I always thought my Dad didn't pay much attention to me, or talk to me. I realized that I was wrong when I started remembering a few things that my mind would allow me to recall. I didn't like my Dad growing up because I couldn't understand him. Many of my poems reflect the desire to connect with my Dad, the greatest man I have ever known.
Dear Dad
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Dedicated to Lonnie Robert Perry, Sr. 1927-1997
July 15, 2020
Dear Dad, I saw, but could not seeThe love I know you had for meI see you still when I close my eyesYour forehead smooth, calm in your eyesYour lips, they move, but I realizeI still can’t hear what you have insideYour silence, now, it draws me nearYour voice I truly want to hearI hope the words I hear are trueI hope I hear you say “love you”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dedicated to Lonnie Robert Perry, Sr. 1927-1997
One thing I have always relied on is my faith in God. Naturally, my second poem had everything to do with listening to the good voices in my head.
The songs
July 15, 2020
I hear the songs that angels singMy ears bring forth their beautiful ringThey ring of truth and trust and mightFull of strength and free of strifeTheir thoughts are so articulateTheir beauty like an amuletI hear them, but not with my earsAnd never hear them through my fearsI pray their voices remain clearSo I survive and get out of here~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Self discovery isn't complete without facing one's flaws. My flaws are many, and I realized they were interfering with my marriage. This poem was to help me realize why I act the way I do sometimes.
Too many straws
July 15, 2020
A camel is strong and can carry much weightUntil his essence can carry no moreHe will carry ten bales of hay as freightBut break his back with one straw moreI have turned a blind eye to ignorance and hateFor the entirety of my lifeBut after sixty years that have not been greatEvery incident causes strifeI notice my anger will not hesitateEspecially with my wifeMy changes to make will have to be greatEspecially with my wifeBecause only one way can I make my life greatBy finishing it with my wifeWho, as it turns out is the one true loveOf …… My …….. Life~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sarah and I are dedicated to helping homeless, homeless veterans, and the elderly that are forgotten by society and put in senior homes to wait for death. Our efforts to help the homeless in NC did not turn out as planned, but we still persevere.
If I have a gift
July 15, 2020
If I have a gift you’ve given meOh Lord, my God, please let me seeI see homeless children with no motherI try to help; they say I smotherI offer soft; they want only hardI open my doors; they prefer the back yardI’m willing to do whatever I canI try every day to make a new planI ask, dear Lord, direct my mindTo see the gift that I must find~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~As an ADHD sufferer all my life, I ask many questions all the time, then I answer them. These are just a sample of the many questions.
Am I, I am
July 16, 2020
Am I a man, am I a Clown?Am I the person falling down?Am I an artist, mason, troll?Am I the man that’s on the dole?Am I the soul that takes a beating?Do I fill the hole with the blood of the bleeding?Do I see the good, the bad, the dull?For me, I want to see it allI am the man to sacrifice in order to save a stranger’s lifeI am a man to extend a hand to lift your head and help you standI am a man that prays incessantly, to me it pays, it’s a necessityI’ll insert my body into trouble because I know I’m in a bubbleI will never be afraid to die, the Lord is waiting in the sky~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~We made many bold moves during this period. We sold our house, and everything we owned. I wanted to live in every state for a short period to find out if it would be a good place to relocate, Sarah did not want the same thing. As the poems progress you will see the ups and downs of that struggle put in poetry form. This one was a happy one.
I see her
July 16, 2020
I see her face most every ‘mornLike a rose without a thornI see her heart, so big and fullWhen happy, she bounces just like a ballI see her strength as it grows each dayI look into her eyes and honestly say“I love you more, dear, every day”~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I use the metaphor of a long hallway with doors on either side to describe how I store and recall memories. As I search my inner thoughts and wonder who I am, I liken it to walking down that hallway.
Who am me
July 17, 2020
I look inside, what don’t I see?It are not you, but who am me?I walk the hallways of my mindThe doors now open from behindThey close too quick, before I seethe secrets they reveal to meSome doors stay open, they I knowSome doors are shut, may they stay closedSome doors are dark and don’t appearSome doors have life, I draw them nearSome door events are wild and crazySome door events are Purple HazySome doors have people from the pastSome doors have folks I wish would passAll doors have one thing common, thoughI noticed while pacing to and froThe latches have a secret codeA code that only I can knowI knew the code when I was freeBut now I wonder, who am me?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I realize at 60-years-old I have learned a great deal of things. I also realize there are just as many things that I still have to learn. Here I took stock of that knowledge.
I know enough
July 17, 2020
I know enough to knowI don’t know enough to knowI know enough to seeNot what’s inside of meI know enough to tellThat I’m not yet in hellI know enough to thinkThe world is on the brinkI know enough to shareWith anyone who caresI know enough to ministerWhen others are quite sinisterI know enough to listenNot wait my turn to glistenI know enough to runWhen things stop being funI don’t know enough to knowExactly what I need to knowI know enough to seeInside of me I’m free~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This poem reflects the inner struggle to let go of things and try to move forward.
