Faith is ego
True, deep, abiding
exclusionary faith
is your ego run amok
Blind faith is
egomaniacal, contrary
to belief , less about
submission, more
simple self-absorption
cum-righteousness
Believing is good.
Absolute certainty,
unfortunately,
is all about you
The ‘Beat Generation’
now needs a pacemaker;
they can still Howl – but
it’s mostly in discomfort
Hippies now take a drag,
teeter on artificial joints
Peace, love, rock-and-roll?
Viagra, naps, Metamucil
Culture they unleashed
now subjected to leash laws
yet I admire their restraint
in not pandering to regret
Her night-sultry voice
achieves what a closet of
negligees cannot
God, incarnate – 
chili con carne?
Does God eat
ethnic food?
The recipe on the
bag of beans brags
‘heavenly chili’
so naturally,
I question.
Light tumbles from her window
staining the grass below; elongated
rectangle of bright green in the night
a trap-door of illumination I want
to step on, fall through, down;
down into the dusty cellar
where she waits by
that light.
I said goodbye
to my share of women.
Some I loved
some of whom loved me.
once in a while
it was mutual.
some of them I left
with regrets,
sometimes I took
them with me because
they seemed
portable
.
I have left things unsaid
desires unmet
plans incomplete;
left with my head held high,
my tail between my legs,
others searching for answers
sometimes, just because,
other times, who knows.
I have said goodbye
to my share of women.
What they said to me
is probably better unspoken
Things
put behind you
deliberately
differ from the
things
you leave behind
and that are
never claimed
at life’s hat-check
what happens,
happens
whats done, done
over and out
see you later
where the hell
did you disappear to?
I’ve come back to visit
been quite some time
which is no specific,
I know
where I have been what
has transpired in my
absence
is not all that important
neither is the ‘why?’
I have returned here, to
this time, this place
to put pen to paper
thought to tangible
idea
thoughts left behind
revisited
idea tried, discarded,
recycled
old notebooks, yellowed
paper, frayed tablets
enlightenment elusive,
may yet be revealed
Old loves are a dime-
a-dozen; here’s a quarter
you can keep the change
Separating the wheat 
of bittersweet remembrance
from the chaff that was us
reaping now what was sown
then in blissfully ignorant soil
Ponderable polemics, poetic 