PRICE TAG

PRICE TAG

Don't look at the price tag,
As you wander through the world.
Don't you boast and don't you brag,
You thrifty boy, misguided girl.
Live each day like the glamorous,
The wanderer, the amorous,
The Gatsby and his bride.
Live life in the open,
Turn the world upon its side.

Don't walk if you can run,
Don't crawl if you can amble,
Don't iron your shirts, for better or worse,
Be aimless, free, and ramble.
Don't plant flowers that wither.
Brighten someone else's day,
With a bouquet made of the finest silk,
With your smile to light their way.

Don't lay up riches for yourself on earth,
That is not my message, nor my theory.
But know that you are of infinite worth,
And leap about 'til you are weary.
Eat dessert first often, citing chapter, quoting verse,
Make your way through this infinite day,
Dance 'til you drop and spill your purse,
Onto the floor goes your treasure,
Don't count your losses, just survey your wins,
With a dollop of luck for good measure.

Surprise the universe with a mighty high five,
For no one's getting out alive,
And death in the end will stake its claim,
No matter your riches, no matter your fame,
May as well just live by chance,
Spend your children's inheritance,
Though tongues will cluck and tails will wag,
And fools will speak of duty,
I'm telling you ignore the price tag,
Fill your life with truth and beauty.

You cannot take it with you when you go,
When you're buried deep 'neath the winter snow,
Share your riches while you still are living,
Still are breathing, still forgiving,
Still have your mind and your body intact,
It's not hard to do when you examine the facts,
Go shopping in the cosmic mall,
In the clear light of the day,
Before all your chins begin to sag,
Ignore the limits of the price tag,
Let the child in you come out to play.

Go window shopping, clotheshorse hopping,
'Til something makes you bray,
A motif of clouds or a burial shroud,
Or a bright floral bouquet.
Could be a house dress, could be an evening gown,
The looking's free, for you and me,
Just practice up and don't look down. 

If you've money and can afford to buy,
Do not ask wherefore or why,
Ignore the jealous raves and rants,
And splurge on those designer pants.
Say yes to the Rolex, yes to the Gucci bag,
If the cash is there, then clear the air,
And close your eyes to the price tag.
Treat yourself as a king or queen is all I really mean.
Indulge yourself with a happy dance,
An occasional extravagance.

Make light of illness and of strife,
As you go wandering through this life,
Live each day as your very last,
Don't spend it on a weight loss fast.
Go through the world like the glamorous,
The wanderer, the amorous,
The Gatsby and his bride,
And live life in the open,
Turn the world upon its side.

--Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

GOD IN HEAVEN

GOD IN HEAVEN

God in heaven be with me,
When at last my time is come.
When the words no longer issue,
From this uncooperative tongue.
When I must rely on pen and clipboard
To make my wishes known.
When I'm at my cold wit's end,
Kneeling before your throne.

God in heaven be with me.
Before your followers have their way.
Hurling me to hell's dark door
For daring to be gay.
For daring to be different,
For daring to speak my mind.
God in heaven be with me,
Both in and out of time.

God be with me when these cheeks turn sallow,
When all my miracles are gone,
And all my fields lay fallow, 
In the cold light of the dawn.
When all that's left to toast,
Is an empty frame at most.
When I have no more vaunted will or energy to roam,
God in heaven be with me, when I am most alone.

Guide me to the glorious green fields of your grace,
The shining torchlight of your face,
The rare and wondrous glory
Of your grandest, greatest story.

Into the rainbow splendor of your land,
God in heaven take my hand.
And ease the trembling of my fears,
The guilts I carried through the years,
Be they my imagined sins or be they true and real.
Let your balm of Gilead come to me and heal.

God in heaven send to me forgiveness and a song,
A mantra for the journey to follow me along.
Some hint, some glimpse, some bargaining chip,
To buttress up this sinking ship,
God in heaven accompany me on this my final trip.
To a land of expectation and a house of many rooms,
Help me as I stumble, drawing nearer to the tomb.

God in heaven, look down upon me,
When at last my time has come,
When all that's left of human speech,
Deserts me and lies out of reach,
Dangling on the tongue's crude precipice,
And I am but a drooling fool in a run down earthly edifice.
When all that's left is detritus, when all that's left is rocks and stone,
When I rely on pen and clipboard to make my wishes known.
When I am at my cold wit's end, lead me kindly home.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

SPIRITUAL

SPIRITUAL

I have looked under rocks for the spiritual,
I have listened for the hymns of the silent sod,

I have chased and dressed down bubbling brooks,
Traipsed the mountainous overlooks
For the soft, silent whispering voice of God.

I have danced with a few select men and women,
Philosophy and wisdom dripping from their tongues.
Forgiveness I have found there and offered up alms,
In the soft understanding warmth of palms.

I have gazed into the eyes of towering gallant trees,
With the notion that they could hear my pleas,
Looking for the spiritual in the steady force of root and bark.
I have wandered in a non-committal dark,
As the blood through my veins it courses,
Seeking good and evil, benign and malignant forces.

I have made a shaky peace with the physical,
Lost in the throes of this disease,
I have searched my own psychology,
Found immutable laws of my psyche.

I dig up the spiritual in breathtaking gardens,
Before my body returns to the ground,
Before my heart it freezes and hardens,
I have looked to the comfort of the spiritual,
To fill the voids and gaps in my determinism.

How many years slip away into dust,
How many dreams are lost in the fuss.
'Til God lifts his hand and says it's enough,
Who snuffs out the body in the shrill noise of the night,
Leads you to his kingdom and its blinding light.
Once and for all for your sins He has atoned,
And tells you at long last you can live alone,
A wanderer, a dreamer and a lover
In this world of unchecked mystery.
All of your regrets they slip away,
Through the black hole of your ancient history.

I have looked under rocks for the spiritual,
Listening for the hymns of the silent sod,
I have found the spiritual in a tiny corner of my mind,
At long last lifted and pulled out of time,
By the merciful arms of a gracious God.

Now I float on clouds and swim in the spiritual,
Awakening from my slumber, in a brand new abode,
Learning the language and cracking the code.
Rejoicing in the knowledge of who I was and who I'll always be,
Swimming with no lifeguard and drowning in the spiritual,
The deep sacred river that was always me.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2013
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED