Tag Archives: hope

Her Laughter; My Master

I exist inside a plain of doppelganger, doppelgangers,

That those in my inner circle can see,

But she, she moves me,
With a kindness only a mother can understand,

She touches my darkness with light,

Illuminating the invisible,

Decimating the appetite for destruction,

With a deft touch,

As gentle as a morning wind sweeping the sea,

Yet as vicious as a strengthening storm,

A dichotomy that seems oxy moron,

Yet is the stable prerequisite of love’s necessary refrain,

I am here,

I am here,

For you,

With you,

Of you,

Her laughter,

With pursed lips and widening eyes,

Like a siren and a muse,

Reaches deep within the void of my gloom,

Tickling with subtle insinuation, beyond words,

Beyond intent,

The clenched paw of Cerberus,

My nonpareil Black Dog and constant companion,

Around the chains of my chemical tempest,

Breaking them, confounding him, indeed them,

Her laughter,

With piercing resolve to lighten my load,

In the absence of mitigating words,

Her face twists and turns stunningly,

And a primal surge wells within,

Released to an awaiting beast, beasts,

My vicious inward aspersions cast,

While my imaginary friends call for impossible results,

A permanent darkness,

Replaced by,

Her laughter,

Like the sweet scent of lavender in Provence,

Or dew kissed roses in spring,

Demanding rapt imagination,

Eyes closed,

She transports me from the personal hell,

To a pivotal heaven,

Each ethereal laugh like the pluck of a minstrel’s string,

Or Nina’s voice,

Tugging through the fog of my decay,

Planting seeds that sow a temporary reprieve,

A kindness known so rarely in occasion,

Expressing the ultimate shift of a soul in flux,

A soft hammer when Father Time demands,

Stillness when Mistress Fate decides,

A grandiose calmness that unwinds the havoc,

And wreaks hope on this heavy heart, downtrodden,

Uplifted by the sweet caress of language beyond words,

Meaning beyond understanding,

Wisdom beyond years,

For in the kindness of this mother’s laugh,

Rests something more powerful than all the armies,

Standing and past,

Lives something more encompassing,

Than misfiring neurons and atomic practical jokes,

Her laugher unleashes a storm of optimism,


Within reach,

That if I can abide this one moment more,

Just one more moment,

Internal clouds will fade,

Sirens will subside,

Resplendent Muse emerging,

And in that moment, grace descended,

I am free from I and I,

From torment,

From words,

From language,

Yet filled with unseen troughs of majestic communiqué,


She knows,

Her laughter,

The penultimate gift to me,

The reminder of a life worth living,

Faith restored,

Where once again words have meaning,

But not one,

More than the prehistoric surge,

Of her liberating laughter.



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Careless? (My Heart and Soul Believe Differently)


You speak of love,
I heard you,
But they are just words,
Aren’t they,
Weren’t they,
Are they
For what do you know,
(as I continue to learn more each day)
As I now wonder,
What you meant when you said you loved me,
For surely love would not do what you have done,
Love could not, would not,
Be so callous,
So unforgiving,
So uncompromising,
How could my lover,
After promising me the world,
And forever,
An unexpected child and more,
A child I have always craved,
You allowed me to float,
Soaring above the world,
The universe in your eyes,
Understanding the full context of history,
For more than a month,
Assuring me,
That what we had was real,
That it would last,
And in less than a year,
The daddy you now called me,
Words that made my soul tremble,
Would soon be the daddy,
That a child already loved would call me,
Raised toward the light;

