BANANA BOAT

BANANA BOAT

Here in my banana boat, with all the other lunatics,
I float down my stream in a fitful dream,
Drunk on empty promises and hoping that they stick.
Having gambled with my fortune, burned my candle to the wick.

Here in my banana boat, nursing my broken pride,
A wobbly disabled replica on his final bumpy ride.
Giving up all I’ve known to unknown kings on their pompous thrones
And scared to ponder for too long what the bumpy future holds.
Here in my banana boat, I brace myself for the coming cold.

Here in my banana boat the only way out is through.
Some say it will be easy, and a move long overdue.
But am I quitting just my jobs or am I quitting life?
I take a gambler’s leap of faith into that dark night.

These are not easy seas to navigate, these wild tempestuous seas of fate.
I pray to whatever God will listen the questions that I ask,
Am I up to the storms that lie ahead, the monumental task?
Or will I float forever until I’m penniless and out of breath?
Lost without a compass on the desperate shore of death.
Or will I find the buried treasure, will I find the gold.
After it is all too late and my dreams are bought and sold.

And all that I can seem to do is play the songs that praise today.
For there’s really no tomorrow, you just take your leap of faith,
And hope the net is really there if only you believe.
I have no other magic tricks nor hocus pocus up my sleeve.

And God only knows what I’m doing here, still alive and kicking,
Hitching my wagon to a falling star and a clock that keeps on ticking.
But I’m sailing straight into the sunset on this strange banana boat,
Hoping I can wait it out and hoping I can stay afloat.
Drunk on empty promises and praying one will stick.
Having gambled with my meager fortune, burned my candle to the wick.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WIDE-EYED

WIDE=EYED

To have life come pry open my eyes
And pierce the contours of my ragged disguise,
And lead me so gently to the other side,
Where the saints lie in wait with their wisdom and their songs
To remind my soul of what it’s known all along.

To live with abandon in the desert, in the wilds,
To live and want for nothing, just as wide-eyed as a child.
Wide-eyed as the babe who wakes, where every day is fraught with joy
And hills are climbed and heights are scaled by the reckless boy.

To have life come with all its mischief and tickle my feet,
As I wander lost in the desolation of these city streets.
To lead me home with much finesse, like some cosmic GPS.
To reach inside and mend the tatters of a heart that has long since died.
To clear my tunnel vision, to leave me stunned and wide-eyed.

Here in the haze where nothing is clear, choking on our dust,
It’s easy to stay lost in space, blind to the joy that circles us.
To forget this life is an unwrapped gift, that every day is Christmas.
That it is ours to understand that we can live if we think we can,
Cradled in life’s loving arms as it gently draws us nigh,
Secure and wanting nothing, just as wide-eyed as a child.

Here in the monstrosity of man’s own bloated greed,
Each one a law unto himself and blind to the other’s need.
It’s easy to lose sight of these, of faith, of hope, of charity.
Yet in the end the three of these are all we need to set us free,
As we wander lost in the desert wilds,
Chained to our fear and ignorance, asleep without a smile.

To have life come pry open our eyes,
To make us strong and make us wise.
To live with sweet abandon, in the desert, in the wilds,
To hunger and to thirst no more, wide-eyed as a child.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CLEAR ON THROUGH ETERNITY

CLEAR ON THROUGH ETERNITY

Because you’ve done so much for me,
Opened my eyes and let them see.

And shone a light that set me free,
Clear on through eternity,

I hope to do the same for you,
To stay forever faithful, remain forever true.

It’s not my duty, my sweet love,
To remind you of your beauty.

But I’ll rise and do it anyway.
On the morning of each brand new day,

When sunrise streaks across the sky
And bids my sorrow swiftly fly.

O’er the dusky mountaintops,
Littered with the day’s spent teardrops.

It’s not my job, but I’ll make the vow,
To pause and do it anyhow,
And sing your praises loud and clear,
A clarion call from far to near.

It’s not my duty all the while,
To tell you how you make me smile,
How you charm with grace and style
And comfort me through life’s long mile.

It’s not my duty or my chore,
To tell you how I yearn for more.
More of your mystery and your charm,
The shelter of your loving arms.

But I’ll smile and do it anyway, with all I do and all I say.
Because you’ve done so much for me,
Opened my eyes and let me see,
And shone a light that set me free,
Clear on through eternity.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WAITING PATIENTLY

WAITING PATIENTLY

Waiting patiently for Death to call,
I turn and face this desolate wall,
And listen for his footfalls forlornly in the hall.

His wasted form ingratiates,
His presence it emaciates.
My body it has wasted like a puzzle picture pasted
Up against the backdrop of my life’s remains.

Waiting patiently for Death to call
With his trademark scythe and blood stains.

With his long black coat and staff
And his grim and haunting laugh.

Waiting patiently for Death to call,
For I have had my fill,
Of holding on long past my prime,
Of stealing from life’s till.

Of bargaining with God for one or two more days,
Of making promises I can’t keep to mend my evil ways.

Of putting up with scoundrels with their wagging wicked tongues,
Who leave life’s courtrooms still unscathed, both judge and jury hung.

And thankful for the wondrous gifts my life it has bestowed,
My friends that have gone with me down this long and winding road.
My lover and my partner, the crowning jewel of all my years.
I say goodbye with gratitude and a smattering of tears.

Waiting patiently on my suitor Death to make his final call,
I turn and face this desolate, lonely bedroom wall.
Listening for his footsteps so forlornly in the hall.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2010
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED