Futurelawyer

#PoetryFriday - Old Man.

Pain everywhere. Joints, back etc. I need a scooter to go long distances. I see death around the corner. I try to make it my friend. But, grabbing all the life I can out of every day left seems the right thing to do. We all have things happen in our lives that are sad. Some of us lose spouses. Some of us alienate others out of a fear of seeming weak. No one of us is a perfect human. However, we control how we live our lives. When you reach the end, don't end up alone in a chair. Don't be this guy.

He slowly pattered to the chair,

cloth rubbed raw and chafing,

slippers worn and in their place,

pipe and ashtray next to the lighter

his wife had given him on Memorial Day.

His body bent forward

and his gaze fell on the carpet,

threadbare from walking and pacing

during illness and crisis.

He was alone now,

Slowly dying

and living slowly.

He watched the flickering television

looking for meaning,

and not looking at all.

Did he remember the President

and the year?

Or did he remember a kiss in 1947...

or was it ‘48?

He felt a tightening in his chest

and knew his end was coming.

He closed his eyes

and remembered the past,

thought about the future,

and prayed to whatever God

was up there.

When he died,

They removed the body,

boxed his belongings,

threw them in the trash,

emptied his bank accounts,

and went on living.

#PoetryFriday - The Graduates, or, Every Commencement Address Ever Given.

“I am the poet laureate of my soul”,
he said,
pompously,
at the promontory of wood,
set in front of the graduates,
whose caps askew,
looked like a chess board
comprised of just the black pieces,
glinting in the sunlight
of an afternoon.
on a campus filled
with graduates
aching to go wild
in an orgy of debasement,
fueled by alcohol
and angst.
“You are the poets of your future lives”,
he droned on,
choking on words
of false hope for the future.
Everyone knew that their lives
would be filled with hope
and desire
and tragedy
and illness
and failure
and success,
spread liberally over bodies
that spent their time
shaken, not stirred,
in an orgy of debasement,
fueled by alcohol
and angst.
“You are the hope of our university
and our planet,
and the architects of your destiny”,
and on and on and on and on,
until that destiny
is stained by actions,
spent in an orgy of debasement,
fueled by alcohol
and angst.
“I leave you with the single message
that your lives
are now yours,
and we are no longer responsible
for you.
Go out into the world,
and make us proud."

#PoetryFriday - Tarot.

He studied her

as she placed the cards

upon the table.

It felt like a polygraph exam.

Did she hear his beating heart?

Could she sense his prayer

for a future of loving her?

Could she read in the cards

the desire in his body,

to place his hands upon her gentle curves,

and the anticipation in his voice?

Or, was it all a game?

She read the cards

aloud.

He already knew that he was bound to the past,

a past that carried only broken love

and broken promises.

He was, however,

a willing participant in her seduction.

He would go where she led him.

He was a budding plant,

growing towards a powerful sun,

reaching for the sky,

a boy-man,

learning to love.

The cards told him

that he had much work to do.

When The Doorbell Rings.

I wonder what you will look like,

when you come for me?

Will you ring a bell

to announce yourself?

Will you wear a black robe

and carry a weapon?

Or, will you stealthily

come in the night,

while I am sleeping?

I wonder if you will

have a recognizable face;

or, will you wear a mask

to hide your identity?

I know that you will come.

I know that you are coming

for me.

Will I have time

to bargain with you?

Will I be granted

the grace of a warning?

What if I still have things to do?

What if there are others

who need me?

Do you have feelings

for those you visit?

Do you bring a gift

along with your message?

I wonder whether

you will allow me

the benefit of waiting

until I have done what

I need to do?

Perhaps I will hide from you,

in a place where you do not go.

Perhaps I can avoid

your visit

for a little while.

I promise that I will not

be a problem.

I promise that I will

tell others to acknowledge you,

and I promise that I will

answer the door

when the doorbell rings.

#PoetryFriday - Seminar.

In my journey to a loving relationship, I learned a few lessons. Several times, I patiently waited for someone to realize that I was a good choice for a lifetime of loving. But, I discovered, after many failures, that a true love is usually mutual right away. Pursuing someone who makes you wait is most often a mistake. In rare cases, I suppose that the right one might be distant, out of fear; but, the life and time wasted waiting for someone who doesn't reciprocate quickly is often not a good idea. If someone tells you they are unsure, believe them. Allow love to happen. 

I waited outside the empty lecture hall,
for my turn at bat.
I thought about her.
Her face was in every seat.
I felt the loneliness
in the room.
and wondered about the rest of my life.
I stood at a crossroads,
barred by a locked gate.
She held the key.
Would the road to her love
open for me?
Or, would I, once again,
walk alone,
down a road with no end,
and no destination
worthy of a visit.
Would I ever find another love,
after another mile,
and another day?
Would I be so far down the road,
that when she realized I was gone,
she couldn’t find me?
Would I wait for her
to see the light?
Or, would I go inside the lecture hall,
and speak my truth
to strangers?

