This poem is dedicated to the people of Zimbabwe and Stick rock gun blade (The Struggle for Zimbabwe)

others around the world who have been threatened, hurt

or killed in the struggle to be free from oppression and
dictatorship. May their sacrifice not be forgotten. This
poem was inspired after reading a book titled The Fear
by Peter Godwin.
The Struggle for Zimbabwe
Stick
Stick moves quickly to face.
No sound as bones crush.
Bruises dont show as well on dark skin.
Snapping of stick fetches a larger one.
How many repetitions to the face to break the spirit?

A long tear drop falls, Rock

For the country of Zimbabwe. Throwers have no resistance.
Small sound when the mark is found.
Let my prayers rise too, Its hard to defend with 20 rocks whizzing at you.
Into the smoky air. Hold still. I have a big rock to crush your hand.
So far away by body, You will never hold that banner again.
Yet close to eternal spirit that cannot die. How many rocks does it take to crush the spirit?

Oppression. The oppressive regime. Gun

Many have never known the other side. Boom. One falls over.
Violence beyond measure. Boom. Another body falls.
Destruction of a person, physically, mentally. He had a wife and four children.
When much else is ripped away, The gun is strong.
A kernel of spirit holds fast. Makes bodies fall over. Not move.
The light of a nation that will not be cut out, Spirit is stronger.
Burned away, beaten to bits, run out of town, The spirit of the people cannot be silenced by a gun.
Or shot dead.
Blade
This too shall pass. Cutting deep to sharp whiteness of bone,
Many shudder in its wake. Blade is dull and rips the flesh.
How long must we wait? Blood flows out of the body,
What will turn the tide? Splashing on the ground.
What cannot be seen: Red puddle spreads like the venom
A rhythm of hope surges underneath, And violence spreading again and again through
Zimbabwe has already found peace, The body of Zimbabwe.
But it will not be under How many gashes of flesh does it take to break the
The stick, rock, gun, or blade. spirit?

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Break the spirit (The Struggle for Zimbabwe) 9/11 Tribute
For Mark Fogel
Much blood and tears spilled,
Bullets sprayed, Come to my party,
Prayers rise. Were exchanging gifts.
Mind and body hurting,
Spirit will not break.
Many friends present.
The dance is strong. Your physical box has been closed.
Song washes for as long as it takes. Open your spirit box,
This is our land, our heart. What do you see?
The heart of Zimbabwe beats with a never ending Move with the peacefulness of the clouds.
Song and prayer of hope. The downward brook rushing,
A hope that rises as hands and voices raise high With quick wit of the cheetahs sprint.
Looking toward tomorrow and a new beginning. The over and over cycle of the sun and moon,
And know that your family, your friends,
A long tear drop falls for the country of Zimbabwe. Will remember your face, your smile,
I too will add my prayer. Your embrace,
Matt Crichton
Whenever the senses touch these things.
08/11/11 You are loved, you are missed, be free.
Close your eyes, feel the love.

Matt Crichton
8/28/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Be Silent. Consume. Die
I have a t-shirt that says:
Be silent.
Consume.
Die.
Were all supposed to bend,
Over and take it gracefully.
Well I have a different idea,
And it begins with the loud ones.
The ones who speak their mind.
Who find everyday creation,
And have the courage to spark their,
Lives with acts that dreams are made of.
Thank you for being you,
And not believing everything,
You see on a T-shirt.
Matt Crichton
8/28/06
PoemsMRC
Bikers Bliss
Flying over a rocky path.
Actually, it was a service road,
Wide enough for 3 single tracks.
My hands stutter over small rocks.
Unlike large rocks the size of heads
Most of which I walked over.
I [only] crashed twice,
And renewed my commitment to speeding
Through the green corridor,
Catching wisps of branches in my face.
Peacefulness comes as speed causes float.
Dried mud cracks as smile widens.
One tip: keep your eyes open.
Matt Crichton
9/4/06
PoemsMRC
Bouncy Notes Breath and the Shore (a visualization)

Everybody makes noise sometimes. All the business,

Rushing, rushing, here and there.
Are you patient enough to allow, Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax.
Blossoming of the spirit? There is only breath, and sound of the shore.

Flowing of music, Were going on a journey.

Opening of eyes. To the sea shorevast expanse of blue openness.
Breathe the salty air deeply into your lungs.
Feel the cool sand squish between your toes.
High pitched squeaks, It feels nice to be out of your shoes.
What color are your toe nails?
Shred my ears. Walking further, you see the seagulls,
Low bullfrog sounds, Calling to see if you have any food.
Foaming tide rushes to your ankles.
Reverberate deep in my skull, Its coolness zaps your mind awake.
Rattle gray matter. You feel the bag in your hand,
Some objects dangling by your side.
What really matters, A few carefully chosen rocks,
Wrapped with pieces of paper.
Is that delicate process of unfoldment. Each one is held together by rubber bands.
Do you encourage? You remember the snap of the rubber bands against the paper as you attached
them.
Do you celebrate?
Where are your rituals, The papers have your three most pressing worries:
Feelings and emotions you will release,
Acknowledging unfoldment into light? From your mind and heart,
Into the wild crashing surf.
Whats on your paper?
We travel this path together. Guilt? Anger? Doubt? Money? Relationships?
How did I help, See them now on the paper.
Remember how you wrote each word or phrase,
Music making this day? What color ink and paper did you use?
Step to the beat. Breathe inmirror the oceans breath.
Step into light. Throw the first rock,
But dont step alone. See the jet of water that shoots in the air,
Instantly vanished.
All of us bounce, Throw the second one.
In one way or another. Notice the arc the rock makes in the air.
Look at the last rock with paper.
Notice how it looks,
Matt Crichton How it feels.
Give it a good toss out into the crashing waves.
10/17/06 Breathe deeply the salty sea air again and notice how you feel.
The ocean swallows worries and tells no one.

