Category: Syllable Tapestries

Love,

What a pretentious verb.

What does it really mean?

I embrace you

I sentence you.

I die of you.

 

My life flows with it.

With time

I’ve built dams about

Using pieces of rubble.

Such a muddy heart.

A syllable tapestry.

A man touched by the moon.

Drops of water splash up,

Dampen my face

As my bare feet strike the surface of the river

Heel first followed by the front pad

Bending

my toes thrust bearing me a little further

Down the cold river

As I march to the ocean.

It’s said.

My arrogant faith carries me

across these cold rushing waters of life

But honestly,

The thought of drowning with each step

Keeps me above;

For I cannot swim

Just cooked  dinner:

some veggies,

and a seared Red Snapper.

What would I call it?

I don’t know,

it’s ad lib cooking;

let’s see what’s in the fridge cooking;

albeit,

as I put it on my plate,

I think, man, I need some rice.

But it’s too late.

I need someone to cook the rice.

When I cook family meal at work,

one of other cooks asks “what can I do to help?”

I reply. “Cook some rice.”

I almost don’t remember how to cook rice.

It’s been so long.

I’ve got rice here. I just don’t cook it.

Maybe, I need to put an add in the newspaper,

or on Craigslist or some message board on the internet.

“Help wanted.

a person to cook rice

stay around and talk awhile

and eat dinner with me.”

Fact, Truth, and Faith.
1
Fact.
It’s a word my father loved so much.
Facts are those things which happen,
or just are.
[dic. Meaning]
examples, you ask.
Well, let me see.
I’m a man, or I’m a hybrid native american
Or I went to college, or I lived on the tar river.
Or I’m a chef, or I’m a painter, or I’m a poet, etc., etc.
These are things which are a part of me,
and that I can not change.
I can choose not to practice them anymore
But I can not change the fact that I am these things.
They are my history,
my building blocks which make me what I am,
and brings me to the truths.
2
Truths.
This is a word that can end friendships, loves,
Or even send you to jail for five years,
maybe even life.
History can not be written without truths,
Albeit, truths are strange creatures;
Because everybody has their own.
Truths are perspectives of the facts.
and sometimes when someone talks of facts,
it’s their angle in which they saw the fact,
that they are telling you about.
Fact: there is a tree standing in the yard.
How we perceive that tree is the truth.
When I see a tree, I see a living creature, a friend,
Whom I can go and sit down under and write,
Or talk to, or just sleep under or in;
However, another man could gaze upon that same very tree
And see wood to build a house, or pulp to make a box or paper,
Or a bird sees it as a house, etc., etc.
Faith.
Such a complicated word, yet so simple.
One must have faith,
or not.
With faith
you may just see
the many truths around the facts.