love the moment

And we have suffered The hands of cruel masters We have chosen Their outline formed by shadows Our faces shape Their eyes, ears and mouth What they see What they know Walt Kelly drew Thus spake Pogo In a world of two dimension "We have met the enemy And he Is Us" dg 7/30/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

There is no messiah No mullah or Mahatma now to Guide us There is no John Wayne no Indiana Jones to Save the day at The plot's crescendo We are no stationary breed Affixed like barnacles or Coral polyps meekly gathered We are made by gods with anvils Who hammer us hard in fire and Bellow's blast There is no Bitch, moan or cry about What should have, what Could have what Would have been in a better world Every day is a decision Stand, lie down or Get out of the way In times like these There is no sorrow Only the cool anger The clanging echo that Hangs like death A sound more seen than heard The flash of steel known only to Eyes narrowed to slits Ready to fight Yet another day Resigned to decisions Those who live And those who never do Too much afraid To ever be alive dg 7/30/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

Rain today is Falling, falling The drops large and small Fall together ending in A pool of release The effort to hold Round and round, straight down Is relieved finally Wet and moist One particular drop, Billy Now knows the Exultation of Merging into the greater Whole of One stream running down Dirty, littered streets this Unified mass of hydropower is Determined to wash away the Human wreckage accumulated Missouri or Mississippi these movements Were unstoppable No dam or damn affront to their Intentions dared stand Oh, just now I find myself wishing for a Heavenly torrent of my direction To sweep through the Storm sewers and dry creek beds of Regret and failed dreams And once that gathered storm reaches its Maximum fury To roll through every statehouse, Capitol, and Investment Banker Boardroom And flood them with such force that Once the calm returns Once the waters recede Only virgin soil and Open skies remain To face the renewed hopes Of a tomorrow sun dg 7/30/11 Sent from my iPad h...

So What am I? A collection of connections Nerves, bones Muscles and tendons A tightly woven Warp and woof of Days and days Garbage cans emptied of Bad decisions and discarded dreams I am now become that drawer in your kitchen Where all those misfit but useful Collections are kept I am those things you cannot quite bring yourself to discard But in this moment You struggle to remember why exactly you placed me In your Kroger cart or Walmart bag I am potpourri, platypus A board game played only at Christmas and family reunions I am prophet and poet and Certified Public Accounter Licensed originally by god and No others we have seen My mission is No less mysterious than Mr. Phelps' And seemingly Known only to a screenwriter Long ago paid and Currently unavailable For comment or Revision dg 7/28/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

"Numbness usually arises from a lack of blood supply to an area or nerve damage. Most cases of numbness are not due to life-threatening disorders, but it does occur with stroke and tumors. Whereas numbness is a loss of sensation, paralysis involves a loss of movement, with or without the loss of sensation." I read this on the internet I am unsure if there is cause for concern And if so, which doctor to call? "lack of blood supply" implies a disorder of the heart "loss of sensation" would suggest a neurologist And even more confusing still  "loss of movement" might involve some sort of Physical therapy All of this information confuses almost to paralysis Which the article seems to say Is the final stage of the illness One wonders at the somewhat Obvious lack of reference to causality It seems a glaring omission  No references to debt ceilings No mention of unemployment No discussion at all Of what it all means The rather dispassionate discussion R...

I considered a walk in the park today But my lean soul protested It would not do - the lush greens set against the hazy morning sky Instead my foot drove me to the Public Square A central city courtyard surrounded By stone and brick and road Walkers are few and ponderers fewer still Flanked as I am by the homeless Recently aroused from their overnight watchings The shallow reflecting pool shimmers And faithfully reflects my thin veneer Monday's rough board has been Repeatedly run through the machine Slowly removing any rough rebel exterior Properly planed and polished I am ready for Saturday's stain Hoping it will highlight More of Sunday's hidden grain dg 7/16/11 Nashville, Tennessee Public Square Park (Hi, Gordon!) Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

These Saturday emotions are as heavy as the Nashville air that clings closely like pet hair on black pants I never know what to expect Nashville weather is as changeable as my own fickle heart Today I read of a friend's pain His suffering struggle to deal with a stalking sickness And then I, too, am haunted - it seems - by a persistent darkness Why some of us serve as canaries in the coal mine And often sing the sad songs of injustice I cannot say Did we sign a cosmic contract in a moment of pre-born insanity? Were we taught this torpor by the toils of a toddler or Trained by the imagined rejections of an adolescent? I wish I knew All I can do is honor this day with Whatever shreds of honesty remain from the week of Commerce and capitulations It is with the faith of a child that we persist, I suppose Like that oft told tale of Homiletic cornpone I just keep digging and digging Ignoring the obvious odor And like that trusting boy Equipped only with a shovel an...