What happens next?

Only you know.
As you are ready, open your eyes.

Matt Crichton
10/15/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
[burning appropriately] Come Sit With Me

My god, what have I done? Come sit with me,

Running from love again. And we shall see.
What else in new? See what you ask?
We shall see a way to be,
Why must I cause others to burn, That go go go.
Because I have burned? Faster faster faster,
She will never find another like me, Is not always the answer.
I am unique!
There is another way,
Do I make her burn, But it wont scream at you,
Because I have burned? Like so many others.
My light shines when fear of, You must listen,
Success has been defeated. In stillness to hear the whisper:

Burn brightly little light. Of a thousand leaves falling to the ground.

The world needs you now. The flap of the flock high above.
I deserve this love. The lap of an ocean wave at your feet.
In the middle of the unknown.
We have a history.
So why do I keep pushing away? Where are you going,
What does she see in me? In this life so short?
Trust has always been difficult. You have many things to do.
Feeling that first moment of surrender, People to see.
Will this allow it all to open? Places to be.
Will I taste it this time around? Is stillness on that list?
How about just to be.
Matt Crichton
03/18/06 What a conceptI know its hard.
You must trythis is needed.
The time is now.
The now is short.
The list grows long.
Come sit with me.

Matt Crichton
07/18/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Dreaming of Beloved
Do you dream of finding,
Your beloved on the subway?
Sitting wide eyed across from you,
Heart centers facing each other.
To finally feel the other as yourself,
You smile and start to laugh.
A laugh that reverberates,
Through your body and back to yourself.
Screaming subway cars snap,
You back to reality.
Constant marching of subway lights,
Bent into smiles stretching,
From my face to yours.
Look into the eyes of your beloved.
She looks back, recognizing the same,
And smiles contently.
A thousand butterflies burst from your chest.
Every hair on your body stands tall,
Singing their joys to the world.
Your stop arrives.
You stand and walk,
Together to your next adventure.
Matt Crichton
10/18/06
PoemsMRC
Forest Across the River
I have stood on the banks edge,
Looking at the forest across the river.
Pointy green treetops growing skyward,
Keep watch on the grand Willamette coursing
below.
Who are you,
To tell me not to cry now?
The memories come rushing,
As I feel pieces of my heart still in,
Tree branches and mud puddles
Wedged in my helmet,
Splattered through my spokes.
The huff and puff going up Germantown hell,
Was worth the quick carving,
Down through hairpin turns.
To speed away from chasing,
Cars is quite an experience.
Trees speak truth when I think of these days.
Silence and stillness,
Unless natures creatures find,
Home in your limbs,
And wind rattles your insides.
Do you ride with a big chain ring,
Through your memories?
Matt Crichton
10/30/06
PoemsMRC
Gorge I-84
The way the land opens wide mouth
Bass swimming through.
Wind catches water as white caps,
Dot the ever changing surface.
The hills brushed shades of blue gray
Closer ones deeper,
Further ones a lighter hue.
The yellow dotted highway keeps us in line,
Winding along a barren brown,
Landscapegreen trees the exception.
Darkness settles and I wonder,
What it takes to capture this,
Beautiful woman before my eyes.
A hello-soft-smile-light-touch.
She smiles back.
Deep orange all around.
Matt Crichton
8/7/06
PoemsMRC
Golden Gooses Wild
I saw a gray haired gentleman
Walking down the hall today.
My mind and spirit shouted NO!
I do not want to be somewhere comfortable
Tucked away in a nothing closet.
I must run wild and free into new territory.
No comfort zones allowed at this time.
Burst me open, a brightly colored orange.
See all my juicy insides glistening,
Ripe for the next adventure.
Make as your golden goose,
Who flies in formation with the gaggle.
High above snowy mountain tops,
Among other fiery creatures.
Sweat beading off lips and nose,
Headed to the top of some imagination.
To a place where waters reflection,
Shows natures grace.
Matt Crichton
11/12/06
PoemsMRC
Grandpas Green Grass Just Be in the Sound

Little kids roll in it. Nothing to do.

Big cats cool off on it. Nothing to say.
Brown brown brown green brown. Just feel:
Is it an oasis? A mirage? Feel the vibration.
No silly, its the grass at grandpas house. A million years old.
Find your connection,
The way it feels on your bare feet. And you will build,
The way it looks on a hot sunny day. Something greater than yourself.
The talk of the town, As were all one,
Or at least the talk of the block. Just be in the sound.
The secret to keeping grass green?
Well, I guess itll just have to remain a secret! Matt Crichton
Dont fret. The green grass will always be there, 01/15/06
When you want to go roll in it.

Matt Crichton
8/7/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Kufundas Nature Poem In Poem: Middlesex Fells

I close my eyes and hear: Rocks and twisted root,

Chirping of the crickets, Rise from the ground to meet our step.
Song of the birds, Mostly brown to see,
Rumble of the thunder, With a few specks of green,
Hoot of the owl. Not given way to winter.
Soft breeze rustles the naked branches,
I take a deep breath and smell: Our steps are excited, just to be here.
Newly wetted air, Reaching the tower and looking out:
Fresh herbs stewing on the stove, Natures side: stillness deafens.
A plate of delicious food. People side: deafening noise.
Climbing the tower, we reach the top.
I run through the village and feel:
Earth beneath my feet, Framed by wood and stone,
Cool rain on my face, Imagine this picture:
Hot sticky sun burning my neck, Sun rays shine over the horizon.
Wet slobbery greetings of the dog, I hear, Wow! This is beautiful.
Wind touching my skin. A smoky landscape,
In the early spring eve,
I open my mind and see: Green triangles of tree tops,
New life springing from a small village, Butt up through the barren brown sea.
Called Kufunda. To feel the stillness of nature,
Hear the roar of civilization so close.
Matt Crichton No camera among us,
3/3/06 So let your eyes drink deeply.

