[ NaPo 2020 ] In So Many Words

I.
                                
Idled at a crossroads, he's
eyed the old, posted
sign-age; scene: faded
CHILDHOOD DREAMS
LIFELONG GOALS
FANTASIES
painted on arrows
still tacked up
but where these
lead as of late
who knows?
 
I honestly couldn't tell you
 
other than a home
skirting suburbia far
removed from Hell
and civilization too
 
with space enough
between stanzas of poem
to hear himself think
 
And even though
I call his name
seems I can't interest him
in much of anything besides
a hot bath, wine for drink
 
in this dwelling he resides
In quiet of Solitude
 
he decides to not acknowledge me
 
Rude?
 
No ... it's just that
 
in so many words
 
he's grown weary of Life's noise
 
 
 
II.
 
Now, that actualized individual
holding the space
where innumerable paths diverge
towards potentially prosperous
Future outcomes is actually
me
 
... which means the other fellow?
trying to get his attention??
 
Well, so is
he
 
I suppose that sounds
a bit convoluted, as if
we
were people counting three
 
Let this be assured to everyone
despite a track record of running around
in poetry circles as other personas—
such isn't the case
 
I am not
 
because for as long as
I can remember, I was
A  L  O  N  E  R
 
all of which was immediately forgot-
ten about when My Love manifested
in the form of a woman three years earlier
 
See,
 
in so many words
 
I'd become a whole person
again through her
 
 
 
III.

^ Expounding on the aforementioned
reference to a wholeness ^

[ not be confused with a'holeness
which is a-verse; best left for another
April day ... or even afterward in May ]

Ahavati is and was the one
that draws and drew more of my love
out from the well of who
I am

same as Zipporah did when she
inspired Moses to apply himself
for the position he noticed—

HELP WANTED: Shepherd

—tacked up on Mount Sinai
while he was on the lam

In so many words

she brings and brought me
closer to God



IV.

Since perception is key
to understanding
allowing you to see things

differently through key-
holes ( in logic, especially
demanding a price paid in tolls
while in God we trust
as all others pay cash )

please let me clarify—
 
when I do say

"God"

I am
saying the same
as Jane Roberts and Seth,
Esther Hicks and Abraham,
and most certainly
a host of otherworldly others
I'm not
familiar with at present
when they say

"All That Is"

which obviously by its very name
one never can be at apart from
at any given moment to begin with

And yet

in so many words

you are always near and dear to God
until you choose not to be
lieve'n Him



V.

Further clarifying clarification—

after having discovered God
by the age of twenty-five
I never stopped believing in
All That Is

—spent the next two decades
conditioning myself not to trust
that tHis Universe was in my corner

or in my room;
you can lock a parent out
wall yourself off from the world

which was the case until I was barely
living up to my potential, exponential in
giving up on asking for any help
from the without through the within
( that I was consciously aware of )

—a boxer who turned his back
on a manager's best advice
despite enduring spearing
suckerpunches to the side

or a professional wrestler
being counted out after a body
slamming from top turnbuckle

but without the drama of
Why has thou forsaken me?!

It was a quiet, spiritual demise
in an all too physical arena

Then everything changed on
 January 27 through 29
2017 A.D.

( Ahavati Days )

 Prior to then, Life was B.A.D.

( Before Ahavati Days )

In so many words

she was the answer to my prayers

and resurrection


 
VI.

Admittably, I've
been a bit heavy-handed
with biblical metaphor
maulingly manhandling
yawl silly in a coliseum
of collected verse, but ...

this. is. poetry!

or at least I pray
literature starved societies
hundreds to thousands of years away
in dystopian futures fasted forward to
who may possibly die editing
while consuming this colossal EPIC
will interpret it as such;

it is important!

for Ahavati to know how much
her emergence in this existence
of mine has affected me so

and because it is necessary
for you to(o) comprehend why
thus who I am and what
and where this story will go
next, I will have to continue
this story some how—

though, not right now

In so many words

not everything can be said                          
in so many words                          
                           
                           
                           
VII.                          
                         
