YOUR VOICE

 

I heard that my friend recently lost his mother. His story was moving and inspired some prose. 

 

 

Along my path, we had parted our ways

We had squandered the time in distance and delays

On my journey, there was separation at times

Yet there was a pull to unify our separate minds

In my sojourn, the beginning could start with none other

But the bonds and the beauty of a son and a mother

In my dreams, I embrace the freedom of one choice

In my dreams, I'll always be able to hear your voice

The voice was kind and sweet, always wanting my best

The voice that could put this boy to the test

The voice that was soothing for a soul on the path

The voice echoing memories of a rich and deep past

The voice that mended the hearts and healed the sores

The voice that will, in eternity, always be yours

Time moved along, the call came yesterday

Rekindling the pain that we had parted ways

Reminding me of real connections that can truly stay

Even as I hear the news - last night you passed away

In waking hours, I continue the tasks, all in stride

Yet in dreams, I reach out to where you now reside

In my dreams, all distance dissolves and I see you smile

In my dreams, the love has been here all the while

In my dreams, I embrace the freedom of one choice

In my dreams, I'll always be able to hear your voice

Your voice

 

James Anthony Ellis can be found at www.LegacyProductions.org.

THROWING MY HAT IN THE RING

I know it might be sort of late in the election process, but I have decided to announce my candidacy for the President of the United States of America.

I believe by now - with all the ballots already in the mail - that I will have to do really well in the write-in section. Please see the blank area on that ballot somewhere on there somewhere. It will be under a listing of other names such as Donald, Joe and Kanye. 

Please know I don’t take my decision lightly. I have thought hard and long about this. Probably too long. I mean it’s less than a week away. Could I be any more last minute? 

But fear not! I have reviewed the metrics and the early polls and, well, who believes that crap anyway. I am NOWHERE on there. Not a blip. In fact you five people who are actually reading this - are the first to know about my decision. 

This will take a major - I mean MAJOR - grassroots movement to see me all the way through to victory on November 3! Ah shit that’s like 5 days. 

I decided to run on the Procrastinator Party ticket. Brand new. Just made it up. And just in time. Many of you could easily qualify as upstanding members, if you only heard about this earlier. 

And acted earlier. 

My campaign promises will be short and simple.
 

1. Removal of fluoride from all water supply.
2. GMO labeling on everything, even non-food items. 
   
3. Doors on all the boys bathrooms. (Oh wait that was a promise from 4th grade student council.)
4. Dismantling the unaccountable FBI, CIA and Federal Reserve.
   
5. Repealing the 16th amendment. People working hard for their earned wage should never have become a taxable event.
   
6. Term limits for all congress people. After 6 years they have to get a real job. Sign up for “Indeed” or get a LinkedIn account or something.
   
7. No law will be established wherein lawmakers don’t have to be the first in line to follow it.
   
8. Free Ben and Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk for all. The rest, people will have to earn in some way, shape or form.
   
9. No spying on ANY citizens ever.
   
10. The destruction of those big brother red light photo cameras at those busy intersections.
    
11. Police restored to a high place in society as respected protectors, without using them as revenue collectors for the state.
    
12. No more of those fancy high-class meals for elected elites, spending our money on those affairs. Pizza and side salads OK if and only if Little Caesars reinstates the 2 for 1 “pizza pizza” deals.
    
13. Shrink the government so small that its mascot becomes Daffy Duck the time he got shrunken down to the size of a pearl. And so small it carries only two jobs: 1. protect and preserve the Constitution of the United States and 2. ensure the people’s property and papers are protected ... from the government. 

For a running mate, I’m actually too embarrassed to ask anyone given the late notice. 

If anyone is interested please contact me.

But hurry. 

Prior to January 20.

Fingers crossed!!!

 

My Own Mandates

 

I’ve decided to just put it out there. Be transparent. Don’t be overly political or evasive, but rather just let everyone know what mandates (and executive orders) I would put upon you – I mean into place – once I become state governor, US president or the VP of my own home owners association.

 

Here goes, you have no choice:

 

1.  Must Reach Back

 

If some friend reaches out to you – via text, email or voicemail – you must return in kind such communication within 72 hours if you indeed received the message. This does not include group e-mails or marketing messages in mass, but only those directly sent to you with a friendly request for a return message. Since technology has made a reply take up to five seconds, there will be no excuses such as “I was too busy.” Come on. If someone reaches out to you directly, do the respectful thing. Don’t be an asshole.

 

2. Lead With Curiosity

 

When listening to someone speak, lead with the attitude of curiosity, in the desire to understand his or her side. You are no longer allowed to remain in your bubblehead listening only to the reverberating echo of your own past, your own thoughts, your own filter. Shut up and listen.

 

3. Honor Your Word

 

If you say you will do something, then do it. How simple is that? Some call it “integrity;” others call in “honor,” still others call it, “Bro – don’t fuck me up.” Make it a commitment. Make it your bond. Now, of course things will come up in life, yes. If for some reason you choose to “break” your word, you can still “honor” your word by making it up to the other person in some, way, shape or form. Mandated statement: “What can I do to make it up to you?” Breaking the mandate will have severe consequences. Heftier penalties for those who use the phrase “But I was going with my flow,” or using the strategy of spinning it around on the other person, saying he or she fell into “expectations.”