Changing me,
For the better,
To be everything that I could be,
Everything that I am,
And will become,
Due to love enjoyed,
To enrich our child,
Uplift and inspire it,
Teach it well the world in which it is born,
And to aspire to the world that it could be,
You speak of love,
Yet leave me torn and broken,
Wishes of a future torn asunder,
Confused, it would seem,
Without a trace,
Of the love with which you spoke,
Claimed to have for me,
Professed as simply as any other statement,
But the sentiment it seems,
Is lost on you,
And is now lost on me,
Confused though you may be,
Love finds a way,
For surely,
This tragic loss,
Has wounded me in every way imaginable,
A pain that will endure,
Just as it had before,
Years before tragedy reborn,
And it is as if you don’t care,
Won’t care,
Can’t care,
But that is not love,
Do you love me,
I think you do,
I think your misperception has made it easier for you,
Letting go,
Giving in,
Giving up,
Without so much as an explanation,
And cowardly avoidance too boot,
But you are not a coward,
Awash in the cultural differences,
Between what I thought was true,
And what has quite simply revealed itself,
As the bogus words,
Of a confused and not so innocent little girl,
Whom I still love,
And always will,
Are you scared,
Of love,
Of us,
Of the challenges we must face?

Given the chance,
I know you would see,
Beyond the thin veneer,
Realizing just how sensitive I am,
Since a young boy,
Filled with hope and empathy,
Finding out how much I would give,
Could give,
For you,
For our love,
For our child,
And the future we could share,
Given the chance,
You would see how much I’ve changed,
With room always left to grow,
Given the chance,
You would discover,
That my words and actions combine,
Into a force more powerful than any known before,
You would see my tears,
And not mock them,
With feigned love,
Daily for you,
Given the chance,
You would see…

Can you?
Will you?
For that is what love would do,
And in my heart of hearts,
I do believe,
I shall believe that you did and do love me,
Don’t you?

And I,
I will always love you,
My Hmong Key,
And I am ready, willing and able,
To stand to any challenge,
Ravage the test of time,
To show you,
To show the world,
What real love would do,
Given the chance…

My love is true,
For you,
For now
And everlasting,
I will always be here,
For you.

Can you decide,
To be a lover,
To refuse to be so careless with another heart and soul,
Lifelong desires,
Are you strong enough,
To give us,
One more try,


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At every point,

That I have turned,

I have been disappointed,

And disappointing;

Blessed and cursed,

As I struggle to comprehend,

How I end up this way,

How we all end up this way;

Searching and not finding,

Seeking and discovering no solace,

Leading to problems of the spirit and the soul,

Crushed intentions and broken hearted,

As Leonard Cohen,

(through this beautiful rendition, extraordinary)

Tugs at the outstretched strings,

As picturesque and subtle beauty,

Only comes in black and white,

Moments of sepia exaltation,

And the only word I can spare,

Is Hallelujah?

At every point,

Of this tragic life,

Divine comedy,

I have pushed on,


(Though no Hemingway pulled just yet)


(Though not sure of what save love)

Figuring out,

What I know,

And what I do not;

Knowing that the latter is winning that battle,

And yet, the war rages on,

Deep within,

Returning still to the faint hope,

Of the sun as it reaches a cross,

Just as it has in my life.

At every point,

I have reached toward the heavens,

The glorious celestial body from which I came,

Spiritual and not religious,

Every atom of my being,

Star dust,

The wisdom of billions of years,

Contained in this fragile frame,

As I thrash about,


Cohen beckoning me to believe,


Just not sure what,

Nor is he.

At every point,

I have found,

That I am lost,

Wandering lust fully engaged,

Doppelgangers and Black Dog’s,

The voices in my head and temporary delusions,

Polar opposites,

Attempting to know,

That which refuses to be known,

In a useless quest,

That will only leave me,


Crucified on my own submission,

To that tender emotion,

That is rife with terror,

Fears and in my case, always;


At every point,

One way here,

Another way there,

Lonely and yet surrounded,

Never quite alone,

Never quite inside the line,


The clouds,

My tears reveal,

And again,

Leonard pulls me back,

A giant,

Pulling out of me,

Everything I have left,

But can I show it?

Did he?

Do you?

And if I do,

Then what?

