Same God, Different Names

Deviled angels, angelic devils

And every iteration in between;

As eternal sorrow roots

Utter ecstasy,

Death shadows

Sunlit leaves.

Purity is a fool’s notion:

‘I want to be happy’

A dull, despair invoking refrain.

All is interconnected,

All is ambivalent, 

All is reincarnation;

All is one.

No one exists alone,

Despite our bleak beliefs.

Unbearable Injustice

 

Unbearable injustice

Wakes one at 5:16,

There will be no more sleep.

He tells them, “Focus on what you can control,

Accept what is beyond your control,”

But he can’t self counsel, 

He can only replay the video: 

Terrorized children beg ICE not to take their father,

Their pleaded cries, 'No, no, no…please don’t take my Daddy.’

Imposed agony ruins the petals,

Severs the spine, once in a lifetime cells

Permanently damaged. 

He can only think of his own father’s disappearance,

He’s in his mother’s arms,

Scared silent, powerless in the cradle of abuse. 

Born to monsters,

Why would humans create this horrible life,

Put on costumes, make up a narrative,

Torture powerless people,

Why would God watch,

Shouldn’t children be gardened,

Where is the life that should be,

Why did they create hell

Throw babies into it?

He can’t be here anymore,

But it’s the only place he can be. 

I’m in my mother’s arms crying

as I've always been.

No one hears me,

for I am merely an extension of her,

unseen

Shadow-clouds form your Body above me

Close my eyes,

Shadow-clouds form

Your body above me. 

“Come on,

Eternity awaits…

Swim with me.”

Off we run into the ocean.

We return tired,

A gentle yet gritty, temperate whisper

Forms your caress. 

Half asleep to the song:

Children laughing,

Gulls crying,

Ocean praying.

The sorrowful longing finally subsides

As all I am is this living dream.

 

Our Suffering

Our suffering has no purpose

(Thus, life is meaningless)

Unless we use it 

To connect to one another. 

Suffering is the ancient, ubiquitous 

Root system of humanity, 

And on the exactly opposing end 

Of suffering we find

The beautiful joy blossoms.

   

Those that haven’t the courage

To embrace their own suffering

Haven’t fortitudinous roots when tempests strike

Haven’t joyous blossoms when dawn awakes.

They are deadwood, driftwood

On the forest floor, on the deserted shore.

Mere firewood.

To grow courageous, embrace suffering.

To live free, realize you only control yourself. 

To be happy, love others as you love yourself. 

God is with us in our suffering,

We will not be spared, for it's part of life.

May we empathize with each other,

May we give what God has given us. 

 I never belong here,

Born in captivity,
Fanged, genetic ferocity,
Wasted circling purposeless, the caged savannah,
Intensely drab midwestern city--Omaha--zoo.

Always felt misborn,
Broken beasts reaching for Some life semblance,
How does one become, be
So misplaced?
Wildness bursting
Only to be struck, condemned.

Sometimes I want to die,
I’d rather my energy be
Dirt embraced.
A Black-eyed Susan
In Hanging basket
Adorning the Savannah cafe;
Above crying children
Beauty roaring.

 Grandpap Carson in the Field & Boy Seated on a Stump Watching

Listen here, you mean bastard,

What’s done is done,

But I will not simply forgive for my sake,

I will hold you accountable at my own expense.

 

It’ll be even more difficult now

Since you’ve gone to grave:

Robert E. Carson,

I’m here above

Genetically linked, separated

By 6 feet of earth and eternity.

 

I saw you tilling leaves in the fall,

And mumbling grace with a long-jowled face

Behind a steaming bowl of mashed potatoes.

I think you read Ranger Rick to me once,

And then expected me to read it to myself thereafter.

Passionate about boring things like Presbyterianism, baseball, golf, and eggplant—

Loved cheese and God’s anger, but didn’t exude sharpness or Jesus.

An ungraceful, fleshy, mole-spotted

Passionless educator focused on forms and rules.

You would have rather been a farmer,

But a plague wiped out all your chickens, leaving you broke.

You saw me as my father, didn’t like me,

Even though I was a beautiful, innocent boy named after you.

You criticized my mother because she wasn’t her sister.

You imposed some pain that you could not speak;

How many did you hurt?

I still see you

Growing green beans; 

Standing within the rows, conjuring, wiping your forehead

With a snow white hanky.  Seated on a stump,

I watched just as angels 

Gaze upon God.

 

There was always a girl in my mother

The way there’s a boy in me

Still sitting bored, watching powerless, waiting dumb

For you to see me

And love me. 

I hate that. I hate you for that.

You cruel bastard.

 You are Healing When

You are no longer running

For your life in 5 am moonlight,

Or falling asleep via Miller High Life;

When you are no longer exploding

Like a delicate puffball,

At the slightest unexpected touch,

Injecting toxic spores into the gentle breeze.

                                       And after that lifetime, another one:

 Tempest trembling

Sultry tears wash your neck and face, 

Sinking march always homeless 

It seems in May rains;

Pouring over books,

Candlelit garage meditating

Silence housing

Night’s aching echoes;

Amygdala learns to signal 

Prefrontal Cortex rather than your Hypothalamus;

Reality is presently grounded

Rather than past rooted.

                                                               And after that lifetime, another one:

Orient towards light

Laughing, listening, focusing, 

Conveying I’m here connected to you--

Accepting healthy vulnerability. 

Next, drain blood, as if you have cancer,

And strain out all the lead

Till light calm falls over you like dew

And spring water pools in your heart. 

And finally realize resilience is

A choice admiring you each morn in the mirror;

That all the elements of your trauma

Must be cradled like a beloved child in your lap.