Journeying back to cars,

Darkness falls as the sun dips below the tree line.
Natures sound comes alive,
Frogs and crickets in full bloom.

A day in the city,

A few steps in nature,
Thanks to mother nature for not precipitating!

Matt Crichton
4/14/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Sand dollar moon
Dedicated to Richard
It was light when I walked home last night.
I looked up and the sand dollar moon said Hello.
Hello I said, now fully aware of the
Majesty I was observing.
How many times have you filled,
A sand dollar since Ive opened my eyes?
Too many to count.
Im glad youre here again to shine,
Your silvery fullness one more time.
For what we all see is only as beautiful,
As our heart is open to seeing.
Go deeper in the silver light.
Let this living experience guide you.
This is why I exist?
To pay attention to the beauty around me?
But I was thinking more along the lines of,
Lighting your walk home.
As the sand dollar washes ashore,
Here too the sand dollar moon,
Is shining down through the cosmos,
To light the dark path we travel.
Matt Crichton
08/25/06
PoemsMRC
Spirit Spark
Yo. So lifes a bitch and then you die.
That doesnt mean you let the,
Bitter taste in your mind,
Penetrate everyones food.
Let the hug from a loved one absorb.
Deeper than the deepest blue sea
Your soul could imagine.
Let wind outside blow into dusty spirit crevices,
Maybe even spark a fire too.
Me too said the next person in Gods line.
On measuring table, spirit only a smolder,
Not the red orange crackle.
Who could have told you at this moment,
To lighten up?
And would believing really help your heart?
Live now.
Matt Crichton
09/21/06
PoemsMRC
Splintered Glass Stars of Johnson Brook Road

Splintered glass, Water washes debris away.

The kind that reveals,
A pattern so beautiful,
But does not break.
Subways passing lights,
Cause the clockwise reflections.
No straight lines here.
Slowing, a spider emerges.
Matt Crichton
02/14/06
Clean your mental plate,
So you can begin to drink deeply.
Calmness returns, some for the first time.
Go away from bright lights,
See natures shining stars.
Look closely, as if your mind could touch one.
The tapestry of stars pinpoint these constellations,
One is shooting just for you.
How do I explain this?
It doesnt always work that way.

Matt Crichton
09/17/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Tea
As I walk down the street sipping my tea,
My imagination runs with wild things again.
Lemon spice secrets make my hair tips tingle,
Sparkle fiery red, orange, and blue.
I sit, trusty mug in hand,
And witness the Light,
Reflecting in the window.
Its funny how a dogs ear can pickup,
Slightest soundthe sip from a cup,
And deep sigh of satisfaction,
As a body burns like the,
Campfire of a little boy.
Boiling water is ready.
Matt Crichton
11/02/06
PoemsMRC
There is a Love
There is a love whipping through the trees,
On a warm autumn afternoon.
While sipping my favorite iced tea.
There is a love that picks up your little,
Boy and whirls him about,
Laughing, screaming around and around.
There is a love when we are able to reach,
Out to help another human being,
On their path to love.
There is a love as pages and pages fall,
With just the words to express,
Those feelings bubbling inside you.
There is a love with pure energy
Traveling between the eyes,
Of you and your beloved,
There is a love seeing notes of the music,
Swirl through the room.
Maybe youll catch a few
Moments of this madness.
But dont bet on it.
For the presence of this ecstasy,
Doesnt come just because you ask.
Matt Crichton
10/09/06
PoemsMRC
Through My Window Wash I

Through my window: Pick a water droplet among the many.

Bright puffy white clouds, Watch your mind float gently,
Casually grazing from one sky to the other, Then violently, then gently, now its gone.
Then out of view. No more mindemptiness.

Through my window: Its not a bad thing.

Flashes large bright jagged wands of lightening.
My bones vibrate as,
Thunder followsstorming is near.
Through my window:
Late autumn dragon flies,
Bounce across my wall.
Streaming through spinning crystals,
Changing one color to many.
Through my window:
Im awakened by the city noises.
Jackhammer singing its not-so-gentle,
Wake up song.
A car starts, a door slams.
Oh, by the way,
There is no good or bad,
Where you are headed.
Heron steps lightly across the water.
Stillness is his key to catching dinner.
Make sure he doesnt snatch your mind.
To see through eyes of a Great Blue.
Emptiness expanding drop by drop
Matt Crichton
09/23/06

Through my window:
I see other eyes
Sad, depressed, tired, angry,
I wonder what is inside their window.

Can I look through your window?

Will you look through my window?