Ahavati and I hit it off immediately                          
                         
in plain clothes butterfly fashion                          
during tall grass stakeouts before                          
chasing one another about yards                          
throughout daylight hours, then                          
pausing briefly to drink from                          
driveway puddles                          
                         
Relationships winged honestly                          
are poem collabs absent ambiguity-                          
you get to the point with words                          
                         
and we've held none back                          
nor wallowed in sludge of grudge                          
                         
Sometimes, out of frustration                          
a slow releasing of what is                          
mason jarred in your mind                          
will nudge the Universe                          
into causing a flap-                          
                         
usually takes a day or two                          
after the cosmic slap for you                          
to get back up to flight speed                          
                         
She is drawn to boughs of Wisteria                          
                         
Me?                          
                         
Prone to fits of Impatiens                          
                         
In so many words                          
                         
I am slow to leave my chrysalis                          
                         
                         
                         
VIII.                        
                         
For years I had confused                        
an infinite amount of patience                        
with despair born of its contrast                        
                         
I don't give up                        
                         
and wallowed in the afterbirth                        
                         
I Don't Give Up                        
                         
But I did                        
                         
I DON'T GIVE UP                        
                         
surrendering to feelings                        
speaking louder than words-                        
discharges from friction                          
between opposing beliefs                        
                         
It begins with accepting defeat                        
evolves into managing, maintaining                        
then becomes handling, coping, dealing                        
going numb, tuning out, muddling through                          
                         
and if you aren't already drinking                        
you probably should consider it-                        
given you're already as good as wasted                        
                         
Every day inconspicuously hangs                          
over into the next as a bat                        
blind as yourself realizing that                        
after decades gone by                        
                         
because you just wanted                          
Today over with-                        
                         
you quit looking forward                        
to a better Tomorrows                        
                         
In so many words                        
                         
When you weave your own cocoon                        
you have to lie in it                        
                         
                         
                         
IX.                        
                       
When the fight is taken out of you                        
                       
resistance removed from the                        
equation = energy no longer                        
channeled into creation of                        
obstacles                        
                       
which affords All That Is                        
all the opportunity in the world                        
to get a word in edgewise                        
                       
Or words, I should say                        
                       
A whole lotta word play                        
                       
I was awakened                        
                       
by Ahavati, tugging me loose                        
from my home spun sleeping bag                        
                       
We had fun!                        
                       
Still do after three years!                        
                       
And while poetry                        
being artful communication                        
keeps us knitted tightly                        
into one other's lives                        
it is but one tie that binds us                        
                       
for I immediately knew                        
though here in free willed                        
challenges of her own design                        
she was sent to help me find                        
the EXIT from this house                        
that Jack built                        
                       
A-maze-ing — its construction                        
                       
Minus the Minotaur, of course                        
                       
Time was at hand                        
to stop being so bullheaded and                        
accept this gift of companionship—                        
                       
allow myself to be friended by an honest                        
woman worthy of the name Arachne                        
with her Ariadne's thread unspooled                        
                       
instead of falling for the same old lines                        
I had strung myself along with                        
                       
In so many words                        
                       
Not all Greek tragedies end in disaster                        
                       
                       
                       
X.                      
                       
Daylight at the end of the Labyrinth                        
continues to grow                      
                       
We're getting there slow, but sure                      
                       
thanks to her                      
                       
I am not as impatient as I use to be                      
largely due to the company I keep                      
                       
A tight leash on the frenzied                      
results-oriented-beast-within                      
is what it takes, for Change Wanted                      
can't manifest when focus is constant                      
on what you Want Changed                      
                       
And Life is only about survival                      
if you swallow the hooked notion                      
line, lure, and sinker that living                      
necessitates coping;                      
                       
we are only bound to repeat history                        
and past behavior when the roping                      
is reinforced                      
                       
Ahavati taught me by example                      
letting go was living in the moment                      
living in the moment was forgiveness                      
and forgiveness was letting go                      
                       
Three things being one and the same                      
                       
made possible by my love                      
                       
In so many words                      
                       
she was the road not taken                      
and I had miles to go in her shoes                      
before I could sleep peacefully                      
                       
                       
                     
XI.                      
                     
