Poem: An Island

After a decade of thought
and experience
I am forced to admit
that we need community.

It is the reason
that inmates are afraid
of solitary confinement.
Why there are AA meetings
and hacker clubs.

"No man is an island"-
I never really believed that
until today.

Alone, I am sad.
No phone, no computer,
a stranger in a strange place,
I sit next to an old, black, man
with a guitar.
He offers to share a cigarrette
with me
which I accept greedily.
Not because I am out of tobacco,
but because my need to share
with another human being
is so strong,
so tangible,
that I am ready to burst into tears.
My burden seems so heavy.

I see now why I have been
spending so much time
on the computer lately.
So much time reading
and writing;
Blotting out the lonliness.

All this on the verge
of my departure to a foreign land.
Where I will be farther from those
I know and love
and where perhaps
I'll have even less in common
than with those around me.

Of course I am scared.
Terrified, even.
Only a fool would not be.

But I feel this inner urging,
from I know not where,
telling me;
This is the only way to go.
in common

Poem: What I'd Like

Hello, I'd like a small coffee please.
"What kind of roast do you want?"
I don't care.
"Hot or Cold?"
Hot.
"For here or to go?"
I don't care.
"Do you want milk or cream?"
If I want some,
I'll put it in myself.
"Do you want room for cream?"
If I want room,
I'll pour some coffee out.
"Is this cash or credit?"
If you'd have told me the price,
you would have found out.
"Ar you having a nice day?"
None of your business.

Hello I'd like a
small
hot
coffee
to go
I'm paying cash
hold the questions.

Poem: Me

Ah, Me!
I laugh at myself!
Sitting in peace
with a full stomach
under a tree
with money in the bank
and me:
Dwelling on my pain.

The pain which I am
not currently feeling.
The pain which has always been
my greatest foe.

How silly I am
to dwell on that
ugly stick!

When it comes
I will deal with it.
But for now
I must laugh
at myself.
Overdramatic,
morose,
grasping at any straw
that gives me an
excuse
for self-pity.

How good now is
when compared to others.
Other people
and other moments.
I'd better start
appreciating it soon
because before I know it
the pain will be back
and then I will have
no choice
but to laugh.

Poem: Pain #3

Pain is cunning
it cannot be seen
like electricity
you can only tell it's there
by it's action;
grimaces, cries,
groans and moans.

There is no way to prove
how much you hurt
invisible
it exists
only for you

Your body can hurt
your feelings can hurt
your pride can hurt you too.

Like a unifying principle
of nature
ever-present
in every living being.

Surely pain
is a part of God?

Poem: Pain #2

I'll choose some pain
rather than numb
in hopes
to feel more truly.

Take deep breaths
and little rests
and make sure
thoughts are holy

For every day
is not the same
though the mind
may say so

And move through life
a humble being
for Love
is my God's say-so.

Poem: The Ordo Templi Orientis (OTO)

As a child
I spent time
with the OTO;
A "Great Magickal Society
of Occultists."

Oh, how I must have rankled them.
In being the youngest
adjunct by far
a light was cast
on their own immaturity.

I thought them so wise
then
with lofty aims and goals.

But now that I am grown
I see them
in a different light.
Their petty nefariousness
shines to me now
I even see malice
disguised as good tidings
and possibly
Evil
which word I use
not lightly.

Maturity can be a noose
made of light and love.
Every aware
of traps and snares
and schemes
from up above.

Poem: Cunning Pain

Pain is hard to see,
in the beautiful.

Would I rather be ugly
and pain free?
It's hard to say.

Working with others
in worse state than me
I forget about my pain
for a moment.

Cunning how that works.