A poem I wrote on March 6, 2009
Willy Wonka won’t open the gates for me
he won’t let me enter that hallowed center
of chocolate and all that is good.
I’ve only heard of the splendor no other chocolate vendor
could mimick , not that they would.
But I don’t have the golden ticket to enter through the gates.
Deemed undeserving at such an early age,
and I remember so clearly that day.
Sitting in the congregation, learning of his chocolate and love
and hearing for the first time who would partake
and hearing for the first time who would not.
Thinking “if only I could have known,
that I would not be invited to witness his thrown”
then I would have stopped believing in the good he can bring
would have stopped receiving all that the choir would sing
“Praises be his name”
I would have quit that game.
But no, now Willy Wonka won’t open his gates for me,
and let me enter that hallowed center
of chocolate and all that is good.
When time comes for me to present my golden ticket
I will empty my pockets and he will shut the gate,
and I’ll call out to my mother and father
past that chocolate thicket
and before they can hear me it will be too late..
Cause Willy Wonka won’t open the gates for me
he won’t let me enter that hallowed center
of chocolate and all that is god.
I followed your ashes into outer space.
Grace Potter and The Nocturnals “Stars”
Sometimes, prayer is simply the act
of filling a dark room with the littlest of light.
My definition of “god” has been rewritten and revised many times over in these past years, but my belief in prayer has remained the same—whether they are sent to a higher power, to nature, or to myself. Therefore, so long as I have eyes and lips to close and a heart to open, I will continue sending out my prayers into the universe. Let them be heard, or simply let them be.
Beyond Heaven
You probably, finally got to heaven,
but you probably just kept on going.
That’s the spirit.
When people recognize something good,
some noble quality in another human’s character,
they say to each other: “that’s the spirit.”
That spirit they refer to—is you.
You are the spirit of nobility,
of perseverance,
and such an inspiration.
If ever I’m so opportune as to go to heaven
I may opt to take that long journey,
but upon arrival,
I’ll just keep on going..
Because I know beyond heaven
is where you’ll be
and that’s where I’ll want to be, too.
What my paychecks feel like every payday.
Corey Gargano tries to warm cold morning hands atop Sherry. Joshua Tree, CA. Photo :: tim guffin
Someday.
When I tell people that I’m thinking about cutting my long hair short, they respond in disdain and ask me why. It’s as simple as this, really. Poignant statement.
Oh, and I’m selling off my record collection and most of my books (if not all). I love my literature and music, but since I already have a mind to speak and a voice to sing, I’m no longer in need them. Time to let these earthly possessions go.
You know what: I’m probably going to sell everything. I don’t need them anymore. (except my camera, of course)
