The Monkey Circus

I miss my friends
From the golden arch circus,

Where hungry crowds witnessed us

Cavorting through hoop rings aflame

Under the deep-fried big-top trapeze

In record time.

Lunch, the tiger's roar,

Brought us together to defend

Against the onslaught of rushes

That trained us to be monkeys-

Frantic bananas at their stations

To pacify the crazed mob.

At dinner, the clowns derailed

In shenanigans at full moon

Birthday carousels behind the lobby,

Amplifying the unicycle gyres,

Decongesting our senses,

Making us free to breathe

A wild love into our crispy hearts.

We juggled the buns, 

Danced under kitchen lights,

Hollered maniacally like geeks

Serving ring masters and beasts

Remote from our team,

Never caring what they thought.

We were the real ones,

The ones who made them money,

Who slayed the endless back door traffic,

Who survived using every acrobatic antic,

We the forgotten freaks and immigrants,

We who built that place.

A Wedding in Springland

You summoned me to a land of eternal spring, your home, where glistening brooks flow among green hills with rocky mounds that look like breasts. Butterflies and flowers fluttered in a calm breeze beneath a carousel of rainbows. You took my hand, making a silent vow, to honor me, to cherish and protect me, without any witnesses, just the holy contract of God. And we walked among the fields as virgins in spirit, you with a spectral devotion of unconditional love, me with a wounded heart that could finally mend. Your love, my angel, is the only suture that can keep me safe. Now we lie together, in eternal slumber, where in dreams I can finally speak to you, where the joy you gave me is a medication from reality. It must be a special and rare occasion, to have married an angel.

Truth on the Cross

The flood gates are opening,
My tears are becoming a river

That drains the sorrows of my soul

Through a rift in the obfuscated earth

Broken by traumas forgotten, others relived.

I hang my head in my hands,

Let it all come out, the pain, the anger,

The question why

The people closest to me

Use my empathy against me.

I went to the cross at night,

Asking for guidance

In the wet church's garden,

Where Jesus would have hung

Feeling pain like mine but in the flesh.

He beseeched me to see the light,

To start taking care of myself

By dealing with my feelings first,

To find peace before they crucify you:

Only then can you truly help others.

Dream Player

Dreamland is a playground

Where our minds experiment

With alternate realities,

Space-times we wished were real,

Or devilishly unwanted.

As we wander in play

So does the mind's eye,

Laminating metaphors

On a story that never ends,

Where cards are shuffled and dealt

Through the endless possibilities.

Win, lose, or draw what you imagine,

Let the flow take hold,

Dance with unconscious shadows,

Roll the dice, conjure movement,

Call, raise, fold, go all-in,

Spin the roulette wheels of time,

Become inspiration.