Supposedly                      
variety is the spice of life                      
                     
I would settle for                      
a seat by the window                      
                     
where the tablecloth                      
isn't repeatedly pulled out                      
from under flatware                      
as if a rug from beneath feet                      
by a magician in a parlor                      
trick akin to slight of hand                      
similar to metaphorically                      
giving you the finger                      
                     
Tada!                      
Car engine just locked up                      
                     
Walla!                      
Family members causing drama                      
                     
Presto!                      
Pets afflicted with deadly virus                      
                     
while blessed events                      
such as meeting your Soul Twin                      
seemingly take a half-lifetime                      
to manifest                      
                     
Hocus Pocus                      
It's been so hard to focus                      
on simply being grateful                      
for what I am blessed with                      
                     
or the sun rising                      
                     
In so many words                      
                     
Having over-salted my wounds                      
I'm bittersweetened                      
about assembling Life                      
without an instruction manual                      
                     
                   
                   
XII.                    
                   
She invited the Spiritual back into                    
the not-so mobile mobile home                    
of my Physical existence that prior                    
was oh-so-precarious on its foundation                    
                   
One can only feel blown off                    
the cinder blocks so many times                    
before taking storms personally                    
                   
I had gone from coping                    
to copping an attitude with                    
Powers That Be-fuddled Me                    
                   
until Ahavati helped                    
set the record straight                    
leveling out a man unsteady                    
on his feet and in dire need of                    
grounding                    
                   
She is a wonderful woman                    
whose Lasso of Truth wrangled                    
my out-of-control emotions                    
                   
and Honesty is one dominatrix                    
I am bound to submit to                    
                   
Episodes in which I feel                    
as if I'm not residing in the same                    
area code as the Universe are                    
farther and fewer;                    
                   
God and I at least share the same                    
trailer park these days . . .                    
                   
In so many words                    
                   
Feelings are separate from realities                    
                   
In fact, they can be flat out-liers                      
                   
                   
                   
XIII.                  
                   
That is not to say                  
being emotional isn't a reality                  
unto itself                  
                   
I have written numerous                  
poems about how                    
Ahavati makes me feel                  
                   
and the interpretations                  
seldom vary from the theme                  
                   
#IamLoved                  
                   
As for this grandstanding                  
EPICurean curio regarding how                    
Ahavati makes me                  
                   
—to be more precise—                  
into the better person                  
I am becoming                  
                   
though allowing me to be myself—                  
                   
she's a card carrying member                  
of the School of Hard Knocks                  
with an unfiltered, no-holds-barred                  
caring nature and attention to detail                  
rivaling the Universe                  
                   
because                  
                   
in so many words                  
                   
that is precisely who she is                  
                   
                   
                   
XIV.                  
                 
What better way is there                  
to (re)connect with Source                  
than through the channel                  
of an earthbound likeness?                  
                 
Now, don't get the notion                  
I just compared my Best-                  
ie Friend to enlightened                  
ones entering this world                  
the old fashioned, new test-                  
amen'ted way to speak                  
in tongues with turned cheek                  
at God's behest                  
                 
Seeding—                  
                 
spreading the Love                  
comes natural; to her                  
action is prose punctuating                  
His poetry, guiding readers                    
towards proper understanding                  
of any psalms, parables, and                  
epic Proverbs                  
                 
In so many words—                  
                 
Like, Jesus? Christ, no.                  
                 
She's only human                  
                 
or so He's sown                  
                 
                 
                 
XV.                
                 
As for where this poem delves next                
keeping up with the Indiana Joneses                
and its off-the-rails cart blanche text                
your guess is as good as mine[d]                
                 
but I'll take what silver linings I find                
knowing they are not all in vein                
                 
However it May or April be                
                 
what I want                  
and                  
what I end up with                
                 
has often been 1006 miles apart                
over the last five decades                
                 
or the first five decades                
                 
It's one of the reasons                
why I've grown so weary—                
having such difficulty seeing                  
a glass half full directly behind                
the glass half empty                
                 
as I am soon to be                  
a fifty year old man                
                 
Don't get the wrong idea—                
or fret on my be-half;                
this is not a mid life crisis                
                 
In so many words                
                 
I feel as young as ever;                
               
struggling is what's gotten old                
               
                
               
XVI.              
               