Manic depression,

The continual vicissitudes,

Posited dimensions,

Whereby my demons are my shadows,

And the circles of hell constantly invite me,

Ever nearer,

To a fate we all know,

Since the moment of our first breath.

At every point,

Loathing save for when I love,

For whom I love,

Is like an angels choir,

Many voices united,

(not like those in my head)

In prayer,

But to who or what,

Is not so clear,

And if it were, would it still be so majestic?

Leonard says he has done his best,

And I know he has,


As I have,

As I do,

Continuing daily

To begin the process anew,

Of healing,

Still torn, not tattered,

Battered but not beaten,

And yet,

For us both,

It is vain,

That we wait for something we will never know,

At least not in this life,

Could we?

At every point,


My cross screaming out to be seen,

Born as we all are,

Of suspicions and longings,

Wanting to be felt,

Aching to be known,

For what I am,

For who I am,

For when this life is over,

My words will remain;

I did my best,

And whatever you are;




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Nothing More

In spite of the challenges,

Both real and imagined;

Bipolar realities of immense consequences,

The hope  is temporarily muddled,
Somehow, the Ether allows me the trespass,
Of these words,
Those become my mental temptress,
Outwardly manifested for you,
While inwardly struggling,
Some of sorrow,
Others of joy,
Some of delight,
While others still of pain,
Nothing more nor less,
This truth presented,
Without pretense,
At the very least none intended,
For you to see,
Can you feel this subjugation I encounter daily?

Worshipping at the syllables that make these words;

Bowing down to the thoughts,
Those force my sublimation,
Still finding the will to fight,
To carry on,
To continue this journey of greatness intended;

In spite,

Of those challenges;

For I know no other way,
I know no other means,
Fighting for my survival,
Hoping that someone out there,
Can feel this pain and find meaning in their own,
Perhaps to paint,
Make pottery,
Take a picture,
Or write words just like these;

Moreover, for those that will cast aspersions at me,

Know this,
Fully and without equivocation,
Due to you,


I will move on,
As will you,
I will press on,
As will you,
I will reemerge victorious,
All the while searching,
For a better me,
And you a better you,
Or perhaps you will still live in fear,
However, I will find,
The one I am,
All the while knowing,
That no matter my flaws,


Comedy and tragedy,
(the same be true for you)
That out there somewhere,
Toiling in the Ether,
Is a woman,
Who with nothing more than a smile,
Can free me,
Liberate me,
From this burden,
And maybe,
Just maybe,
I believe deep down,
That she may hold the key,
Mon Cle,
Mon Key,
To finally accepting,
As what I am,
A writer,
A teacher,
A lover,
A husband,
A father,
And a truly dedicated liver of life;

And nothing more.

Or perhaps much, much more!


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WE are the CHILDREN!

We are the children,
We need not know of the iniquity of the past,
Save that We,
The children,
Will learn and grow,
So that we may right the wrongs that were handed to us,
An intergenerational tyranny that is as old as time itself.

We are the children,
Africans, Asians, North Americans, South Americans and Europeans,
Those hold on our shoulders a weight,
That even Atlas himself could not withstand,
With no alternative,
Our parents,
Adults the world over,
Have failed us,
In that you teach us to be ‘good children,’
And yet, your daily actions,
Are in direct contravention to what you preach,
We’re curious,

We are the children,
That need to find and develop,
Green technologies,
Settle age old boundary disputes in an age when the world as a whole,
Is more important than a sliver of land,
Yet you fight over it,
You kill and maim and destroy,
Thus, we ask you,
What kind of example are you setting?

We are the children,
Those come together to play,
Leaving behind the folly of race,
For we all are one,
We are a team,
The team,
That will finally put to rest,
The many issues that you’ve left for us,
And we accept your challenge,
Yet bemoan that when you could have acted differently,
We were and are your answer.