What do I see
July 19, 2020
I look inside, what do I seeA stranger looking back at meI want to know, I want to sayBut I am stifled every dayNot black and white, but only grayI try to hear my voices sayGood things, but only bad arrivesLike angry crows flying in my eyesI can’t see past their deep dark liesI guess I’ll have to compromise~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~This was the fourth of ten poems for this day. This is a poem about searching within and remembering good things strangers say and do.
What will I find
July 19, 2020
What will I find, what will I seeWhen I talk to the you inside of me?What keys have I lost that I just set down?What keys have I missed by wearing a frown?I want to progress, I want to learn moreI desperately want to see what’s behind every doorI hope that I see what is inside of meI want to see more, but not from the floorI found out from Zack, who got up off his backThat my calling is true, and it’s not even newSo I pray, and I say, help me, Lord, to stayTrue to myself, true to my missionMay I do your will without any omissionI will stay true to my calling and not allow any fallingTo keep me on the ground while you, Lord, are around~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We lived in hotels for a couple months, so my living room was an empty lobby shared with whoever was working third shift at the front desk. This night a 22-year-old young lady, who shared the same first name as my oldest grand-daughter, showed an interest in my art. This young lady changed my perspective about my new-found abilities.
Is this a poem
July 19, 2020
Is this a poem?I don’t really gnomeI feel like I’m homeBut I’m not really grownWhat is art to meis not art to othersSo why do I fretwhy do I bother?I do what I dofor me and not youSo why do I carewhen I get a blank stareThat fact is still unknownBut this, in fact, is a poem~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I noticed through my travels that the most serene people share a common perception of themselves. When we realize how insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things, and realize we are not nearly as important to others as we believe, an uncommon peace settles in. This simple truth, different perspective, alludes most people I meet, unfortunately.
Travelers
July 19, 2020
We all are travelersFrom outer spaceThe key is in the poemAshes to ashes, dust to dustThe dirt is really homeFrom dust we startAnd dust we’ll beWhen the spirit movesIn and out of meWe think we’re lessCause much distressBut cosmic dust are we~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I visited my elderly cousin in Fortuna California this year and she revealed a truth to me I did not know. As I told her about my inner voices, she revealed a common held belief that we have three distinct personalities in our heads. We have the parent telling us what to do, the child who is insecure and afraid, and the adult that is there to comfort the other two.
My child
July 19, 2020
Dear Lord, help me seeThe wounded child inside of meTell that childlet him knowI got it nowSo let it goBy the end of the day I was pretty medicated. I place a lot of emphasis on eyes and eye colors and I drew a weird picture of an eyball inside of the iris of another eyeball. I called the inner eye my MEYE.
Oh me, oh meye
July 19, 2020
Oh me, oh myWhat is this in my eye?Oh you, oh meyeDoes this pain make you suffer?Oh my, oh meI just started to seeOh meye, oh youI wish you could see tooOh me, oh meyeIt is you in my eyeOh me, oh youI see me in yours tooDear Lord aboveI ask for your loveAnd deliver to meA new familyA family to accept me for who I amNot a family in which I will be damnedA family with love for the Lord up aboveA family to pray and cloak me in their love~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sometime during the day I discovered an answer to overunification in outer space. In other words, I figured out how to generate an unlimited supply of electricity in outer space, which would be another piece in the puzzle of Elon Musk's goal of populating Mars. I wrote this poem to remind me how to do it, in case I forget. The title is derived from a childhood dream Albert Einstein said lead him to the theory E=Mc2
Riding on a light beam
July 19, 2020
Spin on a waveIn zero gravityIn a vacuumWith a pushThere will beNothing to stopThe centrifugal spinAround in frontAround in backCopper in betweenTo beyond and back~~~~~~~~~~~~I am a fixer, have been all my life. My dad was also a fixer, and a dang good one. This poem describes the conflict I go through when someone prefers the ugly choices in life rather than the beauty in front of them. I never understood why people make that choice, even though I've done it myself.
Where are you
July 20, 2020
Where are you comfortable,On a feather bed?Why are you more comfortableOn the hard concrete instead?Where is the comfort zone,Inside of your head?Where can I take you next?Tell me somewhere you won’t dreadWhy are you so comfortableLiving in your head instead?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sarah and I stayed in Loveland Colorado for a night and decided to take a dip in the outdoor hot tub and watch the sun set over the snow capped mountains. Another couple joined us and the conversation ended up talking about being "a friend of Bill's."
