Poems

I can forestall my central nervous system's

level or strength of activity by sipping alky

thusly decreasing all my emotional feeling

but I like living a purely human experience

Here in the presence of cellular might,

whilst still alive in time's sacred power

I remember my belief in science truths

and accept a breath late 'pon our hours

Now at these moments of real purpose,

when everything's at factualized intent

I study at love light and compassionate

and seek all searching kindnesses scent

In the routine box of everyday life

where mundane normally repeats,

a boring exists as commonly good

entertained by all others tall feats

If extraordinary 'tis dream's desire

our waiting's surely not an answer,

and big wishes met before endings

ring up an unusually poetic dancer

Pushing sixty-four and somebody needs me

my ten almost eleven-year-old stepson Yen,

first born child of my Cambodian wife Eang 

got asked in school if he had a father figure

 replied yes, and the man's name is Mr. Marshall

when next asked what line of work his father makes

Won't be the sad Ebenezer Scrooge uncle

shan't act as mean, grumpy Uncle Grinch

can't feel me far away, aloof Uncle Forget

so, I play Uncle Young at Heart Ever Since

Got close again to what Buddha here says

since I'm alive in fine Cambodian country

reminded myself of the wisdom he knows

finding truths in his deep understandings

I'm heartened once more by this accuracy

such logic brings niceness's to well-being

yet remorsefully I'm touched by sadness's

as so many billions hath zero kind feeling

Same shit, different decade

forgetting kind compassion

still caught by hateful habit

of hurting people closest to us

No cause these temptations

to destroy and toss love's all

I'm remembering a firmness

mirroring gratefully humble

I adore my sister, I always have

will 'til I'm beneath green grass

I love my Sissy, oh forever shall

'twas true then yet still 'tis now  

I'm here aware the mystery of,

why we're stingy with our love

the cost so small for us to give 

new we gift now better we live

One more miracle 'tis really what we'll need

singularly rare, a phenomenal wonder freed

here inside us, portent poet Poe's been seen

glum literary marveling hope in every being

Since before, as in Neanderthal's feelings

pre-men imbedding pre-women's wombs,

when offspring became more than a drop

birthing an age of our unconditional love.

And when our miracle went,

long in anticipated awaiting

tears of pure, ecstatic loving

called up from bosom's deep