Most Of Us Live Lives Of Quiet Delusion.

Go Outside And Look At A Sunrise.

In this poem, I was thinking about the narrow focus lives we lead, filled with non-essentials and pretend happiness. I shot this image at sunrise nine years ago today, standing on a path at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. The real world is so much bigger than we are. Take a moment and marvel at it. That is living. Everyone says they will stop and smell the roses. But, we don't, do we? 

 

Their money they buried.

Their daughters they married.

Their valuables they carried,

everywhere they went.

They locked their doors.

They seldom took risks.

They ate healthy food.

They spent hours on exercise machines.

They lived like they wouldn’t die,

and refused to think about death.

They worked until they slept,

and slept for half the day.

They didn’t learn the lessons of history.

They spent their time

trying to control their environment.

They never wanted to risk rejection,

so they never loved.

They didn’t want to disappoint the neighbors,

so they bought everything they saw.

They never saw a sunrise,

and spent their sunsets watching TV.

They were surprised when life ended,

and wondered where the time went.

They thought they would live forever;

but, the money and valuables and

swimming pools and fancy houses

lived longer than they did.

Those things live forever.

We don’t.

What did you say you were doing today?

Monster In The House.

When we are kids, monsters and scary things live under the bed. As we grow older, they tend to congregate elsewhere. When we are old, and have experienced the tragedies and stresses of life, they are everywhere. 

He knew there was a monster in the house.

It was just around the corner in the hallway.

It always disappeared,

as he made the turn,

and headed towards the other rooms in the house.

He crept silently down the stairs,

certain that he would find it sleeping

on the living room floor.

But, no matter how quietly he moved,

it was never there when he arrived.

He began to rise,

earlier and earlier,

and looked inside the drawers

and the closets.

He remembered the monster in the closet

after she died,

but he killed that one,

one article of clothing at a time.

Once, he thought he had it trapped

inside the laundry room;

but, when he turned on the light switch,

he only heard the scurrying

of little feet.

They belonged to an ancient species of insect

that had survived for millennia,

and fed on crumbs

and leftovers.

After a long while,

he realized that his anxiety

must be overblown.

There weren't really monsters.

They were figments of his imagination.

He let his guard down.

He took a risk 

that a companion 

would scare the monster away.

When she brought him a cup of coffee,

and kissed his cheek,

and held his hand,

he knew that the monster

wouldn't be there anymore.

Chasing Monsters Away

Whose turn is it

to chase the monsters away?

He asked,

innocently,

secretly frightened of the answer.

"I have my own monsters.

I can deal with them myself,"

she said,

haughtily.

"You must deal with your own.

I am independent.

I need no one.

I don’t want someone who needs me.

Why are your monsters my responsibility?

What is in it for me?

How is it to my benefit,

to chase away your monsters?"

He politely turned away,

and resolved never to ask again.

He knew that he must keep looking.

Somewhere, there must be another

who would share the pain.

After a while,

he realized that he needed to find that someone

to share monster duty with him.

He wanted someone who would,

occasionally,

chase his monsters away.

#PoetryFriday - Hello And Goodbye.

I must say goodbye now.
While I love you,
I must let you go.
I can’t hold you anymore.
I can’t speak to you.
I can’t stand beside you in a crowd.
I am the only one who can see you.
But, I am not the only one who remembers you.
I love another now.
I can hold her.
I can speak to her.
I can stand beside her in a crowd.
Everyone can see her;
but, I am the only one who really knows her.
I am lost between goodbye and hello.
I am in an ether world,
populated by fantasies
and desires.
I can love both of you;
but, only because you exist in different places
in my heart.
You share my important places,
and you share my deepest feelings.
I don’t have a choice,
but to love and to say goodbye.
I will say hello again,
someday.
When someday comes,
I will say goodbye.

Plant A Rose Bush.

They rushed around,

led separate lives,

ran red lights,

faced daily stress,

nursed sick children, and

listened to irrational people

with problems of their own.

They lost sight of the goal.

They forgot to spend time together.

Too soon, it was over.

He remembered the flowers he gave her

for Valentine’s Day.

They died in the vase.

They were pretty for a while.

Then, like people,

they withered and died.

He resolved that,

next time,

he would plant a rose bush,

in the yard.

It would grow in the soil, and,

over time,

it would create blooms

that lasted forever.

They would plant it together,

as a symbol of undying love.

It would be their legacy,

to those who came behind.

Next time, he would get it right.