Ranch Poem – “Take that Breath”

12/16/08

Take that Breath

Take that breath. No, not that one.
Not the survival gasp, not the obligation.
Take that breath. Yes, that one.
Slow down the buzzing molecules
and forget feeling sorry for yourself.
Isn’t it nice? Still as the pond covered
in fog. We may not see the other side,
but it isn’t visible whenever we try.
Risk it all to reach the ruins of goodness,
to exhale the pediments across
and the pogoda’s back up right.
Brutal, yet beautiful life.

RwmG

 

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Ranch Poem – “Harden”

5/5/14

“Harden”

I figure, that if it defines you,
then you shouldn’t hide it.
Even the misdoings and the losses.
Learn to embrace these aching faults,
because our humanity is frequently validated
by our experience and adversity and difference.
The delicate dreams you wish to attain
and exalting successes you wish to make
will not be without hardship and
ownership of all that you are.
Know that fully,
beyond an inkling,
then attack.
There’s no rest for the wicked
and the road is habitually hard.
“I vow to stay sharp and woken,”
these words must remain unbroken.
A series of breaks lead up to a vast opening,
the entrance appears only when it should.
Do all that you can to tenderly
mold the clay of your identity,
then toss it quickly into the kiln
and watch it harden.

RwmG

 

Ranch Poem – “The Fourth Day”

1/6/2006

The Fourth Day

In one day a man could lose a fight.
In one day a man could die.
In one day a man could make love to a woman.
In one day a man could pick up his sword.
In one day a man could grow up.

In two days a man could pick a fight.
In two days a man could be so empty, dying wouldnโ€™t help.
In two days a man could make love to another.
In two days a man could pick up his pen.
In two days a man could grow old.

In three days a man could hold his own.
In three days a man could alleviate his pain.
In three days a man could never love another woman.
In three days a man could follow his heart.
In three days a man could grow wise.

RwmG

 

Ranch Poem – “Back Seat Driver”

2/22/09

Back Seat Driver

I think sometimes. Well, more like
I don’t think, seldomly.
And those times are
few and far between
hiding harmonies
and blabbering busts.
Too late to choose to opt out.
A verdant vehicle for conception
veering,
spinning,
and crashing
out of control somewhere
near my destination, but far
off. Trying to relate to different
folks, to different post-traumatic
every-bodies, to side-steppers,
to give them a reason
for joining in on the hunt
for the wave that’s coming
for the violent fairy tale
for the way cross’ that unbridgeable gap.

You wake up in the morning
expecting to speak to someone,
who knows you?

People can hear these words,
these master accidents.
Thoughts slide away,
while what you say stings ears
and holds like glue.
People can see this long hair,
this eloquent freak flag.
We won’t run away, we will
wait for some collective hallucination
to pull us through.

Confide within confidence
and original optimism.
Watching your tightest thoughts
deflate into flabby regrets.
No anchor in time or
space to move about
comfortably.

Highs and Lows differ
between those
with rags
and those
with crowns.
Real loss is only felt when
the ego is loved less.
Your public outrage
does not translate
to your private belief.
These text novels and
laptop realities alter
the ways we think.
And it’s like walking home
down an alley off of the street,
feeling the stories tower above,
thinking about them toppling down.

I personally would rather
rise to the occasion.
Abandon persuasion.
Keep my mind and
my knees shaking.
Let um lose all respect
as long as
I do what
I know is right.
Take the gavel to
the Judge.
Take the surrealism to
the idealism.
Stupid strength
fades out quick.
Be a smart driver,
destiny can take
a back seat.

RwmG

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