Love Letter to the World

Dove in a cat’s jaw

Blood stained feathers of mourning

And trophy of life continuing

A volcano belches its torment

Trees fold and flowers to dust

Yet new life is nourished by the loss

Locusts swarm devouring the landscape

Crops are consumed by the feasting storm

But when calm returns, another feast awaits many more

Nature’s a delicate equilibrium

Of darkness and of light

We are the only species

Who break that balance day and night

Humans kill for pleasure

Humans kill for pain

Humans kill for money

Humans kill for fame

Humans kill for power

Humans kill for state

Humans kill for love

Humans kill for hate

We have the choice to stop killing

Even with a history of its shame

We have the choice to stop killing

But too many profit from its pain

Humans can be builders

Humans can be destroyers

Humans can be doctors

Humans can be lawyers

Humans can be smart

Humans can be dumb

Humans can be fearful

Humans can be numb

Humans can be almost anything

Because they have freedom of will

We can be better than animals

Or worse ever still

So when humans make choices

Why not choose love?

Why not choose light?

Why not choose to do

What we know is right?

This isn’t chasing false Utopia

This is aspiring to lost potential

This isn’t fighting a lost battle

It’s seeking rewards exponential

This isn’t an impossible dream

It’s a plea for responsibility

This isn’t an empty prayer

This is acting with divinity

When the dove is in your hand

Let it fly where it longs

And feel the beauty of its flight

When a life is in your grasp

Help it to grow strong

And feel god’s enduring might

When a tree is in your yard

Tend to all of its needs

And rejoice in its sweet fruit

When a child is in your home

Teach it to do good deeds

And encourage it with truth

When darkness feeds off ones you love

Do not allow their spirits to fall

And use love to show them opportunity

When parched earth brings you great bounty

Share it with your neighbors all

And feel the joy that is “our” community

When the choice is love or hate

Hate is drinking poison

And expecting the hated to die,

But Love is drinking nectar

That teaches the world to fly.

by David Stein 5/23/2013

© 2013 by David Stein.  All rights reserved.

3am – Part 2

3am - Part 1 (In case you missed it.).

How many games of solitaire?

How many shadows at which to stare?

How many “I wish I hadn’t” snacks?

How many “I forgot to do it” attacks?

How many self-important talk show guests?

How many loved animals disturbing your rest?

How many hours chatting about frenemies?

How many hours slaying fictional enemies?

How many over-plucked eyebrows left lacking?

How many plans for early sleep sent packing?

How many recommended books absorbed?

How many crime scene crooks abhorred?

How many worries about things you didn’t mean?

How many late night movies you’ve already seen?

How many “do later” dishes piled in your sink?

How many un-prescribed medicinal drinks?

How many solemn hours of saying amen?

How many unneeded purchases on HSN?

How many over-prescribed pills did you take?

How many food related ills can’t you shake?

How many scoreboards have you checked?

How many relationships have you wrecked?

How many meaningless tweets did you tweet?

How many wasted hours wandering the streets?

How many chilly trips to the latrine?

How many re-read fashion magazines?

How many irreverent Facebook posts?

How many unwelcome imaginary ghosts?

How many ways are there to feel lonesome at night?

How many loops of that song will make you feel right?

How many renditions of “ok my last smoke?”

How many renditions of “just one more toke?”

How many nights trying to forget you’re alone?

How many years without a place that feels like a home?

How many thoughts of who will bring flowers?

How many ways to waste away the hours?

How many sheep? 

Baaaaaaaaaaaaah!

GO TO SLEEP!

by David Stein 04/17/2013 – 5/15/2013

© 2013 by David Stein.  All rights reserved.

