A Blinking of the Eyes

Do not apologize for your good actions.
Simply be the hope you want to find in others.
For in being it to others,
You help them find what they are looking for.
When they see that someone will help
Suddenly, their perspective will change
And you’ll wake up to a different world
You live in.

Destitution does not have to be the norm.
Instead, it can be pursued into the dark
And banished
Forbidden to return to it earlier place
Of occupancy
In your heart.

Death will reign for only a moment
And the passing from one place to the other
Will seem as a blinking of the eyes.
Awakening in fields of yellow,
The glowing will not cease
When you pass from this dream
Into your wakefulness.

Spirit beings having human experiences –
Created in the thought of heaven
Yet put in the ideas of earth.
Placed in places of passing
To trespass on our own souls
For a moment
Before seeing what lies before us,
In us,
And around.

They cause us to see not
What we were meant to see,
But what we chose to be
In the heat of the moment
And the loss of consciousness of our actions
That would prove out to be fatal,
If we did not correct course
And utterly abandon the hopelessness
We had so assuredly latched on to.
There is a way –
Ask for it –
It will appear.

Books by Marty


Stooped Catapults

Oh, but on the stoops of lives
The catapults sit
Ready to pounce
And cast away ideas
That first drove them to swinging their arms,
Flailing in the wind,
Casting to the clouds all that was before them.

Ideas are forced onto a road
That is dreamt into nothingness,
Pushed to extinction
By virtue of the place it has held
In the minds of society.

The stoops exist
As did the road
But they, too,
Become a blur
As they join the thoughts
That were cast high in the sky
And tossed away from the creators of the thoughts,
Lost somewhere between
Command of “Pull!”
And the innocent wisping of the rope
As it dangles from the top part
Looking back down on the stoop
Where its wooden parent sits.

Books by Marty