A friend of Bills
July 23, 2020
I have taken drugs, I have taken pillsBut I have never been a friend of BillsOpioids, acid, speed, cocaine,All of these drugs have been in my brainAlong with the demons, they drive me insaneUntil the days that I realize I can get off of this trainI can do it alone, I don’t need any help downAnd even if I did, it has never been aroundSo I stand, strong and true, like a real man must doAnd I’ll never be blue, as long as I can help you~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~As we headed back east we passed an interesting old town nestled in the Rocky Mountains. The architecture of an old cathedral compelled us to stop there for breakfast. Our waitress, Amber, had a tattoo on the inside of her wrist that read, "I have seen the future, and I am alive." A brief conversation lead me to write this poem for her and give her a copy. I pray this poem inspired her.
For Amber
July 24, 2020
When we want to feel upWe make ourselves feel downWhen we want to show a smileIt comes out as a frownI know there’s a forceIn the universe for meNow I found out prayingTo it will set my mind freeI know that the bad I feelIs never really meSo I will pray every dayAnd my mind will listen to me ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I have seen the futureAnd Amber is flourishing~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~We stayed the night in Goodland Kansas. I noticed the plates on the van were Vermont plates that said "Vacationland." Reading this poem as it is meant, you need to use a southern drawl to get the feeling of it.
Life is
July 25, 2020
Life is good in GoodlandLife is great with my friendLife’s a vacation in vacationlandLife’s a staycation with my friendThe day’s always great with my friendI stay up late with my friendI truly do love my best friendA true friend to the endThat’s my friend~~~~~~~~~~I look for inspiration every day, and I try to help whoever the Lord puts in my path. By praying every day to be used as an open vessel to do good and spread smiles, I am blessed with happiness and a sense of accomplishment. I started writing these prayers to inspire others.
Good or bad
August 1, 2020
How many people say to you each day“You have been like an angel sent my way”It is not a hard thing to get people to sayAnd it is even easier if, like this, you prayDear Lord, I’m an open vessel for you todayPlease give me discernment, and take my fears awayHelp me minister to the homeless, the veterans, the fewHelp me remember, these people are youGive me the strength I need to do what is hardWhile I praise your name loudly, for you are my LordI will fight every day to count you as my friendI will pray every day and night till the end~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I found many folks on my travels that claimed to be empaths. As I talked to them and compared their stories to mine, I realized I may be an empath also. Realizing this made many confusing situations from my past make sense.
Empath
August 4, 2020
An empath are me; I can see you, all threeThe Id, the Ego, and the one that is meI see who you are, I know who I amYou see who I is, you know I’m a manThe voices I hear inside of my headAren’t the voices of those who have been long deadThe voices we hear inside of our headCome from this realm, but spirits insteadAnd just like the people we all see aroundThe good and the bad in our head makes the soundThe triggers in life make each louder, you seeBut listening to them is only truly up to meI hear the good, the bad, the confusedBut I’m not leaving my choice up to youThere is only one thing on which I can relyAnd it watches over the earth, the water, and the skyI get on my knees and I pray when I cryTo help me with the pain, help me to survive~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~I was staying alone in Manitou Springs Colorado when I had a wild night with many different people. Over the past few months I noticed one disturbing trend, the "crazy" people I met aren't very different from me.
I see me
August 4, 2020
I look at you, and I see meA disturbed person looking, but cannot seeI see you laugh, then cry, then scaredI see you angry, but you’re not thereWhen I’m alone, it’s you I seeSitting in my chair, but it’s really meI see you standing on corner, head drooped down with great despairI see you standing in my mirror, feeling like life just isn’t fairI see you speaking to your demons, disturbed and agitated, and just don’t careI see you and I see meExcept for the clothes, I do not seeA difference or any dichotomySo, am I crazy, or are you saneDo either of us know what’s in our brainWhat we know for sure, there is so much painSo, before our lives go all the way down this drainLet’s drop to our knees together and begin to prayWe will ask for guidance to keep our paths straightWe pray we do good, and don’t hesitateWe think doing these things will make afterlife greatBut in the here and now, it is our choice to make~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The extreme emotional swings are evident throughout the poetry this summer. This is an example of those extreme swings. Through all the emotional swings, I never left the end without hope.
I think
August 4, 2020
I think you’re great, you really suckYou’re such an ass, I wish you luckI love you so, I hate your gutsYou make me smile; you drive me nutsAnd after so many years of thisThis is the stuff I will not missYou left me, I never left youYou had me, I never had youI showed you the tops of fluffy cloudsYou crushed my heart, made me cry out loudBut when I view it from this sideMy perspective of you, I can’t hideThe pain I’m feeling deep insideNow remains unseen, and that makes me cryI thought that I taught you how to flyWhich is what you did, and that makes me cryWithout you, now there’s a new pain insideThat for the rest of my life I will not hideIf you cannot see me for who I amI guess I just do not give a damnI am in this world to help others seeAnd that’s what deep inside of meAnd so to this calling I will stay trueI wish it was your calling too~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~