Some days The darkness descends like snowfall And regardless of the forecast It stays as long as it likes My mother once brought home An old, mechanical calculator It's rows of buttons and moveable carriage A marvel of engineering It required endless gyrations To derive the simplest result 11x12 - you quickly know as 132 But that machine Outdated Spun and clicked excessively To obtain that same, obvious answer Some days My chest opened up Like an episode of House or Grey's Anatomy I remember the joyful boy Punching buttons Watching the spin and whir And I struggle to remember Was I the boy Or the machine dg 7/12/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

On a day like this When the work ahead looks no better Than the road behind When the heavy air presses down and Almost smothers the day On a day like this When the news is bleak And human heart - bleaker still Even in this The soft fronds of ferns and thistles Open to the morning They know the moist air is there to bathe them in water For thousands upon thousands of days The sun has risen and set And men have left the table To head towards the field There was no promise given them Other than their own sweat The dry dust of possibility From such hardened soil We all must scratch out our crop There is no guarantee There is only the knowledge With one foot after another A strong back and a willing hand A life is slowly built A world of wonder Like ancient pyramids Slowly rises To meet tomorrow's sun dg 7/11/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

Things I never knew or Only recently remembered Also included, are questions for which I have no answer deemed satisfactory Do babies dream? If so, of what? Do they dream of lazy days lying In warm, rhythmic waters? Of beaches in a mother's beloved belly? And do dogs pray? Just what are they thinking when They look at me so knowing? I wonder Why does buttered bread always fall Face down on the floor - and - Why is it - on the evening news Those children's faces The Amber Alerts or Worse yet - the sad stories of young lives ended Why is it - always - They smile Their faces sweet And their killers Either unknown or Old, worn and wicked And I ask Do babies pray? Do dogs dream? If so, why? dg 7/10/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

Jacob wrestled with God So says the scripture I find it instructive He did not box I remember sixth grade That scrawny boy I was Wrestled a boy much bigger A bully Afraid - I knew In a fair fight I was doomed My strategy was to get in close - and fast Avoid a fist fight and Execute a leg lock Squeeze hard and hold on Lately, God and I have been circling Like wary boxers we are Fancy footwork, lots of motion I have yet to land even one blow This is no fair fight and We both know it In this ring I am outnumbered He barely fights one While I always fight two On some days Staggered and stumbling Limping from the angel's touch I begin the calculation Of time remaining till this round's end And if I am desperate It is time for the bull's rush Charge in close And risk the grip A touch that can mean Either life Or death dg 7/9/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

In my younger years Life was lived within a template The days were pre-planned and Full School and church were where I lived Far more than any home Five days of school plus Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday nights At Wingate Church of Christ (And Sunday mornings, too!) Songs and Sermons told me what to think Preachers and teachers told me what to feel Guilt, Shame, Fear were acceptable Lust, want and wonder were not It is said criminals return to prison often Because the world of freedom is Overwhelming against the Predictability of incarceration Sometimes on Sundays Facing a whole day Open and Bare I understand them better Being briefly tempted To return to a prison Well lit And safe dg 7/10/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

They say the veil was rent Twain in two - top to bottom His final cry pierced even to hell And how thin it is I wonder That curtain between us Life & light Death & darkness I think such divisions hang of the thinnest cloth Every day I see angels and demons Both hopping the line Sometimes almost exchanging lines And stealing the other's thunder Yes, I, too shift My weight right to left Like some supposed prize fighter Past his prime with One too many shots to the head But even a has-been can Sometimes surprise and Stun you with an upper cut or Sharp jab awakened "Those of the Lord are Ever young, rising as eagles" Said the Prophet Old, but fire-eyed still Some days I see him On the corner near the house Old and black Muttering his wisdom to Feral cats and strays The smartest stop and listen Knowing even crazy is wise If you know how to hear In that other world Behind hidden mirrors and Bookcases with secret switches On rainy days...

Flying at 10,000 feet On my way to Tampa where I've not been I am reminded of 2004 Who I was - I see him Faint - a gauzy outline A memory like fog I see through the airplane's window Those vapors hug the hills and valley Unable to rise and join Their cumulo-nimbus brethren Comfortably earthbound We both await the coming bright With a certain trepidation because The sun unfiltered is fearsome To night dwellers and storm crawlers The man that was seems a ghost A specter of the dead So far away now only a memory Who I was Who I am Who I will become All wispy and faint Blowing on tomorrow's wind Ready to find a tree or valley To sleep Perchance to dream dg 7/2/11 Sent from my iPad http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/