I dream of a love pure, not tainted from the land. These hands which have toiled under sun,  making way regardless, all that has been done. A love of pure delight that turns all into one, as dawn rises from the east to the west of the setting sun.

Broken lost through time, from my heart I do speak the dreamer in my soul and of love which I do seek.

Through heat storm thundered rain, the smells of fresh renew, falling on top of holed tin roof, as the water does seep through. There is a storm, which rages inward and outward for all to see, a broken heart not known but only to me. As the rain, falls tapping on the holed tin, I look out on the wildness of all that has been done. Through harshness winds that have blow, rivers running wild, through a land of hollowed out sorrow as time pasted long before and with future not yet unlocked because my heart not dare to dream.

Here atop this hill, sitting in my wooded house, gazing through her cracked and weathered panes, I glimpse a mother quail, tending her clutch among the yellow daffodil. The smells of fresh fallen rain still linger in the air. The presents of renewal for all that dare to take, has been poured out on the land which mans toil cannot make.

It is from the heavens of our land, of the south winds that did blow, comes in a love divine, I dare and will take hold. For under brightened sun the grass does gleam with dew, the soft winds fill the air of fallen rains renew. It makes one dare to dream of future dawns not past. A sun that raises, atop a hill which no man dare try grasp.

Here within the yellow daffodil, my mind will wonder far, with visions of a weathered time that may rage onward still but with life brought by storm filled skies, rises dawns morning light and within this, my heart will take flight. Seeking out a dream of loves pure delight. Yellow daffodil are grasped as quail tend their clutch with smells of fresh spilled rain of renewal I dare touch.

Audacity!

politics – a silly people - game we play – judgment of others – with prejudice – we try to sway

great influence – is used to distort and slant – our –“in times” – which we then see – with only a stinted glace

we follow along without reason or rhyme – never checking the facts – what are our “in times” or “seasons”

like a herd of sheep – off to the slaughter – we gather in masses – with no leader – yet we follow

our masses – they gather – with cries – loud and clear – we want to follow – just make the path clear

with narrow-mindedness and preconceptions at hand – we look at our foes – with injustice – in hand

we cry out – yet we slander – all that we see – with no comprehension – that you and I make a – we

then we ask – that our leaders – make us as one – a community of peoples – with a rival - of none

those who cry loudest – will be heard – on this day – with righteous indignation – and hearts do we play

politics – this silly people – game - we do play – with the souls of others – no cares – now kept at bay

the winners in one hand – the loser – in defeat – who cares what the people think – because we follow in masses – with leaders – known not – only seen through the rose colored glasses

the glasses we choose – so not to see – because we are – followers – of the leaders - that be

never caring – and - without understanding – the slaughter is at hand – we the people – have now chosen – the lesser - of evils

the communities of people – that we say – that we are – are just sheep to slaughter – of the politics we play

all of these games – we say make us – one – really just  selfishness – when the day is done

Why?

Because we have the audacity to say that – WE WON!

The Backward Slide

Sharing life – through sowing seed – as a matter of – judgment – we do deceive – requiring others – through our master plan – to gather their hearts – to become one man – looking onward – never back – to see what – makes – another’s past lack – asking only wisdom – from them now - with expectation

we do proceed – by holding accountable – their unknown tale – of the others life – we do judgment to prevail – in breaking the spirit – because we choose to see - only today – as if the past – had no seed – and - can fade away – in this - the others life becomes void – because their experience is required – put aside

we say – go on live – let the other man die – he was worth nothing – and in this - begins – the backward side
along their journey – of stumbling through time - this self made man – had done no crime –other than- to live as though not dead – to live a life without expectation or pride – to hold his head up high - to say – I am here – I am alive

Then along came we – the better ones – life is living - only through what we see - as being - a life worth life indeed – holding accountable all we see – requiring others to live - according to our – self made boundaries

Thus -the backward side – old man dies – but really – he just hides – he holds his head in shame – with grief – no one sees – how we have deceived – how requiring the old life to fade way – has caused new man to dig his own grave – never understanding the old man’s use – the protective skin – of the new man youth

we asked of him and then walked away – leaving the new man bare and afraid – we tell him – all the while – it will be ok – have faith – and we smile – as though faith and a smile – will armor – the shame – of not knowing how to live – according to another’s plan – we gave him the blue prints – of a new life – indeed – but we forgot it takes our hand to help grow the seed

If you are not willing to tend the soil – to remove the weeds – of old – which will come – if you cannot bear the heat – then I ask – don’t bother in planting the seed – for then all you have done – is created a new life that weeds will over run – and in doing so – you created the plan – of another’s grave – which you did not intend - and that is on your hands