Angels in Harmony

So many roads run through life
Leading every which way
Never Knowing where they lead
Or how long we will stay

Seems like just yesterday
An encounter so brief
Lead me to an angel
Who healed my back and grief

Having no supernal wings
His halo a cowboy hat
His harp an electric bass
And his music was all that

His heart was made of gold
His soul was full of fire
Mistakes were made like all of us
Even going against desires

Not perfect by any standard
Except to those who loved him
Loving too much to say no
When their loss overwhelmed him

He always gave us of himself
He gave as much as he knew how
But he forgot to help himself
I wish he knew what I know now

Taken too soon for those who knew him
A void that can’t possibly be filled
Rare spirit riding into sunset
Missed always through so many tears spilled

But along with his life teachings
And music that made us feel it
He left us another angel
Gifted with his catching spirit

A child with fire and grit
Makes him smile as he looks down
A woman whose love is big
Her voice a heavenly sound

Her soft wings sprout from vocal charms
A halo of unbridled hair
Her harp being a tuned guitar
Her music too deep to compare

Someone I’m proud to call sister
Though no blood do we share
A bond built in understanding
About a world for which we care

Though neither of us is rich
When it comes to worldly goods
Bound by the wealth of our souls
Understanding the common good

Sharing a view of better life
A free world represented well
Where all can live in harmony
Something that nobody can sell

So today upon her birthday
I look up and say thanks aloud
For someone to share his memory
Knowing he couldn’t be more proud.

 
for John and Gia...

Dr. John Ciambotti

 

 

Dr. John and his daughter Gia

 by David Stein 9/13/2011

© 2011, 2013 by David Stein.  All rights reserved.

Ode to a Platypus

Wrapped up in the seasonal waters of life's full circle,
Deep, blue, and icy as the night alone,
He frolics and awaits the sound of destiny,
A star-crossed platypus singing at the wind.
The world he has traveled from top to bottom in search of an angels eyes.
Swishing back and forth across the sea of time,
Stopping a moment to climb upon a resting rock,
He tends to an itch as best he can
While searching the vast horizon for hopes beacon,
That funny faced platypus with her duck-billed, iridescent smile,
Who'll enliven these waters with waves of heartfelt laughter,
Gently scratching the spots he can't reach on his own.
Closing his eyes with smiling thoughts, he dives down once again.
Across the sea floor, he feels his way with his bill,
Past each grain of oh so solitary sand,
Settling to the bottom of another day.
Then surfacing again, the rhythm of the rain surrounds him,
Each drop washing away the past and bringing with it new life.
An untrodden freshness fills the air with kind fate.
A presence sets the surface rippling with childlike joy,
And the sun pushes the clouds aside to help the cherub make its mark.
Behold a heavenly smile emerging from the depths of destiny.
His soul set afire with the inspiring melody of her song,
And as night sets in, a newborn fullness encompasses each moment.
They have found love's den under the light of the southern cross.

                    For Jenny and Kirk,
                    Wishing You a Lifetime of Happiness,
                    Your Friend Always,
                               Love -Dave

By David Stein
February 1990
Recited in front of 200 Australian wedding guests after also reciting a beat poem called Marriage by the grooms request.  I told him I would only read the beat poem, which is not very romantic to say the least, if I could read my own original poem too.  The crowd was silent after the first poem, but I received an ovation for this poem.

© 1990,2013 by David Stein. All rights reserved.

From a Single Thought

A huge hand grasps your chest

Breath is swiftly illusive

The searingly deep strangulation

Of sudden tension racing down your back

Your heart too big for your chest

Spiteful knives thrust in by spasms grip

Desperate contemplation to avoid more

Where lies the valley of calm?

Dropping still

Forcing air back in

Stuttering exhales of frustration

It is upon you again

From a single thought

Anxiety beseeches your company

by David Stein 4/14/2013

© 2013 by David Stein.  All rights reserved.

Devilroo

Searching for
    some peace of mind,
We set out to
    a tranquil site,
In a place
    called Wilson's Prom,
A sanctuary
    from social blight.

Camped out on
    32nd Ave.,
It seems some things
    you can't escape,
From the fees
    to breath fresh air,
To herds of children
    on the make.

One good campsite
    deserves another,
So set your tent up
    next to mine.
If your music
    is a bother,
Turning ours up
    will do just fine.

It's so nice
    to be in the wilds,
Toilets flushing
    just in sight,
Don't forget
    your favorite mattress,
Or you might not
    survive the night.

With our campsite
    now secured,
It's Time to quench
    that hard worked thirst.
Tossing open
    the well stocked cooler,
I pop the cork
    with dry lips pursed.

