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Tag Archives: Notes Found On The Refrigerator

The silver spoon

The silver spoon

Spilling gibberish, drool, and cream

In this morning’s Lobster Bisque

Screamed at him for not

Eating Cheerios in 1% milk

With silverware, or even

A plastic spoon.

(None would have to be polished

Rubbed by servants

And served, to feed

 Your fat reflecting face).

“We are both, growing worthless

In history” fading as it dripped

and slurped from

Puckering lips.

 
11 Comments

Posted by on April 4, 2017 in Existential, Poetry, Politics, thoughts

 

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Note Found On The Refrigerator 3/19/2017

Don’t Shout!

            Shhhhhhhsh, your mind—

            For as long as it takes—

            Understanding the needs, we relieve

            Within our presence.

            Our life’s last ground is guided

By our first chance.

            You know we hold each other

            Responsible for our love.

           

 
14 Comments

Posted by on March 19, 2017 in Love, Sittting still, thoughts, Zen

 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator February 2017

The Internal Seed

I never did pretend very well.

Truth was perception—

Dismissing objective proof,

For the answer to the basic question

 “How does popcorn pop”?

Mistakes, miss-judgments, funneled into the mind

Of tornadoes swirling heart-popping roofs off conjecture.

How long can one pretend to believe you can be received?

 Gently through the bluster of ignorance?

And, yes, I am not the person I am.

I am the one inside of you

That never does pretend, very well.

“Wake up!” Said, the knife and fork to the spoon.

  *****

I have lost many memories that I often find in my heart.

   *****

Go home and simply be honest

To your lover and rekindle

The one action you forgot.

 
7 Comments

Posted by on February 12, 2017 in Experimental, ignorance, Love, Spiritual, Zen

 

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You Win Some And Lose Some. But, You Get Dressed For Them All

Stop the bus 2016

We played it well,

            Stiff, bended, upright, and smooth,

We took our best shot

            Between the legs of destiny

And missed it by an inch;

            So sure, defending it was a penalty call.

Ha! Sometimes we can miss it by a mile;

But, personally, hecklers are customers.

So, we leave the game

Playing it well

With a winning smile.

Start the bus

We have another game

In 2017.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on January 1, 2017 in Companionship, Existential, Love, Prose Poetry, Zen

 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator: Autumn 2016

Don’t run away, unless you know where you are going.

Everyone should have an acceptance, and, an exit plan.

   *****

Bottom Of The Glass: 

…as long as I could see the bottom of the glass,

I would pour myself another drink;

Seeing my reflection

At the bottom of the glass

Sometimes dithered me though.

So, at some point,

I would leave the glass half-full.

*****

Love’s Encouragement:

(Inhale)

It is time we move on

from where we met

 to where we were suppose

 (exhale)

to  meet.

(Breath)

Hold my hand, we’ll search our memory,

and find our way.

(Inhale)

It is time we move on

from where we met

 to where we were suppose

 (exhale)

to  meet.

*****

Enlightenment’s Rock And Roll:

Often,

Silence is a noise we try to avoid.

Whether in conversation, in loneliness,

Or worst, when we are bored.

Yet,

When it is present, it opens the windows

With no mind. To a space quietly making music

To no one, in no place, for nothing.

So, before accepting it,

We kiss our mind gently good-bye;

And escape through the window, with our soul,

To join the dance, to the music of enlightenment’s

Rock and Roll.

 

 
20 Comments

Posted by on December 3, 2016 in Experimental, Love, Prose Poetry, Spiritual, Zen

 

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Stoke The Flames

  I received a phone call today. On my 70th. birthday from my best friend:

Who helped, me as an adult, grow up— Wishing me, a continued good life, without her.

  I wished her the same, encouraging her— to stoke the flames.

Tides when riding surf

In all seasons rise and surge

By the light of moon

 
22 Comments

Posted by on November 28, 2016 in Haibun, Haiku, Love, Zen

 

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The Meal

The meal, whether earned or grown,  

Prepared for yourself or by another,

Is one of the greatest gifts of all.

 

Intention that turns labor into delight,

 Into anticipation, preparation,

Hurry, and timing for moments to memory.

 

Set on clean plates, in wonderful presentation

Framed with silverware and folded napkins.

 

Once eaten, will disappear into joy and satisfaction,

As all the greatest gifts, do happen.

rev:3

 
15 Comments

Posted by on November 20, 2016 in Friendship, Love, Poetry, Zen

 

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