Matt Crichton
11/12/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Wash II
Drop by drop.
All of our drops,
Washed along the journey.
See the reflection of the wispy,
Clouds graze lazily by.
Brighter, then darker with the,
Coming and going of peek-a-boo sun.
Have you ever stayed long enough,
To absorb the overlay of natures sound?
Are you ready to begin?
Where are we going?
Take flight, but only for amazement.
You are needed here in the present on earth.
To be washed again.
Your hidden glitter will sparkle.
As the journey smoothes rough edges.
Matt Crichton
10/04/06
PoemsMRC
Water Laps at the Shore
A thousand miles from shore I see myself waving.
It seems so close, so off center.
The world spins and expects us,
To move in synch.
It doesnt always work that way.
Water shapes and reshapes my minds eye.
For just a moment the purpose seems clear.
The moment is brief as a sunspot,
Straight to my souls heart.
For this goes deeper than your,
Want of going without the Circle.
Myself sees that strange figure,
From afar and in an instant,
Eye connection forms.
Without wings to bring us as one,
Will we ever experience that fate again?
Water laps at the shore knowingly.
Matt Crichton
10/11/06
PoemsMRC
Water Rushing Between My Toes Wide Eyes

Lines on pottery flow into, Wide eyes of the north,

Clouds hung in the sky.
As I sit on the rock watching bats swoop,
I wonder if this is all my imagination.
Frogs with their high pitched croak,
Sun turning the sky a deep red-orange,
Moonlight splashes the rocks.
I know our hike tomorrow to the top of Susurumba,
Will lead over the waterfall first.
Water rushes between my toes.
Its a hot and sticky journey to the top.
View throws eyes far into the distance,
A bed of green and gray below.
I sit next to the water,
Watching it fall down, down.
Closing my eyes,
Sound washes through my mind.
Water rushing between my toes.
Why do you stare at me that way?
As if I could reach right into,
The blackness and pull,
All my dreams into reality.
Two round black moons,
Becoming narrow slits.
Dont squint your eyes at me.
That charade doesnt work.
The call of the wild,
Still shines through your body.
As the calm body of water glistens,
From that full black wide eyed moon.
Matt Crichton
9/14/06

Matt Crichton
3/10/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Zealands Rambling
Traveling in a new land far from home.
Away from my family and comforts Ive known.
A distinct awareness of freedom,
Hits me with the heaviness of a rock.
Red fox runs through the woods,
Jumping over every absurdity in his path.
Oh when will the world stop!
And open itself to starry eyes,
Disappearance as I fade into the blackness,
Following bushy tail down the path.
To see for miles and miles of imagination.
How I wish I could wash memory clean,
As the constant pouring of mountain water,
Rushes leaves down stream.
Stand sill and look up.
See the trees, reaching tall,
Swaying gently back and forth,
Happy you are among friends.
Look at each scraggly branch,
Each gently curved pine needle.
Clouds pass overhead.
Geese hurry more than white friends,
Their calls to reform formation.
Remind you of your own group.
Rejoin, and continue the journey,
In natures paradise.
Matt Crichton
11/13/06
PoemsMRC
Babbling, Gurgling, Screaming
I went for hike the other day,
Noticed every creek
Even the smallest trickle of water
Had a different voice, if I really listened.
Moving around larger boulders,
Some water rushes and screams,
Making big ear-filling sound.
Some water gurgles ever so slowly,
Creates good home for lush green moss.
Some water babbles at me,
Doesnt wait for a response.
Tiny trickle in other spots,
Almost drop by drop,
I listened carefullymaybe five or ten drops.
I put my fingers in all the creeks,
And found all water,
No matter what voice speakingicy cold.
Matt Crichton
6/25/06
PoemsMRC
Claritys Search Community of Seekers

Sometimes I find clarity of purpose, Some seek [their] next meal.

Drop by drop. Some seek eternal youth.
More often than not, Invisible hand wraps around all.
I wish it something I had not forgot.
Like ripples fading out into nothingness. A wise person once said,
Seek and ye shall find.
Symphony of sound, Just dont be afraid of what you uncover.
Moving in time,
Where time has no meaning. We all seek a light in one way or another?
Does it sing with me? Our flashlight, nightlight, or third eye sight.
Or scream at me? A light is but the speck on the ocean,
I close my eyes. Bobbing up and down amongst,
They are not needed where I am going. Other random ocean things.

Eternity of forever. Writing doesnt work this way.

Thats a long time! To write light before opening is struggle.
Do you dare ponder it? Mind body spiritall mooshed into one.
It may eat you, Anxiety cometh this way,
Oh, but it tastes so good! Are you ready to defend yourself?
Sometimes its hard to think that big.
Why cant I just be here now? Against the big scary love monster,
Who comes unannounced to devour,
Tranquility of peace, Quickly, or maybe enjoying the sweetness.
Not necessarily in that order. Dont let it leave though,
Have you felt it, For when it slips, everything falls.
As you move along on your journey?
Why cant people just buy peace Matt Crichton
Put it on their Mastercard. 9/10/06
Its not that priceless.
What can be the cost?

Matt Crichton
12/28/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Excitement and Delight
Not everybody will excite and delight,
As you might expect in a story book.
Adventures of excitement:
Coming to your home, almost live.
Stale by three days, or three years.
Whichever smells bad first.
My small mundane actions,
Matter to the world.
Even if I dont feel it.
Spinning Gods eyes in my room,
The crystals method is simple:
Colors on my hand rattle with vibrancy.
Trying to catch a bite-sized rainbow is ever frustrating.
And while flying through this wild ride called life,
Ask yourself to consider the fellow passenger,
Who may just actually be you, your self.
TV screams with violence,
With an occasional joke of truth,
Expertly mixed in.
Only watching for ten minutes,
I wonder which one is reality,
TV, or the real version.
Flowing
An ebbbut not water.
Its how my life feels.
Actions, thoughts.
The writingone expression of the moment.
One moment, there is only breath.
Another moment, body moves gracefully,
Through its postures.
Movements are the expression.
Another momentservice to the larger body.
I feel as one continuous experience,
Moment by moment.
Certain moments recorded, expressed.
Some more emotion than others,
All important in this journey.
Catch and release gently,
I didnt find this always easy though!
Ebb in. Flow out.
Inspiration in. Expression out.
Movement. Service. Inspiration.