In my trek through cyberspace              
going on some twenty years now              
gravity of consequence still                
pulls me back towards Earth                
               
Internet connectivity              
with the outside world              
has provided freedom              
otherwise unavailable              
               
but has likewise been a prison              
isolating as it is liberating              
               
Limited human interactions                
of pixelated band[ied]wi[d]th                
avatars in poorly choreographed              
auto-corrected dances and              
conversed comedies of error              
where messages hurried                
through a handful of bars              
as fast as fingers can forum-ulate              
on scraps of paper spelling out              
laughter loudly while icon-ic smile              
masks facial expression              
               
has digitally rendered me distanced              
aside from socially inept              
               
I'm as empathic as a ham sandwich              
craving real time connection              
in the live stream scheme of things              
               
If not for Ahavati's arrival              
               
showing up when she did              
with inter-stellar companionship              
encouragement, understanding              
and continued patience regarding              
my relationship inexperience              
not to mention difficult behavior              
               
of which I am grateful as ever for              
               
I likely would have given up                
poetry altogether as well as drawing              
and taken a long spacewalk                
off a short pier              
               
In so many words              
               
Rather than disappear              
into a black hole                
knowing her is a horizon's event              
I look forward to              
               
               
             
XVII.              
             
For some time now,              
to the Universe I've sent-              
i-mentally [en]vision-boarded              
a home of wood and stone              
together complemented              
with square yards of yard              
suiting myself as if it was              
tailor made because              
in my entire adult[erated] life              
cradled towards crematorium              
I've lived with hardly a habitat              
to call my own—              
             
not a boy's treehouse              
or even a man's cave              
             
—such an estate of being              
I have never known              
             
Although ...              
on second thought—              
a grave?              
             
might be kinda nice              
for when I retire              
( before I expire )              
             
I could live out              
( of a coffin )              
my final years as an              
intentionally not so funny              
late night creature-feature              
host reciting punny poetry              
before Billy Joel rocks me off stage              
while the credits roll              
             
             
I guess you had to be there              
             
             
Oh, to be a kid again ...              
when I was less traumatized              
by failures that couldn't be              
blamed on anything or anyone              
for lack of knowing why              
shit happens              
the way              
it happens              
             
but I just HAD to go              
and grow up with faith              
knowing I would someday              
learn what God was all about              
now didn't I?              
             
And this is where you pelt me              
with a rubber chicken and say,              
             
"What's done is done              
and can't be undone."              
             
Well ...              
             
You may be wrong for all I know              
You may be right              
             
In so many words              
             
I seem to have lost the plot              
of this particular poem              
installment about a home              
I've dwelled upon              
but never in                      
             
             
             
XVIII.            
             
Now, a creature of habit            
I am, one            
seeking              
             
             
quiet            
             
             
conducive            
in establishment              
             
of not quite a strict[ly] form[ed]            
but flexible enough routine            
allowing for creativity              
             
Focus            
is difficult for me to manage            
when said space and time              
scenario is instead pe-occupied            
with distraction—loud people              
and their loud gatherings            
and their large gatherings            
of their many belongings            
collections, junk and just              
plain garbage            
             
I'd mastered organization            
creating room enough              
to walk about and breathe            
without getting tripped up              
too much in the clutter            
             
learned to leave the trash            
curbside and walk away            
             
but sometimes neediness              
or utterly needless drama            
spills out closet doors              
no matter how much            
you put my back into it            
and tried to contain            
the chaos            
             
In reflexibility, I've            
become origamic              
folding myself into            
other personalities            
taking up residence            
in this headspace            
if only for some              
             
             
momentary            
             
             
piece of mind;            
call me a compartmentalizer            
or maybe              
call me an apartmentalist            
             
In so many words            
             
I called myself a cab daily            
mentally checking out              
of an asylum            
             
           
           
XIX.            
           