Death comes creeping

Death comes creeping 

Death comcy and shows no sign of remorse. Entangles you and twists your soul. Gives, you just enough time to call out why and then one more time take me. 
es creeping around the corner. We never know when it will come or how it will linger. We like to think death will be kind. We wish it would take account of those it leaves behind. It hits you - from all sides, gives no mer
My heart breaks for death. For it knows me not at all. I however know it quite well. If it knew me would it take caution before coming my way? Would it think this can wait for another day? Maybe would it ask how are you are you ok? Can you handle death on this one more day? Does scared have meaning to death? Has the word hope not crossed its mind? Sorrow is a word I think long lost to it however there’s always tomorrow. I know it knows the word tomorrow. Tomorrow always comes. 

I see no way around this death that comes on this day. It comes every day to everyone in some form or another. Some it just grazes and others hits head on. Some may taste only once if lucky and others well we just wait. 

Death comes creeping

Doubt

I am beginning to doubt

Not that Spirit “does not” exist

But rather that man

In all his Infamous folly

Has ceased to use understanding

When seeking mysterious wisdom

Is it any wonder

That this enigma hides in

Allusive shadows waiting

Out our twisted wish

To intertwine the nameless

Into boxes of our self indulgent insight

a fortress without profit

Here within these walls of protection without pain

is the highest of a fortress without profit and no gain

In hoping all would once be as though it were

when I was just little girl and had so much time to grow

Not because I want to relive all the secrets and the shame

of others lives

that through my pain

found their profit and their gain

Of which I live through each and every day

but to think I could start over

sounds good

all just the same

but then I ask how far back would I go

and there is just not a starting point

that does not have a toll

Leighana

I saw you dying
laying there
My heart was sighing
laying there
Your eyes were wishing
laying there
I could not kiss you
laying there
Why does it have to be
this way
I always thought you'd
always stay
You said you'd never go away
Those were the words
I heard you say
When my heart beats in time
I will wish that yours
were mine

Then I'd know
you'd be here now
Wishing me back somehow.

Settle Down

Theres a place that I can go

I like to hide there dont you know

With all my thoughts racing round

Theres just no time to settle down

Wishing I could be like you

Playing laughing jumping too

One day soon I know you'll see

You'll be somewhat more like me

Wishing you could play around

Theres just no time to settle down

We are

It’s a big world – vast – deep – wide
From one side to another
We are
Standing – sitting – walking – running
Standing for something
Standing for nothing
Sitting waiting
Sitting wondering
Walking in and out of each day
Running faster with each day that passes
Running from somewhere
Running to nothing running
All in the hopes of
Finding – seeking – searching – escaping – wishing – dreaming
Out these lofty ideals of this vast world of which it
Hides- holds- tucks away for the searchers
Finding – seeking – searching – escaping – wishing – dreaming
Deep inside
Standing hoping – sitting wishing – walking dreaming
Running – running – running
We are

The Dump

I work for a dumping ground. Not the kind, where on any given day, you will find people rummaging thru old and unwanted commodity or maybe searching out that forgotten antique, searching for any thing of value. I wish it were.
I work for a human dumping ground. Unwanted humanity, indeed, are these. Homes, they have not, family unwilling and willing forgotten and friends in uncertainty. These, used disabled, mentally ill, lost, war struck (some born this way, some made this way and some chose this way) all of them scattered, stranded and left for not, on a six block island in the middle of our vast sprawling AZ County. People, Organizations, Agencies, Cities, Towns, Counties, AZ State and yes even other States, dump here.
No one comes to find their value. No one comes to seek their lost or their sick. Not one comes seeking their wisdom, hope or resolve.

Some, they chose to stay; they have been here far too long.
Some, they have to stay; for without value, where else do they belong.
Some are so frail and worn; they have no choice but to stay.

All these, I take home to my sleep each night, the dumped, the ill, the broken, the damaged in soul, those who no one wants to claim as their own.

So, I rummage thru unwanted souls each day. Each day looking for the value that I will find as great, such things as wisdom, kindness, joy and faith. Even more hope, peace, love, knowledge, perseverance, honor, loyalty, and grace. Blocks of treasures, as far as the eyes can see, with value beyond my greatest too compare!

So, at night when I lay down with unwanted humanity at my side, I ask, are we born to not value, are we made to not value or have we chosen not too value (THE SOULS OF HUMNAITY)?

This is a poem I wrote while working at the homeless campus in down town Phoenix.