The Pecha Kucha poem


the new foundation

every moment that you are alive
is the only moment that matters.
the past is a glass house
and we throw stones
trying to shatter walls
that need to come down.

we are all architects of negativity –
brick by brick of bold thoughts
holding together
bodies bound by blood
but burned by love,
so we let bugs into our house.

and each infestation
is a manifestation
of our own insecurity
until the walls come down.

be aware of the model you are building.
allow enough room for God.
give Jesus the floor plan.
let Buddha have a spare key
so that he
may open up the blinds when you are blind
to your own light.

let your home be a haven for heaven
bit dig deep
if the walls need to come down.

people are insane,
living like zombies –
blindly walking, even stalking themselves,
staring at computer screens
that poison their pockets,
claiming the key to a connection
is really an infection of the mind.

we are born with the breath of rhythm,
yet we cut the chords of our connections
and we find ourselves
stuck at the intersection between
freedom and ego.

but which way will you go
when your walls come down?

I have been known to cling to clutter
and sit comfortable in uncomfortable chairs.
I have been known to obsess over obsessiveness.
I have been known to keep friendships
when they do nothing but harm.

what about you?

do you sound an alarm
when your foundation is on fire?
or do you fan the flames
long enough for five o’clock to roll around?

well this is not happy hour.

this is the time for time
to not be spent
counting down eight hours
behind the desk
of your own shadow.

this is the time to
free yourself from the mental cage
where all ages grow to know pain,
this is the time
to start a new revolution –
where love is the solution
to the troubles of the world,
with weapons of mass reconstruction,
rebuilding houses whose walls
need to come down.

even in
caged darkness,
we are

above the swift,
unflinching weight
of time,
our feet dangle
over the edge
like children
and we are
still learning
how to love.

before shadows
attempt to
erect demons
on the day,
we are breathing
and burning light.

even in
the sour exile
of death,
our skin is soft
and our souls
sweeten a memory.

even at this moment,
a baby is born
and knows
what it feels like
to be completely
and remarkably

people keep saying to live each day
like it’s your last,
but i say
live like it’s your first.

come out of your mind
like you came out of the womb
and open yourself
to the beauty of

be present in the presence.

the future is now
and you wrote the book.
but there is no catalog of worry,
no price plan for prayer,
no index for indecisiveness,
no glossy magazine for glory.

you are here.

you learn how to walk without worry,
when questions wash over you
like memories
before you wake up
to the answers
and realize
you were free all along –

free to just
be and
instead of
holding your breath
for death
to grab a hold
of your soul
and force you into another
world of unknowing.

people always say to live each day
like it’s your last.
why not live like it’s your first?

redefine what it means
to be beautiful,
drink wine for the first time,
grow old gracefully
without collecting dust
on the shelf of
your mind
and make a joyous sound
when your walls come down.