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They were speaking loudly.

Nothing could I hear.

Volumes are clear.

Chatter is around me,

Nothing could I hear.

Am I listening?

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother


One Week For Seven Days

The best trade I ever made,

great in value.

Did not I lose?

The best trade I ever made,

full of bounty.

Did not I gain?

One week is seven days, of variety.

One week is seven days,

past or yet to come.

One week is seven days,

one day after another.

Seven days are seven days,

all of my choosing.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

To go to Rome is little profit,

Endless Pain.

The Master that you seek in Rome,

You find at home,

Or seek in vain.

Anonymous Irish poet

 A Multitude of Reasons

 A multitude of reasons pass by my brow

as the path of illumination embraces,

and they all lead to sorrow.

The deed of destruction comes upon me,

disguised as many things, even love and

often the deed is passed, rarely cloaked.

 We beg thee a return to the past,

a new day that will bring forth what is yours,

what is yours and only yours to give.

 As the multitude of reasons pass my brow,

all were of good intention, passed with love,

all were of good intention but led to sorrow.

 We beg of thee a return to the past,

a new day to bring forth what is  yours,

and only yours to give.

 Forgiveness is what is asked.

 Copyright 2011 by Genebrother



I speak therefore I am speaking.

I hear, therefore I am hearing.

A gentle blush of air, thunder from above.

It is inconsequential,

Moments ago, long passed,

long passed is now.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother


I knew her when the seed was placed, I am part of her,

I knew her as I first breathed air, her touch was comfort.

She was with me as I was pure, she taught me, nurtured me,

I was sure to be, everlasting, as she was part of me.

Mother knew, just what to do and in my case, experience

was not lacking as mother had ten and we all knew her well,

when the seed was placed, we are part of her.

She was with us when we were pure, she taught us, nurtured us,

we were sure to be, everlasting, as she was, are we.

Our lives went forward and branched in different ways.

Our lives branched forward; we are all here to confess,

Mother knew, just what to do and say that was for our best.

Older now we bear witness, of many grand memories,

Mother knew, just what to say and do, what was for our best.

Some have not yet realized the best she gave was free,

as was given to her she passed in kind for all of us to have,

She gave what was free

As long as breath is within my being, hopefully full and a

reflection of her, I’ll always give witness everlasting

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother


Being conversant lacks creativity…

A mind that is conversant has little to say.

Not quite, what I would acknowledge as true,

some of us have little to do.

Being conversant is to offer knowledge,

Being conversant is to share.

I have nothing more to say.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

A Word

A word spoken,

Its journey not defined.

A word passed,

to hear and see.

Enjoyment, anger, direction

given… without fear.

For what I say is what I intended

what I intended is what I say.

Clearly given explicitly, not a doubt

of what my meaning would be.

I have no idea…

Why are you mad at me?

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

You are my brother – I am your son,
given and of the gene as one.

Time, distances endless are we,
spirit, mind, body, all three.

Brothers yet to be, what can I do for thee?

What weighs heavy on my path,
brothers of the past, what have you done to me?
As you were, you are now in me.

Strengths are many, weaknesses’ few,
paranoia fell by the way for me, its ugliness
born what is yet to be.

You are my brother, I am your son,
distance cannot keep us from being one,
brothers that were and yet to come.

Brothers gave what is strong,
eyes that see, glazed as they are,
eyes that view our thoughts, see me,
touch me, a vapor strength possessed.

Know our light as our light knows you,
peace misunderstood, the lightness views,
brothers fear the world, the sickness
embraced, I will not touch or taste.

Impressed not to care so the ugly sickness
must be there.

What we want for you is what we want for me,
brothers of the past, brothers now and yet to be,
peace is given, peace embraced, hate far removed,
brothers heed our words as torment is not for thee.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother


I went to my wardrobe, to dress my skin.

I went to my wardrobe, to wrap yet again.

Six linear feet, is there for me,

Reds and blues… colors flourish,

Solids and stripes… no need to nourish.

I was with my wardrobe; it was always variety.

It was full by those who love me.

I stare to select what is good for today,

I stare to select what will wrap yet again.

I find old faithful, tattered and thin

Oh yes I am quite comfortable with it next to my skin.

Copyright 2011 by Genebrother

David Alan Webb | Photo Art

finding amusement, beauty, and meaning, often in unlikely places

David Alan Webb | Photo Art

finding amusement, beauty, and meaning, often in unlikely places