Speakeasy

Have you
discovered
the Password
to your
Speakeasy?

The Shibboleth
that swings
open
the doorway
to the
Sanctum,

where you are
beloved and
held in such
esteem

that a grinning
spirit
greets you,
bearing
words or
a tune or
an image or
a dance move,

on a silver
platter
held in red
velvet gloves?

Or an invitation
to close your
eyes
while reclining on
a silk cushion
disguised as
your couch
and
daydream
what it means
to be
divine?

When a
Wise One said
“Ask and it will be
given
to you,
Seek and you will
find,
Knock and
the door will be
opened
to you,”

I believe
He was talking
about your
Speakeasy.

(Photo by Crew; Unsplash)

 

You Know

There are those
among us,
perhaps you
are one,

who remember
when they
had not yet
chosen
the flesh and blood
persona
in which they
would inhabit
a place on
Earth.

They speak of
The Veil
that was drawn
behind them,
once they had
chosen,
so as not to
be overwhelmed
by longing
to return.

But that is not
to say
The Mystery
that lies behind
The Veil
cannot be
entered.

You know
exactly what
it was you
were doing
the last time
you slipped
behind
The Veil
and breathed in
The Mystery.

What is it
that prevents you
from doing that
Now?

(Photo by Jeremy Bishop; Unsplash)

 

Radio Prophecies

Today
my car radio
has read my
mind,

a prophet
divining
answers to
a question
broadcast
a thousand times
an hour:

What is Love?

Beyond the bromides
and the breakups.

Hear this,
Seeker:

Today I will
tell you
the story
of a young man
who makes
Youtube movies
of his
conversations
with a
Squirrel Puppet,

in which he
confesses his
sadness
and the Squirrel,
in a cartoon
falsetto,
comforts him
with
Squirrel Puppet
Wisdom.

I Am in Love.

(Photo by Dawid Zawila; Unsplash)

 

Just Do This

Do you pray?

When you do,
do you conjure
a whole litany
of careful words?

Reverent greetings
with enough
gratitude?
Sufficient
humility?
Holy Father,
Sacred Mother.

Don’t forget
your guardian
angels and
respect to
your spirit
guides.

A couple of
mantras
invoking
at least a
mustard seed
of faith.

Come prepared
with some
Holy Writ
on the tip of
your tongue.

Or maybe
all you need
to do is
phone home
once in awhile.

The One
who gave birth
to you
will be thrilled
to just hear
your voice.

You really
should
call Home
more often.

(Photo by Marilia Castelli; UnSplash)

 

I Need To Ask Why

I need to ask
about your
Soul.

That Presence
of You
that transcends
the tissues and
synapses and
follicles.

That Presence
of You
that soars with
every winged thing
and races
cheetahs
and swims with
the finned ones,

that rattles
pine branches
with every
gust,

but knows
to be silent
when adoring
Van Gogh.

I need to ask
why
you let yourself
believe
your precious
Presence
should be
weighed
on a scale
where the
counterbalance
is a pile of
dank stones
called
Productivity.

It’s as if
you refused
a slice of fresh
blackberry pie
because the silver
serving spoon
has not been
polished.

(Photo by Elise Bauer from
https://www.simplyrecipes.com/recipes/blackberry_pie/)

 

For Better or Worse

I think you
should
begin the
New Year
with a
wedding.

There is
Someone
you may have
been
overlooking
who is perfect
for you,

in spite of
your all too
frequent
opinion that
they’re not
good enough.

Trust me
when I say
that your
spouse,
if you’re already
married,
will be delighted
by the prospect
of a beautiful
bigamy.

Take those
vows,
you know
the ones
I’m talking about:

For better
or worse,
richer
or poorer,
in sickness
or in health.

And here’s
the thing:

You won’t be
parted by
death.

Have fun
with it.
Elope!
Exchange gifts,
go on a two-week
honeymoon.

Begin 2022
with a
wedding.

Marry
your own
gorgeous
Self.

(Photo by James Coleman; Unsplash)

 

Illumination

Sometimes I feel
like the word
Love
is too often
used with the
imprecision of a
commonplace,
like “what
shall we have
for lunch?”

Then I remember
I know precisely
what I mean
when I say
I love
Redbone doing
“Come and Get Your Love”
to open
Guardians of the Galaxy.

Which, in turn,
makes me
rejoice
when
illumination dawns
that we are
eternal Emissaries
of The Creator,
divine Volunteers,

sent out to
play
the extreme
sports, and
practice
the precise arts,
of Loving
All That Is.

Wait.
Does that
make us
Guardians of the Galaxy?

 

Blasphemy

A crooner –
I think it’s
Johnny Mathis –
is telling me
it’s a Holy Night,
that a Saviour
was born.

I have no
agenda to
persuade you,
I’m just
musing,
but

I wonder
what I’m being
saved from.

Question:
If that ray
of sunlight
piercing the
glass icicles
on your
Christmas tree
could speak,

and announced
to you that
it was
The Sun,

would that be
blasphemy?

If I were
to tell you
that you are
as divine as
that Child,

your Birth
a ray of sunlight
every bit
as holy,

would that be
a sacrilege?

I Am
beginning to
believe
that He came
to make a
Believer
out of
you.

(Photo by Phil Hearing; Unsplash)

 

Intervention

Love may be
the ultimate
anti-depressant.

I’m not talking
about filling
a prescription for
hearts and flowers
or a gemstone.

I’m thinking of
remembering
a time when,
for a moment,
you considered
writing “Finis”
across your
manuscript,
if you get
my drift.

But someone’s
artful intervention,
probably by
benevolent
unintention,

sent you back
to the page,
so to speak,
with a small
smile and
a dose of
ideas for a
few more
paragraphs.

Here’s where
the anti-depressant
kicks in:

Consider writing
your paragraphs,
if you know
what I mean,
as another’s
artful intervention.

(Photo by Gianfranco Grenar; Unsplash)

 

Movie Lovers

I have
this idea
for a book.
Or, maybe
this note
will do.

In the book
we all come
from
a place
we’ve all
forgotten,

to make
a movie,
each of us,
from a
screenplay
of our own
creation.

Drama Queens
and Steve McQueens,
recovering addicts
and repentant thieves.
Home run hitters
and street saints,
mothers and fathers,
sisters and brothers,
preachers and painters,
nurses and Nureyevs.

Each with a
wild and gorgeous
arc of
redemption.

Sequels and prequels.

We’re movie lovers.

I’ve heard
there’s a
filmfest
in that place
we’re from,

and your
movie
will be viewed
by an audience
who
adores you.

(Photo by Myke Simon; Unsplash)