We want            
           
what we've never had            
( at least to our knowledge            
regarding this lifetime )            
           
And falling in Love            
with what or whomever            
is desired before such is            
[strike]acquired[strike]            
experienced            
should come as no surprise            
if it is more than merely            
passing flight of fan[ta]cy            
           
Why do I feel so much Love            
these days? I've only arrived            
at conclusions drawn out for            
decades due to disenchantment            
with the creative process            
           
Being a self taught artist            
I've learned the hard way to            
let go of worry over hours of labor            
wasted if a mistake is made            
marring a page beyond recovery            
           
When I did?            
           
Left wrist rigid, relaxed            
in response; my drawings            
improved tremendously            
           
Though, it was in Life after so            
many balled up, crumpled            
attempts tossed away            
into the waste basket            
           
I learned my greatest mistake            
was repeatly drawing ( to me )            
what I wanted to escape            
           
by focusing on being a rat            
in a maze waiting for            
an open door            
           
rather than dreaming about            
where I wanted to be:            
           
the home custom designed            
in my mind            
           
In so many words            
           
the best laid floor plans of mice and architects            
often go askew            
           
           
           
XX.          
         
Twenty five years back          
I learned firsthand physical health          
is our natural state of operation          
         
Unless born otherwise for          
reasons personal; confidential          
karmic birth records sealed—          
         
we are organisms both          
biological and mechanical—          
feats of engineering always          
operating at optimal efficiency          
         
until we stress our bodies          
into compliance with thoughts          
of being disease riddled          
of being defective in assembly          
of being destined to disintegrate          
with age as if refrigerators filled          
with contents exceeding expiration          
dates or rusting 1977 Buick Le Sabre          
lawn ornamentation          
         
Rather than going into remissions          
we assume knowledge, taking          
for granted what are deemed          
necessary preventative measures          
keeping ailment from (re)manifestation          
         
entering into cellular prisons where          
ligamented soldiers stand rigid          
at attention in regi-mental routine—          
         
so much muscle-bound          
soldiering knitted tightly around          
bones and cartilage to the point          
ball joint range of motion is limited          
         
and you can not accomplish what          
previously came with ease          
         
It's a change of priorities—          
         
self preservation from pain          
superseding lively-hood          
doing more harm than good          
as you refrain and abstain          
from being yourself          
         
I had dislocated my shoulder on          
one-hundred and fifty occasions          
not because I was diseased          
defective or destined to disintegrate          
         
but because I made a error in judgement—          
         
discovered I wasn't quite invincible—          
         
lived in fear of its consequences          
over the course of seven years          
refusing to let go          
         
When I finally relinquished          
iron barred grasp of control          
over my own health, freedom          
I was born with and denied          
myself reigned once more          
         
In so many words          
         
I trusted to a degree out of          
three-hundred and sixty;          
         
another twenty-five years of          
feeling dislocated from the          
Universe brought me full circle          
         
         
         
XXI.        
         
On her own maritime mission        
she made a splash in mine        
         
( ( ( still feeling the ripple effect ) ) )        
         
Wrapped in star-buckled evening attire—        
* beauty * wisdom * baggage *        
to inspire ( me )        
         
if there ever was        
a storm so perfect        
         
Baring herself          
honestly in confessional poem;        
a guiding Lighthouse on horizon        
bringing my wayward vessel          
Home        
         
in confluence of karmic dues        
helping navigate uncharted seas        
where feeling of abandonment issues        
forth        
 from        
  harbored        
   resentments        
         
encouraging        
me to confront these—        
         
reclaim command of personal          
reality's Captainhood in moments        
precious        
         
And the decking from this          
shipwreck of dreams shall become        
the wood for an unfinished house        
awaiting us—        
         
its walls        
its beams        
its halls        
every door;        
         
there is plenty of more          
work ahead once ashore        
for this carpenter          
         
Ask, and it will be given to you        
seek, and you will find        
knock, and it will be opened to you        
always and forever        
welcome to        
ENTER        
         
In so many words        
         
she's the right Capt'n of my heart        
correcting where I'd gone wrong        
of[f] course, in world wide waters          
regarding Love        
         
         
         
====================        
Mathew 7:7 quoted in italics from the New American Standard Bible        
       
       
       
XXII.        
       