After toasting,
    I tilt my head
Gulping down
    the entire glass,
Then we notice
    the cooler's half empty
And an hour's
    barely past.

Suddenly,
    we realize
We have some
    uninvited guests
As they begin
    to gnaw away
At unclothed shanks
    of well groomed flesh.

So we attempt
    to fend them off,
Those nasty little
    vampirish pests,
By dancing
    an insect spray dance,
Called
    the Mosquito Bangladesh.

Now the grill
    has begun to sizzle
With an assortment
    of tasty beasts,
And the cooks
    are still marinating...
Themselves, quite well,
    for the feast.

As the remnants
    are disposed of
And the fire
    is put to rest,
The well-stocked cooler
    now nears empty
and the conversation's
    at its best.

The closing roar
    of the ocean
Does Signal us
    the waning hours,
As some well-dressed
    wombats pass us
on their way
    to the showers.

Realizing
    our lack of manners,
We invited them
    for a drink.
They didn't mind
    the cameras flashing,
But they said
    our music stinks.

So off they went
    in a flurry
Of the purest
    wombat speed,
Leaving us to
    our private demons
And a few more
    tankers of mead.

Well wrapped
    in bottled blankets,
We finally
    said adieu
To an evenings
    conversation
And the flushing
    of the loo.

Entrenched
    in zippered netting
To keep
    blood suckers at bay,
We settled
    into slumber
From our
    oh so trying day.

Like a bunch
    of just dead mummies
Lined up in
    a well spaced row,
Slowly sliding
    down the hillside
Until we're lying
    toe to toe.
   
We curl up tight
    in our bags
To keep out
    the evening's chill,
But the radiators
    we once called skin
Can't say they're
    the slightest bit thrilled.

An hour later,
    we're finally asleep,
And Mr. Bladder
    says hello.
I try to get
    out quietly,
But the one-way zipper
    just says no.

I fumble
    for a minute
Until everyone's
    awake,
Then I finally
    get it open
Pretending it was
    a piece of cake.

After taking care
    of business,
I settle
    back to bed,
But the forest's
    gnawing noises
Start running
    through my head.

Then something
    starts a sniffing
All around
    our tent,
Add a little
    scratching,
And my nerves reveal
    they're spent.
   
So I nudge
    the person next to me,
And not dreaming
    I'm assured,
That the something
    in the shadows
Is really six feet tall
    with fur.

It moves around
    to the front
And we begin
    to fear the worst,
With images
    of fangs and claws
And leaving
    in a Hearse.

Both of us
    are cringing
As it pulls
    the flap aside
And we realize
    our dilemma
With nowhere
    left to hide.

Two eyes appear
    in the dark,
And there's nothing
    else to do,
But hold our breath
    until it's gone,
That hideous
    Devilroo!

Thinking quick,
    I use my flash
To scare
    the beast away.
Not knowing
    that the mossie net,
Would reflect it
    in my face.
   
So now we're blind
    but laughing,
And everyone's
    awake,
We tell about
    the Devilroo,
And our friends
    call us a fake.

Not for a minute
    will they trust
The story
    we have told,
Because everyone knows
    the Devilroo
Doesn't come out
    when it's cold.

So when your outside
    braving the wilds,
And you see that
    hideous Devilroo,
Just close your eyes
    until it goes away
And your friends won't think
    you've lost a screw!


By David Stein
February 25, 1990
Based on  camping in Australia
© 1990,2013 by David Stein. All rights reserved.

The Seeker and the Soulmate

Lost between the rediscovered promise of true love
And past failures of co-dependence and self-doubt
A pack animal without a pack
No longer needing, but still wanting
Never knowing when we will meet
Yet having always known you
An undeniable search
For every answer I discover
I also find new questions
A journey shared with few
Yet most pursue
Persevering until I find you
In a perfect storm
Where perfection does not lie in finding the meaning of life
But in finding that life that begins with the realization of love
A place where souls meet
And dance in fiery circles
Like rediscovered artifacts
What is old is new
What is new is old
Where your arms are the buried treasure
An end within a beginning
When it no longer matters what I do
But that I am doing it with you


by David Stein 4/13/2013
Revised 6/11/2014
© 2013-2014 by David Stein.  All rights reserved.