Action is fast furious,

Matt Crichton
Do you dare close your eyes? 12/04/06
You might miss your one true love,
Flash by in that instant.

You must demonstrate your commitment,

By becoming a terrible thought.
Life isnt always about the good people.

I take my glasses off.

Giving too much clarity can cause headaches.
Good breaks into confusion as fog descends.
How many gods do you see?

Matt Crichton
10/5/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Green Light Shadow Growing Wild

Standing in a store, In a city of tall concrete structures,

Though not really there. And fast moving vehicles,
Mind and spirit are with the departed. I dream of growing wild.

A thousand tear drops, Allowing my imagination to act as,

For a thousand memories of love.
Not so random acts of hatred,
Many ask How come?
For the answer is not to be known today.
Ever?
A picture is worth a thousand words, and more.
I want to tear it out and make it disappear.
Never happened, never will again.
To walk in the green light shadow,
Is to know sadness.
Matt Crichton
08/23/06
Branches tall, and free.
Meandering any which way.
Growing deep down into the soil,
Up into the deep blue open sky.
My soul is the rushing stream,
Down, down to the final destination,
Taking a sort of predetermined path,
Having much fun within confines.
Babbling, gurgling, splashing around.
My spirit soars as the bird,
Floating gracefully over the landscape.
Flying here, there, no where at all.
Its easy when my path seems boundless.

Sounds of reality bring me back.

Will my wild thing wither?

Matt Crichton
2/6/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Rebroken Screw the Perfect Life

Every day Im rebroken. Screw the perfect life.

Just when I think Ive gotten it together,
Memory comes back to remind me,
Im not immortal.
If to be human means rebroken,
Im the most human of all today.
How is it in this moment?
What needs rebreaking?
What part of me needs to remember?
Memory comes and goes.
Is it really memory,
Or just that joker of my imagination,
Being creative with the stories people tell me?
Glass is cracked.
Passing light reflects sadness.
Deepening like the hues of a falling sun
Pink, orange, red, black.
Most of the time I dont have a choice.
It happens almost naturally,
As if this were a regular thing in my life.
But it feels too deeply.
Rebroken among the madness.
Give me the real life.
The raw,
The timid,
The burning private life.
The polite public life, ha ha ha, yeah right.
Life is more vibrant,
When you have been shown the bottom,
Then found wings of trampoline.
Oh you do not have to be good.
Life seems to be lost when you are good.
I mean the real raw life;
Not glamorous or picturesque.
The raw bite of reality,
Traded at will for the illusion of perfect.
But it hurts,
And it should, you dont live in perfection.
Your life is the real deal.
The only life you have.
Matt Crichton
12/26/06

Moments between remembering are many.

Some days are kind.

Matt Crichton
2/6/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Seagull and Sunset Space [in] Between

Seagull was flying through wide open sky, Space to slow down.
Space you allow,
When she caught sight of sun, Space in between,
Moving towards the horizon. What is this space?
Why are you sneaking away? Asked seagull.
Sun does not sneak. Im gliding, just as you glide. Between the doing,
Seagull doesnt glide, I sneak. Finds the stillness.
On the outside, where are you going?
How else would I find dinner? Where the inside stills.

Seagulls diving swoop, upward glide. Space between the breath,

Suns firey remnants left behind, When everything is slow motion.
Turning pink, red, orange. Do you know who you are,
In those moments?
Then the blackness of night sky,
Seagulls swoop now hidden. Space between buildings,
Where rain and snow and leaves fall.
I found a seagull feather, no longer needed. Where heat in not shared,
Reminded of silent swoop. Wind whistles through,
Two blank faces staring at each other.
Red leaf discovered same day as fall sneaks.
Silent seagull also swoops, Space between notes,
Measuring his way to the next delicious dish. When the silence is deafening.
Final space between last note and,
Remember the fire of my sunset. Symphony of hands piercing air with staccatos.
Casting red-orange shadows, Gray space between feeling,
On the faces of ones I love. Intellect tries to quash.
Ah, but love has much to teach.
Matt Crichton
9/9/06 Space between prayers,
Or is that really possible?
Breathe, move.
Do what you need to do,
To find your peace.

Matt Crichton
11/17/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Sun Magazine You Can Write

[Why do you read that magazine?] I want you to picture the most,
[So you can look all literary?] Intense experience of your life.
Do you feel it in the marrow,
No, it pulls me out, Of your bones? Good.
Of the hype, the glitter, Describe how it looks, how it feels,
Smooth and firm world. Close your eyes.
To a place where raw, One moment in time.
Necessity of life lives and breathes, From that feeling.
Sometimes screams and groans.
Not pretty and composed. Why, you ask?
Well didnt you hear?
A place deep inside me, Mystery loves company.
A place inside you. My mystery is just beginning.
Can you reach that deep? Will you find yours?
A heart center pulsates; eyeball captures light. Sharpen your pencil now.
[Sounds like some good story.]
[Mind if I take a look?] Matt Crichton
A place where dreams collide with reality, 10/01/06
Then wash away with the evening dishes.
A place where your body reads the words,
And respondsas we sayappropriately.
I thought you werent interested.

A place that sparks my imagination,

Makes me turn the page.
Even when I know that these words,
Written by someone else are my story.
Written in plain sight for all to see.

I could go on and on,

But then the wind would be gone.
Sound and the fury would be gone
And wed be back in bed with the hype.

Matt Crichton
9/21/06

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Bobbing Sunshine Closing My Eyes to Return to that Place

Walking past the wall in the cool afternoon,
Sunshine bobs up and down,
In synch with my footsteps.
I remember the bobbing of blue lobster buoy,
Up and down in spitting white caps.
Wind causes sand and water to spray.
The low trees drape branches,
Brown and bare,
Over glistening rushing water.
Light breeze sways ever so softly.
I wonder if the weight of green leaves,
In summer time pull branches to,
Touch the shimmering movement.