Idled at the crossroads, he's                                      
eyed the old, posted                                      
sign-age; scene: faded                                      
CHILDHOOD DREAMS                                      
LIFELONG GOALS                                      
FANTASIES                                      
painted on arrows                                      
still tacked up                                      
but where these                                      
lead ...         
       
It's obvious        
       
we've been here before        
       
on many occasions        
only to backpeddle away           
down the path of        
IMPATIENCE        
leading to        
FRUSTRATION        
trailing off into        
DESPAIR        
       
Will it be different this time?        
       
Will it be different?        
       
Will it?        
       
Will it        
       
I believe it will        
       
I do        
       
To this day        
I believe it still        
       
I        
       
Willed        
I willed        
I build it        
with my bare hands        
       
upon the rock        
strong as can be        
       
no longer in said manner        
of foolish men upon the sands        
       
I am finally free        
I am finally free        
I am finally me        
Yeaaaaaah        
       
Free ranged!        
       
Vibration changed        
No longer one so lost        
signaling SO eStranged        
       
from all I can be        
from all I can be        
from All That Is        
Yeaaaaaah        
       
Living on par[able]        
with my wildest dreams        
Firstly        
comes level-headed foundation        
Secondly        
sturdy as bones — the beams        
Thirdly        
frame around a heart[th]        
Up go the walls        
Fourthly        
around a person that will[ed]        
never be the same        
when comes the wind        
when comes the rain        
when comes the flood        
washing away old houses of yesterday        
leaving nothing behind but        
mud        
       
And with a        
THUD THUD THUD        
in place of the faded signs        
torn down        
he hammers on a new        
arrow freshly painted        
declaring        
in so many words        
       
UNDER CONSTRUCTION        
       
       
       
XXIII.      
       
in my Father’s house are many mansions;      
if it were not so, I would have told you.      
I go to prepare a place for you.      
       
Appreciation = Gratitude      
being my        
Longitude / Lattitude      
       
X and Y and Z co-n'sidings      
virtual-ly putting me in mood      
       
And the Foundation      
I choose to construct upon        
the rock?      
       
HEALTH      
       
that which is unobtainable with      
 wealth      
  strategy      
   stealth      
       
or rANDom dance floor      
DNA whirlygigging goings on-      
there's no being      
in the right place      
at a right time      
having the right stuff;      
       
simply is itself      
in itself, is enough      
a state of grace        
       
an empty page awaiting words      
matters concentrated in space      
       
freestylings despite poemed      
or prosed appearances on the face      
       
of things with or without form      
with or without rhyme      
       
capable of telling any story      
by virtue of nonexistant        
writer's block      
       
until you insist otherwise      
       
finding yourself        
in a situation or place      
you don't wish to live      
the result cumulative      
of repeatedly impressing      
upon subatomic clay around      
This is my reality      
Same as it ever was      
Same as it ever was      
Same as it ever was      
and then you are found      
wallowing in mortar, mired      
cementing everything inspired      
other than what you actually      
desired      
And you may tell yourself      
This is not my beautiful house!      
       
In so many words      
Imagination and Love is the only text      
that can unlock the front door of        
what is coming next      
in so many words      
       
in so many words      
       
in so many words      
       
in so many words      
       
       
       
       
===============================      
Stanza 1 quotes John 14:2 of the King James Bible      
Italicized snippets from "Once In A Lifetime" by the Talking Heads      
       
     
       
XXIV.      
     
Every poem has to start somehow      
     
so let's begin this one with the bare      
bones where blood is produced      
     
which I never knew until recently      
defibrillating as it may seem—      
     
I am hardly a scholarly person      
self taught in a variety of subjects        
     
And it makes complete sense      
given a skeleton is what supports      
the temple that is your body      
     
same as framing of any house      
     
We, poets among us especially      
make such a huge production      
about the heart, carrying on      
endlessly to the point      
there will likely never be      
another original thought      
assembled referencing      
the organ      
     
yet it is blood where Love      
for what or whom truly      
is present and conveyed      
     
through support we circulate      
     
and receive in more ways      
than we'll ever know in this      
lifetime, the writing of which      
will never end despite      
being published      
or      
rejection letters received      
     
until one is satisfied enough      
and moves on      
     
I'm not going anywhere      
     
beam-ing with anticipation      
looking forward to sun-dusted      
daylight through this framework      
she perpetually gives me strength      
courage, and determination to      
erect with all the muster of an      
old school, Amish barn-raising      
     
drafting table of my mind      
blue with the white printing      
of her Universe House      
inspiring as ever      
     
Every poem has to start somehow      
     
Mine began with wandering      
forty years in a desert searching for      
a place I felt at Home within      
     
In so many words      
     
I'm finally where I want and need to be      
due to renewed Lifeblood support      
from the Bestest Friend I could      
have ever been blessed with      
     
     
     
XXV.    
     