 

4. Courtesy Driving

 

This one is important. If you are driving up to a stoplight, and you don’t leave enough room for the person behind you to pass you on the right, you will face the consequence of some well-deserved beeps, dirty looks, and maybe some car “brights” flashed on you from behind.  And you will deserve it. Please be conscious of those around you and avoid this behavior. Really, I mean just stop it.

 

5. Vegetarianism For All

 

Starting now, whenever you read this, everyone must go vegetarian. I mean, have you been to a factory farm? A slaughter house? Me neither. And there is a reason for that. We would all be hurling for the entire next week. I know, I know. Protein, protein … you need your protein. Sorry, it’s a mandate. Figure it out. Though to be clear – this references vegetarianism only, not veganism. I GOTTA have my Starbucks Egg Bites!

 

6. Los Angeles Kings Fans

 

It will no longer be tolerated for hockey fans to root on any other team but the LA Kings.

Even though the Kings have sucked for the past three years. Those found with fan paraphernalia for other teams will have their possessions burned. This includes banners, jerseys, pennants, and those oversized foam fingers.

 

7. Constitution No More

 

No longer will we be following that flimsy piece of paper written by slave owners over 250 years ago. Also out will be: “natural law,” the Bill of Rights, the philosophy of brilliant minds such as John Locke, presumed innocence, due process, a free marketplace of ideas, the freedom of speech, law and order. You will have to follow the will of a few folks who know what is best for you.

 

People like me!

 

And yes, no worries, after this silly post … I’m going back to writing poetry about puppies.

 

 

THE STILL SMALL VOICE

 

(I went full-on Bruce circa 1973 when he thought he had to rhyme everything - remember: "Madman drummers bummers and Indians in the summer..." I tried to change it below, but it wouldn't let me. Here then, another plea for peace.)

 

Shaking in this quake as I lie awake

Everything at stake, yet it all just seems so fake

I try to breathe deep, so I can fall asleep

As beams in the attic creak, and stairways ascend too steep

Cries in the night, howling a burst of terror fright

Pleading for new sight, so that finally I can be all right

Time to be quiet and still, I'm offered an array of new choice

A deeper will, on this day ... a still small voice

 

A still small voice

 

Mortgages and bills, join broken dishes and spills

In the freak-out alarmist drills, a dreary prophecy fulfilled

A backache and headache crescendo into heartache

Stop the madness, stop the anger, stop the hate

Boisterous bickering in the head, all sanity has fled

I'd rather hear the music of the spheres instead

Moments to slow down, the subsiding of incessant noise

Reality found, heaven bound, heeding ... a still small voice

 

The still small voice

 

Faint like the baby's whisper sigh

The lilting serenity of a mother's lullaby

Recognizing the foibles, the folly and the play

Yet never losing sight of beauty along the way

The still small voice

Nudging gently, in guidance, pointing out a Divine plan

Judging not - any race, religion, woman or man

A soft breeze upon the face, always full of grace

Rushing not - but like a stream, moving a steady pace

The still small voice

 

Now seeing the majesty of the mountains, the clear blue sky

Perceiving the symmetry of the fountains, hummingbird wings as they fly

The mosaic of cause and effect, as above so below

The horizon ocean line perfect, the colors of the rainbow

The sunset and the sunrise, each time a new surprise

Transcending all man-made lies, as we all arise, arise, arise

Of life, what we make, take it higher, with the one and only choice

After the earthquake a fire ... and after the fire a still small voice

The still small voice

 

RUN FREE

 

My dog runs in her sleep.

 

Her little paws flipping up and down as she’s lying there. Eyes closed. Breathing deep.

 

She must be asleep.

 

And yet she runs.

 

It doesn’t appear to be a sprint but maybe a simple graceful jaunt. A jog. A trot.

 

And where could she be going? I wonder.

 

Could it be our neighborhood park next door? Could it be her going after a chew toy we threw down the hall? A run on the beach? She never seemed to like the water much.

 

Maybe she’s recalling the time when she’s ready for dinner and she jets to and fro between her momma and me hoping to get one of our attention. Barking loudly.

 

For it’s true besides the flipping paws, every once in awhile she’ll eek out this little muffled huff. High pitched. So faint. It’s actually sort of cute, but at the same time it’s somewhat sad.

 

She’s trying to communicate something to someone, and she’s also moving along in stride.

 

I will listen, I tell her.

 

Whatever your little high-pitched huff is trying to say I will see if I can decipher. Wherever you want to run to, I can run with you. The beach? The park? For a stuffed animal?

 

I will go along.

 

With you.

 

As we run. As we jaunt. As we attempt to get someone’s attention.

 

In our dreams. 

 

James Anthony Ellis is a writer living in San Diego, and can be reached at www.LegacyProductions.org.

