Tag Archives: living

Burn That Bridge

Dwelling on the future
never seemed to make much sense:
splitting our infinitives
just wastes the present tense.
Why worry on what might be
and dwell on hopes and dreams,
when what counts of past and future
is what comes in between?

Yeah, maybe we’ll be famous;
Maybe we’ll strike it rich;
Maybe the car will leave the road
and leave us in the ditch;
Maybe we’ll stay together,
maybe we’ll drift away;
you can’t predict the future;
all you have is here, today.

We’re on this road together
until we both call it quits;
whatever happens further on,
let’s burn that bridge when we get to it.

Dwelling on what might be
never gets us anywhere;
imagining some great misfortune
waiting for us there
distracts us from the present,
robs us of our savoir faire.
We have each other right now;
let tomorrow meet us there.

Yeah, maybe we’ll be homeless;
Maybe we’ll go back to school;
Maybe the weak will tame the strong,
and wise men act like fools.
Maybe we’ll live forever,
maybe we’ll fade away;
you can’t predict the future;
all you have is here, today.

We’re on this road together
until we both call it quits;
you never know what’s coming
don’t burn that bridge ’til we get to it.

29 DEC 2006

One of my pet sayings is “Let’s not stress over that right now; we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.” It’s very much akin, in my mind, to the Sufi saying, “Never name the well from which you will not drink.” In other words, don’t say you’re never gonna have a chicken sandwich while you’re still waiting for the hen to lay eggs. Until the time is right, until there is that perfectly auspicious alignment of the planets that triggers the cataclysmic cosmic chain reaction that results in the events that form your tomorrow, you really have no idea what it’s gonna look like. Sure, you have plans and visions and hopes and dreams, but until the proof becomes pudding you don’t really know what it is — and you certainly don’t know the flavor until you take that first bite. Wow. A lot of mixed metaphors here. But you get idea. Live for today.

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The First Day

If this is the first day of what life remains,
who cares if there’s sunshine or thunder and rain?
Both have their own virtues, each pleasure and pain;
though different, a good deal the same.

If this is the first day of what there is left,
what good is my grieving, or acting bereft
because things so far haven’t all gone my way?
What matters is always today.

Yesterday’s always a moment behind,
tomorrow a moment too soon;
hold on too tightly, and you’ll only find
January turns into June.
Each brand new morning is unto itself,
it needs not a calendar name.
Waste just one moment, and your life is past
with no one but yourself to blame.

If this is the worst day to happen so far,
what good is me blaming some unlucky stars
or looking for answers where none need be found
beyond my two feet on the ground?

If this is the best day that will ever be,
what good is it to keep it locked up for me
when part of the reason it turned out that way
is saving tomorrow for after today?

Yesterday’s always a moment behind,
tomorrow a moment too soon;
hold on too tightly, and you’ll only find
January turns into June.
Each brand new morning is unto itself,
it needs not a calendar name.
Waste just one moment, and your life is past
with no one but yourself to blame.

If this is the first day, and what’s come before
is just one more wave on an infinite shore,
which part of creation should I try to blame?
The end and beginning are one and the same.

30 NOV 2006

for James Taylor

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Inappropriate Happiness

Maybe sanity’s a side-effect of living;
some folks get it, while some others never do.
It’s just a minor irritation that can do no lasting harm;
you can shake it like a slight touch of the flu.

Besides, in a world that’s gone a little crazy,
it’s not mark of great success to learn to fit;
and to have it all together isn’t much of an achievement
when all you’re taught from birth is how to live with it.

Being well adjusted isn’t everything, you know
Keep your medications up there on the shelf
The price of high is sometimes you must be a little low
Who cares what is inappropriate for anybody else?
Make your happiness by just being yourself.

Maybe happiness is never inappropriate,
It just breaks apart the stretches in between
When reality goes on and on and never seems to quit
its insistence that we should know what it means.

Besides, in a world that’s gone a little crazy
It’s a marvel we have happiness at all
We all act so damned surprised when it sneaks up in disguise
like a parachute that interrupts free fall

Being well adjusted isn’t everything, you know
Keep your medications up there on the shelf
The price of high is sometimes you must be a little low
Who cares what is inappropriate for anybody else?
Make your happiness by just being yourself.

31 OCT 2006

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Time the Devourer

Tradition, will your ancient prison walls,
behind which all are born and most will die,
hold firm against time’s fervent battle cry
that need not force its soldiers in your halls

but deep down in your dungeons simply waits
while you parade its likeness on a throne,
pretending what was muscle is not bone
piled high against your cemetary gates?

For how long can this mad charade go on
before your weak nostalgia does not sate
nor satisfy the hunger of your state?
The flexing of its jaws is no mere yawn,

but warm up for the table. It will dine,
devouring ours and theirs, both mine and thine.

05 SEP 2006

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Abandon This Garbage: alcaics

Oh wisdom seeking mendicant travelers,
your baggage and burdens are troubling handicaps;
they will not help you on your journey.
Abandon this garbage by the roadside.

If you would find some unforeseen adventure,
let drop your jaded world-weary illusions;
you have no need of those old crutches.
Use your own power to find the pathway.

Look inward, pilgrim: investigate carefully
what you have right now. Nothing is infinite
that has an ending, a start or finish;
if you see its edges, it’s not the source.

No dusty volume filling up shelving space
can provide answers; nor can just believing
in teachers, prophets, soldiers or saints.
The source of energy does not costume.

It is not waiting, patiently camouflaged
while you are wasting excuses and lifetimes.
It does its business, whether you are
singing in harmony or out of tune.

11 AUG 2006

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If all my days were whiled

If all my days were whiled in hours of leisure,
their content by mere whim alone fulfilled,
perhaps I would not sense so keen a pleasure
as I do when a moment seems to still

into a whisper the world’s rush and roar,
and stretch a second’s span beyond its measure.
It’s likely I would want of time much more,
if all of it were made of these small treasures.

Would I want such a horde of precious minutes?
How would they wear if stored up in some vault?
It seems to me their worth would soon diminish
and leave behind regret, sorrow and fault.

Much better finding them just now and then;
like manna you have only now to spend.

12 MAY 2006

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Test

This is a test.
I thought it best
to speak privately.
While the rest
of humankind
seethes at the breast
of Chaos,
suckling hot blood
from its chest,
let our shared words
somehow attest
to what is possible!
Let zest
for living fill us,
let us not leave
unexpressed
those great desires
that once impressed
us to make changes
to this world!
Let this bond be
our flag unfurled!

10 MAY 2006

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