Caught in the current, As this is not a space,

Spraying orange sprites, For water in stillnesslook down stream.
With many stars watching, Unlocking my gaze I let,
Faces illuminated by bright orange fingers of fire, Branches and reflections blur together.
Until sand covers last white hot piece of wood. I dont want to forget,
As I walk away to my next adventure.
I appreciate peoples presence.
And hugs are good too! Matt Crichton
So I ask: 3/2/07
What makes you so awesome?
Speak up. I want to know.
It feels good to have a gathering place.
Thank you to the hosts.

The city calls to me.

Returning to the current,
I Remember our time and,
Snapshots in my minds eye:
The water, the sand, the bobbing sun.

Matt Crichton
4/8/07

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Exploring Big Apples belly
Exploring Big Apples belly from afar.
Light twinkles brightly.
Up close many realities,
Spread across the surface.
I sip a cup of Monkeys King,
And realize youve drifted into,
Your own tea drop far away.
A spot of whip cream on the tip of your nose.
Discovering your delicious landscape,
Will you allow me a taste?
Cherry blossoms fill our senses,
Dont let the water burn this away.
Many steps, many words, one experience,
With you as I worry about your pain.
My body swirls as it feels the possibility.
Does this mean your heart knock grows louder?
As this moves into memory, remember:
These moments imprinted in our bodies,
And know well do it again soon.
I miss you and think of you often.
Withdraw a smile from my bank at your
convenience!
Matt Crichton
02/19/07
PoemsMRC
Hurricane water (to uncover roots)
There is a spot I love, on the Charles River.
Water rushes by two low grown trees,
Trunks almost touch the white caps.
I stand on the path and let my vision blur.
Fast moving water cuts through stillness.
I wonder if far away fast moving water,
Still cuts through stillness of the trees,
Stillness of the neighborhoods,
Stillness of peoples minds.
The water I see has eaten dirt,
To uncover roots.
I wonder if the hurricane water uncovered,
Inconvenient truths in its path.
The water I see rushes, but stays within boundaries,
Finding all the nooks, cracks and crevices,
As water always does.
Does hurricane water stay within boundaries.
What cracks and nooks did it find?
The water I see is right in front of me.
I can only imagine the water far away.
The lives lost, the lives saved, the lives changed.
Stories and images give only a limited picture.
Water rushes past two trees.
Matt Crichton
01/25/07
PoemsMRC
Involved
Who knew one canvas purchased many years ago,
A mini version of larger involvement ,
Would turn into a house involved by many.
On display for heavy wallets,
In the market for space.
Blue jazz notes for two.
Trumpets shout as involvement grows deeper.
She said Be in the moment Falling all around,
As the raindrop beat a path to,
Wetness glistening on my two lips.
How was I supposed to know,
The involvement would end,
After last note faded into infinity.
Hot steam floats upward,
Giving visual cues to note streams,
From brassy silver valves.
She notices the random brown and white foam,
Forms scraggly tree encircled.
Green only in the minds eye.
All else is gray, brown, and dirty.
Unlike that colorful image of involvement,
Spied on the street in the middle of horns blaring,
Across the street from the water cascading,
Around the corner from conversations of,
The boys and last nights kiss.
In between eggs, coffee, and the lives,
Inspired by the artists love for their craft.
Matt Crichton
03/26/07
PoemsMRC
Rain Drops (tuned in)
I went to a concert last night,
Eight cellos performing.
Plucking strings as rain drops fell,
All around me.
This is a love sound for those in the fire.
Singing bows warn of coming storm.
Fingers bring the sweetness,
Hitting my naked face.
Some strike in synch.
Others fall to the beat of their own breath.
I listen intently trying to hear.
Side by side they sit,
Each in their own world.
Each as one mind.
How ironica falling rain drop can,
Be as uplifting to my spirit,
On fire in a storm never felt so warm.
My body stills, my mind calms,
To allow drops to splash deeper into the ocean.
For a drop is still a drop.
The performance is done,
Clapping hands descend.
Ill wait for the next note.
Matt Crichton
07/23/06
PoemsMRC
Saying Goodbye to the Mountains
Saying goodbye to the mountains,
Matchstick trees reveal landscapes barren.
Hard edges hidden by soft white.
Life hides under whirling drifts.
Water trickles towards spring.
Remembering the stillness,
Broken only by woodpecker and sparrow,
Calling to their loved ones.
I feel the cool bite,
Crisp air fills my lungs.
Clear sky brings the sparkle
Of stars twinkling into my eyes.
My mind stretches to absorb surrounding wonder.
Take one last look and touch each distant peak.
Until the next time
Matt Crichton
2/12/07
PoemsMRC
World is on Fire
The world is on fire.
Crackly yellow and orange breath,
Exhales to touch another.
Today I am not so lucky.
Rings through one ear,
Are not what they seem in the other.
Reworking the surface of the street
I walk down is much easier
Than reworking inner depths,
Of my soul I wander through.
Shouting in all directions,
Not really reaching any tangible reality.
Reaching further into the truing blackness,
I burst open with red, orange,
Paper pieces scattering about.
Matt Crichton
01/14/07
PoemsMRC
Your Voice I hear
Your voice I hear.
Technologically speaking,
Love does not answer this line.
I hope to stay connected.
No disconnect this night.
Silence falls into the abyss.
Ask me a question, get my best answer.
Remind me of times past:
Times to come.
I smile as the sun,
Leaps over the ocean.
One word: settling.
Is the life we lead,
Taking us where we desire?
To meet the right people?
To always know that this is our,
One and only life.
What shall we do with it?
Your voice comes over the phone.
Matt Crichton
02/12/07
PoemsMRC
One step at a time
A prayer for peace,
Such a big and sometimes overwhelming word.
A prayer for action.
Kind words to a stranger or loved one.
Each one a drop in the water.
Make it ripple/ boil.
The past bleeds through,
Pages of the calendar.
Eyes of the people,
Revealing , hiding desperate wants,
[desperate enough to cause]
Shedding tears of hope.
Winds of change blow
Red drops on the foundation
Built strong with intention
Change comes, hope takes shape
But one step at a time.
Matt Crichton
6/2/08
PoemsMRC
Remembering Grandpa How odd of God

