We Are Wolves

We Are Wolves

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers,
but to be fearless in facing them.

Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but
for the heart to conquer it.”
Rabindranath Tagore, Collected Poems and Plays of Rabindranath Tagore

Late night, strong red and pale yellow lights
Flashes of the screaming train roar by
Monsters spewing hate from clean, shiny car windows
Busted shoes are hitting the street
Trying to scrounge up what courage we have
While others flippantly rain their way on down

Hustling to make it, but feeling like we hit a wall
America, no political commentary at all, but you’ve got us–
Feeling hungrier than a Nightcrawler.
Going tooth and nail just to eat, and to keep the lights on

It’s a sense of desperation, but we own it
All is well, but not by much other than raw volition
Baggy eyes and polluted energy, are the price to pay
For an idealized portrait to show others
Which we’re all conditioned from birth to do
Excepting that less is more, would free us from so much

How ironic

No victim here.
Just take the hits; endure
Not the worst situation by far
But steady on my boy, hold the line
And with organization and smarts

We will not be “fine”; we will thrive.

Because while we may not be regal, complacent and well-groomed lions—
We are scrappy; we are determined; and we are unbreakable wolves

 

Das ist der Zauberberg

Das ist der Zauberberg

Ich war einmal tief verliebt / Und sie war perfekt
Zu perfekt für meine Muttersprache / Zu perfekt für meine eigenen Worte
Und jedes Mal, wenn ich sie sah, würde ich das bittersüße Lied zu mir singen:

 
“Das gibt’s nur einmal,
das kommt nicht wieder.
Das ist zu schön,
um wahr zu sein…
So wie ein Wunder
fällt auf uns nieder
vom Paradies ein gold’ner Schein.”

 
Wir waren zusammen auf dem Zauberberg, der alle Krankheiten heilt
Aber dann zerfielen wir zusammen und zerbrachen
Es ist wie Lilian sagt:

 
“Jedes Pärchen glaubt das Märchen.
Liebe hat ewig Bestand!
Doch du weißt es, einmal heißt es:
Reich mir zum Abschied die Hand!
Dann ist der Himmel nicht mehr blau!
Dann weißt du’s ganz genau.”

 
Wir verließen unsere Magic Mountain, und jetzt ist es für immer verschwunden

Life in a Market

Life in a Market

Seeing drab supermarkets like no other, with creative lenses

Looking at those same dreary aisels through pastel, cleanes

This landscape and shop of steel and glass, melts my misery

Through it, every human story walks in and checks out

And through each laugh or petty frustration, inspiration sprouts

 

Not to an ultimate truth or meaning, but something better:

We’re all insolvents here, but we can live as more than debters

Seeing feelings and souls through each other’s doe eyes,

There might be more to our knotty, difficult lives

Nothing deep or complicated, just something to help us be

A little less frustrated

 

And it’s through this camera, one rooted in heart

We record our basic nature, until we all part

 

Beneath all the garbage, written on paper and plastic wrappings

One can see what sustains us, beneath all their trappings
It’s nothing special, just life in a market

Where we blend our existence with a strange machine

But between the wheels and the grind we can still live through our dreams

Wraith

Wraith

Orange street lights and railway cars

Flicker and howl beneath each star

Dark winds sigh and chill the neck

A blanket of ice all across my trek

A Prussian blue sky rests pensively above

Yet now is not the time for love

Despite the cold and despite the breeze,

They are an exception to the calm

Emptiness is making waves of trouble

I’m trapped inside a constricting bubble

It’s not anxiety, it’s not real danger

Perhaps it’s all part of something stranger

Something sinister, something dark

The thing that makes you panic in a park

But it’s not outside, it’s all internal

Wraiths flashing of recently departed friends

Still Unknown shapes, unfamiliar signs

Squeaky swings send shivers up my spine

Perhaps high aesthetics require some mystery

Or even a dark and fabled history

But this gnawing horror is grossly plain

It encourages me to become lost within the rain

A departed friend, who left by choice

I still hear echoes of his voice

Don’t Let Go

Don’t Let Go

Weary, near the mountaintop

Bones, grinding against the rock

A bloody ascent, a steep climb up

Cutting the rope is an easy descent

But the gales and my spirit are mighty

So my flesh firmly holds on

And my hope soars high with the winds