Wednesday, September 19, 2012

~Strawberry Freckle~ (updated: 9/30/12)

You and I are masters at getting under our skin,
You have nuggets and i have boulders of memories
we've lived.

We've argued and battled and never gave in,
we could have gave just a little and let the peace in,
We'd have laughed and remembered all the places we'd been,
and would have forgotten all the rips and the tears on our skin.

An onion that's bitter, with layers to shed,
has a center that's brilliant and shinning within.
The ego will peal away, bit by bit,
and each coming day, would get better with this.

An abstract, long journey to get where we're at,
from each home we'd run and never look back.
Your freckled face berry, and one time you said,
with each brand new freckle, one more year
you'd get.

As smart as you are and all the places you've been,
your knowledge, your truths, examine within.
The best and most honest accounts of our lives,
are truly the best ways to open our eyes.

Remember this and try it some time,
when your touching a heart, don't go in blind.
Open yours up, remember the boy,
touch their hearts back, and fill them with joy.

The stories we want are the stories we've lived,
Blistered and twisted, and not just pretend.
You may be surprised with the outcome you'd get,
when you'd sleep at night, you'd dream to no end.

You do have a story, but open your heart.
Speak from the moment when your faith in love starts.
Speak of your past with honest intent,
Sprinkle those ashes, he'll love you for this.
don't leave him alone, under your desk.
Free his ashes, so he can now rest.

"I was a child who ran full of laughter,
I was a child who lived for today.
my eyes full of sunshine,
my heart full of smiles,
I was a child, for a day." *

Carmel, Cara Grey, Tree houses and
James Taylor Ray,
a sketch of a horse in his room where it laid,
A singer, an artist, he'll be this someday.
Yes he's getting older,
but he's still very young,
You are the father and he is your son.

Michael is happy and free from his fears.
He's back to his go-carts, ice hockey, crowd cheers.
Smiling and laughing and cutting it up.
I still can remember when he was young.
He loved to fix things and take them apart,
put them all back together and this is an art.
He could have done this a mortal and filled
those holes in his heart.
I know he still does this as a soul in the stars.

His journey's not over, hes still on his trip,
when he left he was reaching, but terror took him.
So next time we see him, no pain in the way,
we'll tell him we love him every heavenly day.

Nothing is over, this stories not done,
with it's bumps and it's bruises, just missing someone.
Do you think me as bad as the things that you say?
You say that i'm mad, always losing my way.
I'm putting together, to understand my mistakes,
many parts and lost pieces, before it's too late.

What I am doing is connecting the dots,
but the model I'm using, it's timeline has spots.
I'll give all my best to not let my son down,
Not haunt him with channeled, dark deafening sounds.

Los Altos, Santa Cruz, Forest grove, PBBeach
and 17 miles to drive.
The black top popped off at a high racing speed,
Looking out the door window, seemed 10 thousand feet.
My hair went mad, wild and I could not see,
that what scared me the most was right next to me.

Again, as before, her wind-chimes will ring.
She'll open her door and let the sun in.
Peace soon on her side and able to sing,
Remember her voice, soft, tender and sweet?
Remember the night I danced on your feet?
Remember the kumquats on the Paco house tree.
Remember, Dagen, Tyler, Cannabis, and Sati,
Zhivago, Crumpet, and Tuesday my cat?
Remember the "green eggs" and the "cat's big, tall hat?
Rays "Charlie Brown Christmas", the one tree we'd plant,
Big Sur, crawdads and fishing with cheese,
tire swings, laughter and everyone sings,
slept in a tent, or under the trees,
swam down the river, but not too close to the sea.

Take care of each other and inspire to live.
Try hard to keep sober and not over do it.
Meditate in your faith and give love to no end,
then wake up each morning and do it again.
over and over and over again,
till you know nothing else,
but the love that you'll give.

-- LGN written 9/19/12 (updated: 9/30/12)
* Child for a day ~Cat Stevens

6 comments:

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  3. This is a pretty good soliloqy. You have a blessed gift with your words....you R a wordsmih! Your observations are pretty much spot on and closely match my own recall of many of those memories. Mike is not under a desk. He sits hign on a Costco shelf, so he can "hear" me bitch and complain at him.

    I presume you are back in the biz of web mastering again. Make sure you let Clark know (cashattuck@gmail.com).

    Peace be with you IHS

    Your Father

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  4. I go back to this dramatic writing, one way I get to stay in touch, and marvel at her recall of some events in Laras life. We are still estranged but thats ok, I get to see her live in modern times modern technology. But all is well that ends well. I probably will not see my daughter before I am gone, but the Ray she mentions still lingers on, gratefully, in my daily life. Now if I could just figure a way to bring Lra and her big brother back together, well that would be a good thing...eh:-)

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  5. Yes it would. I Love U Dad, i really do.

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