Ranch Poem- “The Soloist”

3/10/12

The Soloist

Teary-eyed on jail pay phone
trying to be strong
to be positive
in the distorted face of
incarceration
A year of searching
the existential cracks of
one’s saddened heart
for belief in a life
that exists in memory
and in hopeful plans
Pains untreated
Smiles depleted
Family, friends, love
Despite the suffering
these are noble desires
that tear asunder
the soloist
standing alone among strangers
swirling lost and chained
tearing layers from lips
with sore teeth
wondering to no avail
about “them”
and what they really think
about me
Are they already afraid?
How will they know me?
Am I changed?
Taken down a peg
Joining the disadvantaged
Waving goodbye to old habits,
evil deeds, and invincibility
But what about what made me happy?
Will I have to wait much longer
to know them once again?
Wireless outernet disconnection
Dubstep in commercials taunting
convict conversation reruns
This isn’t quite me sometimes
with the constricted choices
trying to pick the middle way
fighting unsatisfactoryness
Jail sangha somehow tough
Is this the base camp for the summit?
Springing forward tenderly
December’s twenty-first
Who, what, when, where, why, how
will I be?

RwmG

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Ranch Poem – “Féinics”

3/2/16

Féinics

She is a Woman.
She is going to make a difference.
She will meet every goal and always create new ones.
She put in the hard work early, did her research,
and won’t be held back by immature thinking or insecurity.
She is grabbing hold of the new opportunity for women,
while representing in a way that will encourage further progress towards equality.
She is capable of anything when she is determined.
She won’t let social norms or pop culture or anyone tell her how she is supposed to think or feel.
She is a responsible healer exploring the cures and techniques from any hemisphere.
She will act with love towards everyone no matter what.
She knows she could not have found wisdom without the mistakes along the way.
She will live where the weather suits her and will travel to share space with the ones she loves.
She will not be a possession but won’t isolate herself.
She will bring people together and be a leader
who will guide them and lift them up with unbridled compassion.
She will always understand and cultivate her mind and body.
She will love the world unconditionally.
She will love other people unconditionally.
She will love herself unconditionally.
She will rise from every fire anew.
Like the féinics, she will rise.

RwmG

 

Ranch Poem – “The Lunar Cycle”

10/7/2007

The Lunar Cycle

I gotta be rid of her, I’ve decided.
this woman, in her bring-me-down blouse.
the subtraction to my addition.
another tarnished by a wild condition.
like most of us, behind these barricaded doors.

So I caught an outbound rail
after posting bail from the livelihood jail,
listening to the distant closeness
of the talk passed from one to one,
or one to a brink wall.

jammed wall to wall, as these places are,
I’m sure I’m alone by far,
and wide-eyed
from the aura of everything and
everyone’s power and value.
I thought that if they would just work on
carrying it well,
maybe there would be no
recession after a swell.

a loaded southern drawl reverberated
violently off of my double breasted persona image constrictor
and believe it or not,
it became impossible to think swifter.

me and all the hopheads and investors
didn’t want to know exactly what
this Deputy Dog voice meant to say.
though, at any given moment
I’m sure one of us will
snap. snap. snap. snap.

That is really what I need,
what I’ve been waiting ideally for:
an unadulterated breeze of alone.
a time slowing, frozen moment
to stiffen me up against
this unifying meaning of the mob.

a neon hot ricochet of the future tense
lies behind any door.
Will you approach cautiously,
fearing anything you weren’t told before?

Fuck it, get free from foreshadowing,
so this history life of ours won’t be such a
goddamn bore.

All I mean to do is grab everyone I know,
carry in their groceries, realize their
stress, clean up every mess and
say to their childhood selves,
“ Think it over.”

cause no one in their right mind
wants to become dead while living.
I’m boarding a living, breathing,
freethinking freight-train,
and I hate feeling sorry for
every-person left to the
comforts of cotton-modesty.
going to the dogs or getting rich,
going to the dogs by getting rich,
and embodying the everyday lunar cycle.

RwmG