Grandpa I do remember blackberries, How odd of God,

Memories so sweet and sharp. To bring that hilarious light here,
Many times I thought of confectionery, To my quick and cynical response.
Bud did not know the art. May the spirit disturb youindeed.
Touch of God. Touch my God.
Summer time was so much fun of course,
Yes indeed I do recall.
Take Holden home in my jar,
BBQing in the evening sun, To a place where faith grows deeper.
Chicken pieces and softball. Wider.
Wilder.
I remember grandpas pickup truck,
Grumbling loudly down the street. Matt Crichton
We always seemed so struck with luck, 8/14/10
Blue faithful invincible to defeat.

Grandpas humor did amaze us so,

We wondered at such talent.
Bottom of the barrel jokes did flow,
And the man was so very gallant.

Wall Street Journal, a daily event,

Read from cover to cover.
Willing to pinch a penny and a cent,
Many stories and tips to discover.

I remember grandpas stern words aplenty,

Would lead us to great wisdom.
Many times drilled in before age twenty,
Would save us from many a conundrum.

Grandpa I love you oh so much,

Memories never will be forgotten.
Hope that you give grandma strength,
All help needed to clean a den so rotten.

Matt Crichton
2/10/10

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
I met a lady Through the Eyes

I met a lady yesterday. Through the eyes of the fish,

Introduced herself as a nobody. Swimming through water cold and shimmery,
"Oh really? I asked. Nonsense. Soon to be served steaming on dinner dish.

Who are you to say? Through the eyes of the deer,

You are somebody. Raising her head at the noise,
Do you know how to cook a stew? Flicking tail to alert danger and fear.
Mend a wound?
Tie a shoe? Through the eyes of the eagle,
Build a house with a view? Soaring gracefully overhead.
You are somebody. Caught in ocean drafts while looking for next meal.

Do you know how to teach a class? Through the eyes of the mouse,
Scribble a Scooby Doo? Scurrying this way and that,
Do you create stained glass? Looking for food and a twig for his house.
Are a signer at mass?
You are somebody. Through the eyes of the snake.
Lazily basking in sinking afternoon sun.
Do you know how to make a car purr? Not a care for any motions sake.
Are you a leader of many?
Is it big animals you prefer? Through the eyes of the frog.
You are somebody. A chorus of ribbit ribbit ribbit.
Wide eyes awake as darkness covers the bog.
Can you hold a hand?
Give a hug? Through the eyes of the sea lion,
Do you play in a big band? Barking commands to protect his space.
You are somebody, in Gods eyes. Rolling his large body over and over to find a better
place.
Matt Crichton
8/13/10 Through the eyes of a little boy,
Spying white caps from car window.
Dreaming of becoming a big river pilot guiding
convoy.

Matt Crichton
4/23/10

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
How ironic that it's all a matter of perspective Find A High Place
Who's perspective do you have? God's or the
world's? Find a high place.
Eye sees far away.
Bigger is better Water, land, clouds, sky:
Most definitely, Opens another unseen eye.
If we're talking about our God print. Heart center opens.
Footprints are for sand and babies. Many memories.
God prints aren't measured by the, Hope lifted high.
Size of your rims or how many inches,
Your truck is jacked up. But, To see a distance,
By the size of your heart as, Brings reflection upon life.
Witnessed by God. Nobody else. Stop for a moment.
Really. Take pleasure in the view.
Come back tomorrow.
He knows all hearts. See God's show anew.
No use trying to hide.
If you allow the trust and love, Matt Crichton
To flood, 8/10/15
Your heart God will show,
Permanent and [mind blowing],
Freedom.

Seek ye first God print,

Only then can you rest,
Your feet in the sand and,
Know each foot print,
Made is safe in God's heart.
Go! Expand your God print.
Many are watching to hear,
To see and to taste.
Bigger is better. In God.
Hear(t_)

Matt Crichton
8/12/15

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Forest Light at Dusk Hands

The way approaching, Hands that mash, mix,

Dusk, dark silhouettes trees. Roll bread into shapes so sweet.
Craggily, scrawny, tall, silent, Hands that pull steaming dishes from oven's mouth.
Against blue deepening, Hands that cut, chop, and dice a sea of salad.
Deepening skies. Hands that prepare the place of eating so perfectly.
Many hands of God used to create this exquisite
Look how the light bends, meal.
Around birch trees.
Light shadow patterns on the ground Eyes savor the colors.
Light reflected through eyes, Nose teased by the aromas.
As travel fast we do. Taste buds saturate with flavors so vivid,
Patterns of light, Memories of joys and sorrows burst forth.
Bend around trees. Hearts soften, hands open.
Flying through space. Your hand in mine.
Let us go in service to our Beloved.
A cool wetness I smell. Time is short!
Trees sway around me, There is much work for these hands.
Almost a welcome stance.
Hello! We're glad you're here. Matt Crichton
Enjoy your stay. 9/14/15
Take your time.
As you frolic and play.

