Code Black Drone

The drone in this video was a birthday present from a good friend. The video is from the first time I took it out to learn how to fly it. (If you can't see it here, its on my YouTube channel.) I recently wrote the following poem about the experience. Nothing special, and yes, I took some artistic license with the sand dune imagery. Imagine a golf course. 

rising steadily
slightly cockeyed
the breeze makes it hard to see
is it the wind or the pilot
guiding that funky course
straight for the sand dune pile

plummeting naturally
in the way of gravity
no zigzag jerks to show control
or lack thereof more readily
the splash of sand rejoicing
set free in the open air

guiltily abandoned there
shocked and dazed it looks
despite the cold unthinking plastic life
metaphors wrapped in metaphors
some things simply are
a robot in the sand

The Walls are Permeable

The walls are permeable

people, thoughts, ideas

who has walked this floor 

who will sit in this room

listening to the sound of the rain

the constant sound of the highway

just noise, ever moving

just white noise, indistinguishable

yet, in every car sits a human being

waiting, able to be touched

I reach out with the finger of my mind

where are you going, why?

I sit here, preparing for bed, alone

quiet, and yet, you, where do you go?

My room, soft and white

indistinguishably invaded by millions.

I Don't Understand Why

For some reason, I wanted to write a poem today about the things that I, and people I know, don't understand. As Sam, in Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom, says, "Poems don't always have to rhyme, you know. They're just supposed to be creative." I guess this falls under the heading of 'being creative.'

I Don't Understand Why

people don't trust that my food is good
men tell me they love me when they break up with me
people automatically think my job is hard
the worst planning is always around ticket lines
change is hard
people are so afraid of each other

burger buns come in packs of twelve, but burgers eight
or is that hotdogs, never the same amount of packages
people think a busy life is a good life
people aren't more considerate of others
people don't live and let live
or people cannot seem to love each other, even while wanting it
despite the confusing greed

life isn't easier
people are so reluctant to be vulnerable
or to expand their communities
and people cannot be happy with what they have
people spend so much time, energy, and money on weddings and so little on marriage
consciousness emerged

people love me or they don't
people hang on to possessions, or do possessions hang on to us
quality and quantity never seem to match especially in people's lives
people keep wanting more and more
people do want they don't want and not what they do want
people hide their emotions

up in the air they all flutter
the questions and answers
never quite coming together
and swoosh... the autumn wind
blows, blows, blows them all away
nothing can hold back the will to live

I Know You're Right Here: A Reply to Wish You Were Here

Wish You Were Here
       by Pink Floyd

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell,
Blue sky's from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
And how we found
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.


For some reason, as I was listening to this song on the radio the other day, I thought it needed a reply.

No, I cannot tell
heaven from hell
without you by my side
everything's the same
the colors are gone
and its always pouring rain
there's nothing left to tell

how can I compare
why I chose this enveloping cage
instead of the world I breathe
without you wandering by
gone in the ashes of the morning
gone in the cool sea breeze
yet the emptiness clangs
and the dreams fall with the rain

oh how I wish, how I wish you were here
they say you always go home again
but its never, never the same
the ghosts are all new
and the leaks change room
despite all that and the wall
as I walk along the broken way
I know you're right here

Getting Dressed

You know those children's books
the ones that stick in your head your entire life
the ones that always get you no matter how many times you read it
I have many, silly as they are, they give meaning
meaning and order and continuity to our lives
as God would intend for our creativity to do
opening our hearts and minds to the wonder of this broken world
sometimes its the joy that shows what beauty broken is.

I get dressed in simple fashion, the same way as every human does
one piece at a time despite the importance of the clothes or occasion
and yet the special times I hear and see
the philharmonic, getting dressed in all black
with one man reading in the tub with the cat watching by
as my collar wraps around my neck
connecting me to people far and wide doing
the simple things that draw together
all in black for the great occasion
the shirt is straightened with a smile
the music floats and rises