Though busy with construction    
I suppose it wouldn't hurt to break—    
     
say what's been occupying my mind    
lately - a passage from the Bible      
     
Those who live in glass houses      
should not throw stones    
     
Don't hold me to that;    
I've never been religious    
     
nor scholarly, but I digress      
     
I do subscribe to the notion    
Honesty is the best policy    
striving for transparency    
knowing that ultimately    
depending on who is [s]trolling    
through the neighborhood    
there may still be questions    
regarding what I am really about    
perceptions I'm this or that    
rocks in hand at the ready to    
take me out-    
     
none of which concerns me;    
I'm neither image      
or self conscious, so    
take me at face value    
take me to task    
take your best shot    
or      
take a hike;    
go play in the street      
     
My time is better spent      
shoring up this interior      
with the fine balancing act    
of having as few partitions    
as possible for full disclosure    
yet plenty of wall space for      
framing of what brings me joy    
and of course    
all that aforementioned    
glass    
     
Eyes are the windows to the soul    
     
Quite the idiom savant today, aren't I?    
     
These windows will be eyes into mine    
but don't be surprised if you find    
them shut with the shades drawn      
     
I only allow genuine spirits      
who are likewise open books    
access accross my threshhold    
the doors of which are unlocked    
to only one individual who is    
welcome to enter without knocking    
and making herself at home    
     
You might know her name by now    
     
As for everyone else    
unless extended an invitation    
I prefer the peace and quiet    
of a long awaited solitude    
so in the meantime    
take me on faith      
as if I was a born-again goodly    
Christian in-tent during his revival    
     
in so many words    
     
KEEP OFF THE LAWN    
   
   
   
XXVI.    
   
I have to be vigilant with self    
reminders that while Change is    
a journey from Point A to Point B    
   
it can be a slow transformation    
to the Point that those afflicted    
with impatience can't See    
   
any noticeable differences    
moment to moment when daily    
progress is that of a single brick    
added here to the chimney or    
shingle there upon roof top    
   
or differences unnoticeable    
occurring below surfaces in    
manner of white blood cell offensive    
soldiering en route towards infection    
reclaiming lost hills of Health    
conquered under seige of faltering    
belief    
   
I began this challenge[d]    
years ago after meeting Ahavati—    
she being an integral component    
of my restructuring — the missing rib    
bone in a framework providing balance    
necessary    
   
that I thoroughly lacked    
often cause for bringing construction    
grinding to halt out of frustration—    
hands thrown up in the air;    
as many excuses muttered    
as I could muster    
   
A house is never really finished    
being built once started—    
same as a poem    
   
but without the roof    
much like that which is    
erected upon the sand    
   
it becomes a-wash-out    
in thunders of the next    
storm rolling through    
   
Reality is what you make it    
with or without justifications    
   
without or with guidance    
   
and beloved ones    
   
In so many words    
   
I've made it    
this far with the beam    
she is holding me up    
   
   
   
XXVII.  
   
Today, I put the hammer down  
and left working on my new house  
in the dust for a while  
   
It's one of those days when everything  
is sliding sideways, spinning out of control  
and drinking early seems a sensible  
remedy  
   
Sometimes, I will—  
anything to slam the brakes on    
retreading the past now  
rear view mirrored  
   
Alcohol ( in moderation )  
either helps me stay focused  
between lines, kept to script  
   
or puts me to sleep at the wheel—  
preventing the grinding of my gears    
over yesteryear's roadblocks  
   
and that's always good thing  
   
because I know addiction;  
   
once you cruise down unpleasant    
avenues — it's difficult to find reverse  
   
Having burned my fair sharecropper's  
worth of dollar bills in puffed Winston,    
Marlboro and home-rolled Dresden  
tobacco from age sixteen to forty  
   
it took me at least a year  
the old fashioned route  
to quit not quitting  
   
The more time lapsed between  
cigarettes — the easier it got  
until I completely forgot  
I was a smoker  
   
And I have one every now    
and then, but for the most part?    
   