Matt Crichton
10/19/15

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
In the Breeze Prescription for Fear/Insecurity/Anxiousness/Worry

Stop for a moment. Go to the forest (preferably when raining).

Heart beat thump, thump, thump. Observe rain drops trickle down mossy branches.
Breath quickened. Light green tentacles wrapping and weaving like a
Inhale. Exhale. Large spider web.
As you catch your breath, Feel the air, cool and moist on skin.
See sunlight peeking through, Smell the trees in rain.
Tall standing,
Silently witnessing, Describe the smell, or better yet,
Long green branches swaying. Just close your eyes and inhale deeply.
In the breeze, Walk (or run) among giants.
Feel the aliveness. Forget about whatever it was that brought you here.
Take another deep breath.
Matt Crichton
11/08/15 See the frogs, the birds, the newts,
Eagles, the mushrooms, the bunnies.
As they crawl, slither, slide, scamper, float, fly,
flitter.
Touch a branch. Give it a pull.
More rain drops.
Go to the forest.
Now.

Matt Crichton
11/12/15

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Sun Kissed Dew drop Sparkles Hallelujah / Portland Cello Project
For Dolores and Brigido
12 cellos.
Sun: shining bright as two hearts One voice.
Stand together. Hallelujah.
Yes hallelujah.
Kissed: by your beloved causes heart to flutter.
Volume and modulation,
Dew: settles on landscape Sync in and out of the sweet spot.
As a return to the If heart is open, tears flow.
Mundane
2 now 1 forge ahead. Quiet mind.
Ears wide open.
Drop: fall into his arms, Listen to the sound.
Wrapping you tight. The soul sings along.

Sparkles: flair as you look Matt Crichton

Into her eyes, 10/15/16
Reflecting the love
You feel.

Hearts: joined by a
Promise encircled
By two rings.
Together forever.

Matt Crichton
6/28/15

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
Opening the Box
I look at the water.
Ebbing, flowing, shimmering in weak sunlight.
Filtering through puffy threatening clouds.
Patterns of dark, light, no patterns
At all reflected off water's surface.
I want to return nowto mother Earth.
Return to the dust on the trails.
Return to the grains on the beach.
I walk where sunset drop their fiery orbs onto the
horizon.
To rest my body fully and completely. Eternally.
Not yet says God. Not time for me to go.
With the box open, allowing the feeling to enter,
I stand at this point in time.
Watching water, hearing calls of sea lions.
Feelings wash through every cell of my body.
Sadness, longing, remembrance.
So much (has been) done. So much to do.
There is much work to do.
Melting, dribbling down the bridge.
Through the planks, down to the water,
More drops in the ocean.
My drops are but saltwater from my glassy eyes.
Close the box. Continue on my way.
Marching to the hope, power, and grace each day
brings.
Matt Crichton
3/2/16
PoemsMRC
Sand Dollars and Superheroes
So now you are up to date with my journey.
Oh wait! There's more.
Meandering with the magic of math.
I spy a small silvery sand dollar,
Peeking out of sandy water.
Precariously I bend over to say hello.
A whole sand dollar is it,
Gently travels to meet other sand dollars on the
dash.
To be dried by infrequent sun drops.
Community always feels better when needed.
The math and young ones go forward into
Unknown future, ready to don superhero capes and
masks.
Battle the dark underlings,
Crawling, flying, lurching forward.
Matt Crichton
1/28/17
PoemsMRC
More space for thoughts/reflections/inspirations Introduction

This booklet represents about ten years of writing

on scrap paper whenever I had a strike of
inspiration. Im not one to set aside time for writing.
The writing seems to come to me. Im also finding
that revision scares away my inspirationits hard
work! Reading these poems again, it seems Ive
only scratched the surface of each story.

You'll notice some poems from 2006, and others

from more recent years. This is my one collection. I
find it hard to cut it into separate books. I have also
posted a few of these poems to my blog (online
journal). http://mrcwriting.blogspot.com

Inspiration is very important to meso I try to

nurture it wherever I go. Here a few people and
places that inspire me. Thank you so much!

The Sun Magazine, my yoga teachers, my

mom, my grandparents, Erin, Ted, Rumi,
Gods sweet nature and all its forms.
Thank you to my reviewers: DavidKH,
Nicki, KimAMC, Sarah, Richard, Jamie.

I do not write in a certain "form." Sometimes words

rhyme sometimes they don't. The path of inspiration
is quite often not a straight line. You may agree or
disagree with what you read on these pages. I
welcome your feedback/questions if you are so
inclined.

I write from my lived experiences. Sometimes the

words are happy / sad / mad. Usually raw and
unfiltered. I guess my writing has been inspired by
the Sun Magazine's style.

PoemsMRC PoemsMRC
More
Spaceintroduction
for thoughts/reflections/inspirations

If you
ou are interested in writing poetry or making
your poetry better, I have one book suggestion. The
Poetry Home Repair Manual by: Ted Kooser.. It
contains detailed information about editing poetry.
Summarized in a few words: use less words. I found
that I cut out 30-40%
40% of my words after taking the
time and effort to learn from this book. I hope it is
helpful to you.

I dedicate this poetry book to Kristine. I dont

remember why I decided to take her writing class,
but I think that was the spark that ignited my flame
of writing.

A few words on recycling

When you are done with this booklet, please dont
throw it away. Give it to someone else who may
enjoy it, or leave it somewhere a another person
may find it.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons

Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0
License. You may use these poems for non
commercial purposes and remix them as you see fit.
Any mistakes are entirely my fault. Please enjoy
From the Experience.

PoemsMRC