We are the children,
Smiling all,
Come together through this ball,
A beautiful football,
(Soccer for you in North America),
To play this game,
That is a metaphor for the coming challenges,
As strikers, keepers, mid fieldsman and defense,
Will rise to meet the coming day,
Heralding a new horizon,
Where peace is not only possible but a reality,
Where environmental holocaust is averted,
Where what makes us different is not nearly as strong,
As what unites us,
And united,
We children say unto,
Watch out,
For our day is coming,
And thus,
So too is the new horizon…

Though we do ask of you,
Don’t mess this world up so bad,
That we can’t mark a new day,
And we entreat you,
To embrace your inner child,
For in that innocence,
You’ll make our job,
That much easier…

We are the children,
Your children,
Begging of you,
A chance,
For a better tomorrow.

We are a force,
And soon we will be reckoned with,

We are YOUR children!


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Happy Valentine’s Day

Happy Valentine’s Day
Lovers lost the world over,
Be still your heart,
Calm your frayed nerves,
And excite the possibility of hope,
The tantalizing opportunity that sure will arise,
For without such hope all is lost,
So please look within and tap that great strength,
That has brought you to here,
Kept you going,
In the absence of that special smile,
A tender kiss or a telling hug,
Know that this life is long,
That as the days go by,
Someone, somewhere and sometime,
Is going to enter your life,
Turning upside down and backside up again,
Everything you once thought you knew,
Flies out the window,
On butterfly wings that start in your stomach,
The fevered pitch of emotional grandeur,
When love first excited your every fiber,
It is out there,
The time is not yet nigh,
Though, without a doubt, you will know,
It will smack of ill reason and faulty logic,
Be still your heart,
Discover the love that you have for yourself,
Embrace it, cultivate it and allow your spirit to shine,
For when love approaches, you must be ready,
That you may share that intrinsic beauty with another,
Whose feelings,
Will be just as ripe as your own,
Seen in that telltale look,
That will melt away all troubled feelings of past transgressions,
Love is not a spectator sport,
Requiring your continued effort,
As your soul ascends to the heavens,
Dancing with a pleasure you’ll adore,
So sit back, don’t look for it and know,
Your desires soon will allow you to soar,
As lovers always do,
And seeing your face,
I know,
As all I can whisper,

And shine with me!

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Concentric Cirlces

Bound and tightening knots,
Viscera turned and twisted,
Triumphant feelings arise,
Just as Phoenix reborn time and again,
Out of the ashes of a love decayed,
Hope restored and unchecked,
Robust agitations inside a craving mind,
As the soul longs yet unfulfilled,
Remembering that pain of loss, tragic,
More still the illustrious illuminations,
Of a childlike wonder and awe,
The unexplained actions and reactions,
Love, dear to all aspirations,
Of feeling mortals,
Such tumultuous and uncontrollable functions,
Of a body determined to realize passions veneration.

The sovereignty of the individual,
Presupposes laws of attraction,
As ordained by the great unknown,
Not just within, also, further than your imagination can acquire,
Deep insights into what it means to be one,
With yourself,
For before there can ever be two,
One needs to know,
Who and what they are,
What they seek,
Requiring a robust truthfulness that is rare,
In times,
Such of these,
Where instant gratification rules the day,
And the day appears long,
Shorter still then of love’s promise restored,
A lifetime shared.

Shall love require the transfer,
Of all one is to another,
At the expense of self,
No, dare it be required,
That the exact opposite be true,
Where no love can be so true,
Unless those party to it,
Are willing to acknowledge, understand and accept,
Without equivocation,
What love’s presentation requires,
Knowledge of self,
Anything less will make feeble such great emotion,
Leading down a decaying path, lasting perhaps years,
Perhaps only days,
Nosce Te Ipsum.

Standing near the waters edge,
Low tide driven by the moon,
A shingle invites the opportunity,
For concentric circles,
Skipping stones off a sheet of glass,
Reflecting back to you,
Everything you need to know,
About the way that love should inspire,
Concentric circles.


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