 

 

I MISS THE SMELL OF JASMINE

Well now everything dies baby that's a fact
But maybe everything that dies someday comes back
Put your makeup on, fix your hair up pretty
And meet me tonight in Atlantic City
        - Bruce Springsteen

 

I miss the smell of jasmine. That lilting fragrance that used to meet me at the end of my porch as I left for the day, and faithfully greeted me as I returned home after some time away. The unmistakable scent from those lovely white mini-petals that bloomed at regular intervals, I think, whenever they wanted.

 

I had this plush row of jasmine shrubs that decorated one part of my white picket fence, atop of the porch, near the number of my home address. Often I wouldn't even notice whether the shrubs were in bloom or not, but there would be that fragrance. It would bypass my conscious mind, as I walked by, and yet it would linger on ... until it would register in me. That scent. That white vine. That beauty.

 

It would remain. For a time.

 

I miss the smell of jasmine.

 

For the days would come, when droughts thrashed Southern California greenery and scenery, and governors mandated that the public "kill your lawn" for the higher good, and the water sprinklers broke down, and my own preoccupations distracted me towards other needs. Yes, my focus was pulled away from the garden. Away from my care-taking responsibilities. Away from the jasmine that used to welcome me.

 

A negligent guardian, a sloppy steward, I failed.

 

I let it go.

 

Not just the jasmine. Not just the lawn, but the roses and the passion flowers and the vines.

 

I let it die.

 

And I am so sorry.

 

When I first considered purchasing the property, one of the main selling points was the magic of the flowers, trees, shrubs and landscape out front. I remember the friend who joined me in my home search, stopped me at one point when I wasn't sold on the house and exclaimed, "Look at the garden!"

 

Over the years, every once in awhile a different flower would appear out of nowhere. And it would be beautiful and wondrous and magical. Hummingbirds would congregate to partake in the nectar and the magic. Butterflies would visit for a time as they saw fit. And nature spirits, fairies and gnomes must have loved this playground, full of vibrant life.

 

I miss the smell of jasmine.

 

As the regret turns to grief, and then to tears, and then to heartfelt apologies, I find myself taking a new view on this garden. This morning I chose to meditate out on the patio rather than in my bedroom. I've taken to more regularly watering the plants and palms and even calling for some expert help in ensuring their health. I have planned for a date with the wife so we can share a meal out on the patio, perhaps with a tiki torch or two.

 

I have reminded myself that the original magic of that garden was actually planted by another, by a former tenant, and not by me or my wife. I have dedicated time now, every other day, in tending to this garden, in clearing away any weeds and overgrowth, so that soil will be made ready again ... for another sowing of a new seed. It can be a home for a magic that we ourselves can plant and watch grow.

 

Again.

 

I have missed the smell of jasmine.

 

And yet, after the loss and the letting go, there comes a new day. The sun will rise, as will the opportunities. And there can be a return ... to a garden evergreen, to an effervescent scent of beauty and to the lingering memories of magic that will live forever more. 

 

James Anthony Ellis is a writer living in San Diego, and can be reached at www.LegacyProductions.org.

 

 

 

LET'S BE LIKE THE BIRDS

The birds outside our front door gather routinely, when the coast is clear, when the time is right, and when the birdseed is scattered across the porch for them.
 
I don't do it every day, but I will a few times a week. I take three handfuls of seed and spread it out for them.

And that's when the action really picks up.

After awhile, the news gets around - word of beak - and soon there are up to a dozen beautiful birds enjoying a feast right before our eyes. They swoop in, get some grub, stay for a time, and then bolt away. Some of the birds also feed from the small birdhouse, but as that only serves as many as three at a time, the seating is limited. Still others will stay in waiting in the nearby tree on the far side of the garden, before they get their chance to swoop in.

It's a beautiful sight.

Let's be like the birds.

These birds must have some communication system that lets the other birds know about the feast aplenty here. How else would all these birds find their way to this locale at the right time?

I guess the initial "early bird" could do its own form of "smacking," loud enough for other fine feathered friends to hear. Or perhaps there is some hormone that is released when one of their own is chowing down. I like to believe that they all have some special chirping system that alerts the rest of the clan of the day's harvest.

Perhaps this is why when I see a lone bird picking away at this gigantic mound of birdseed, I never see him looking over his shoulder to guard his most recent find. (Granted their shoulders are so freaking small.) Not once have I noticed that the lone bird's chirps dissuade any other birds from finding this gold mine, as never has this chirp been translated as "Nothing to see here. Move along. It's all good." And finally, it must be pointed out that not one bird - not one - has been found to pocket seeds uneaten or bring his own Tupperware to gather up all this extra seed for himself, and himself only.

This is why I say we would be wise to look towards these birds.

Let us take what we need, and leave the rest.

Let us know there can be enough for all.

Let us put out the call to friends, family, countrywomen and countrymen, alerting them of the harvest available to everyone.

Let us remember the tune "Proud Mary" where "people on the river are happy to give."

Let us live in abundance and prosperity - not just so we get more and more, but so that we embrace a world where everyone's needs are met.

Let us be like the birds...
 

James Anthony Ellis is a writer living in San Diego, and can be reached at www.LegacyProductions.org.