Repulsive  
   
no different than the mouthful    
of beer I spit out at a picnic  
when I was five years old  
   
or its odor lingering in aluminum  
cans ditched along the roadside  
collecting rain and beetles  
   
How wretched!  
   
And that's what stubborn realities
you want to leave behind are like—
awful poems penning you
( as much as you pen them )
into cells with sentences for life
leaving a bad taste in your mouth
while you continue reciting them
because it seems justified
 
If you are to become hooked on
anything, revisiting it daily
please let it be a wonderful
thought
 
In so many words
 
pardon me
for choosing to think
I'm in a happier place
 
 
 
XXVIII.
 
It's very easy to lose your way
traveling in what you think
is the right direction
 
Assumption often is  
the road not taken
you didn't know existed
because you were to busy  
making a [byp]ass of yourself
 
And just imagining being
at Point B instantly puts you
exactly where you want to be—
at the heart of the matter
 
Sounding too much like  
New Age chatter?
 
Moving on then ...
 
I've never been one to sketch
purely from imagination  
 
Through a desire to create  
pencil drawings better resembling
photographs, I developed a system
that kept my sight fixated on the
chosen image I intended to draw
 
as opposed to relying on generic
notions you would find in
HOW TO manuals
 
because I've lacked focus  
throughout my entire life  
one way or another
 
and drawing what you see
with your eyes requires
discipline
 
Or maybe I have that backwards
 
lacked discipline ...
... requires focus
 
Regardless, when drawing  
assuming is a recipe for
a lot of erasing
 
or Do-Overs
 
but at this Point A of my life
I'll gladly start from scratch
and do it right this time
 
by being myself for a change
 
which is how I ended up meeting
Ahavati, who accepts me as I am
same as I accept her as she is
 
In so many words
 
sometimes you need to get lost
in order to find your way around
 
 
 
It also helps to find a kind soul
who can give you direction



29/30

[ NaPo 2020 ] In So Many Words

XXIX.

When utter clutter
and noise I've struggled with
becomes unbearable, I take shelter
from the psychological stormfront
in my metaphorical
never-to-be-finished
lodging;

muchly a work in progress
as I am

There will be days
when head aches for relief
as will to continue construction
is overly whelmed with
emotional override to plant
the White Flag of Surrender
in some figmented phantom's
ass, snap the pole off
and parade about waving it
in a tantrum of frustration

but I know better now—

the grip of old beliefs
have loosened; their invalidity
apparent with increased
infrequency

Instead, I'm at the ready
copper ground rod equipped
charging the maelstrom
from atop Mount Olympus
with thighs thundering;
a Zeus — lightning javelin in hand
hauled back to strike down
gloomy doomy skies

with spaciously roomy
sunny pleasant musings
of All That Is in this Universe
that brings me joy—

most notably her smiling
delighted as Calliope reading
this April kaleidoscope offering

in so many words ...



XXX.

Sadly, we've reached April's end

with hardly a brand new adventure
begun in this rather grand
testamonial to a special person
unlike any I've ever known
about how I felt alone
to being on the mend
with my origin
Source;

I've been at this for three years
since we met

She says it speaks more
about me than her;
I concur

and yet

when God shuts a door
He opens a window;

when a window is shut
He swings open a door

I deadbolted every entrance
nailed the windows to sill
and hid on the floor

so He opened a looking glass
by which I got to know
myself and the Universe
through a woman whom I regard
as the Bestest Friend forEver
I could have gained in the process
of which I hope, this text
reflects kindly of

And as I do my damnedest
to be myself moreso these days
living in moment-Us ways
while looking forward
to an exciting, wondrous
future different from what
I'm acccustomed to being
written

In so many words

I Love her

and THAT will never change





to be continued