A steelman through and through,
then he found something else to do,
putting out fires, or finding the cause,
then pursuing those who broke the law.

St. Barnabus and brains and feet,
if you ever have the chance to meet,
ask about these stories, if you have the time,
about him and all his partners in crime.

Surfer on acid in the cups of all,
we sit around and watch some football,
Sabretts on the roller, chili warm nearby,
ready for the bun with some mustard on the side.

Sausage and peppers simmer, on low and slow,
Halloween candy bowl is about to overflow
scary decorations on the porch and out in the yard,
pretty sure “R” and Joe have left some kids scarred.

Pork roll on a bun with some egg and cheese
Cucuzza served at lunch, he always aims to please,
stories of the elk hunt, or a bluefish on a line,
or headed to “The Office” to have a really good time.

Attention, Attention, is the beginning of the spill,
announced overhead, though he knows he’ll pay the bill,
a birthday, or a funny, said to the hospital staff,
through the loudspeakers, and we all usually laugh.

Catching sheepshead, and playing spoons
hunting dove with kids in the afternoon,
chasing down ambulances and smoke,
driving and giving his cigar a ****.

Helping and solving problems the physical or of the heart,
if you have a need, there’s no better place to start,
just ask ol', Joe, he knows just what to do,
then he will make sure that you always follow through.

Cramming doctors in the ******, for a spin around the park,
or stringing up someone’s bicycle, just ask Dr. Spar,
putting tape on computer mouses, or making them disappear,
as he leaves us for Jersey, we all will shed a tear.

I can write in free verse,
I can write in rhyme,
I enjoy drinking beer,
I enjoy drinking wine.

I can write things abstract,
I can write things concrete,
I can write things unsaid,
I can write things complete.

I cannot solve your problems,
I cannot cure your pain,
I cannot stop the sun,
I cannot stop the rain.

I cannot heal your virus,
I cannot heal the hate,
I cannot seal the chasm
only you can pick your fate.

We’re tired of the ‘Rona,
the numbers keep on rising,
no one is sure if they are true,
but wearing masks they’re still advising.

We’re tired of the Race Bating,
all the colors can be friends,
but with looting and riots,
there seems to be no end.

We’re tired of law enforcement,
always under attack,
they are here to help all of us
red, brown, yellow, white or black,

We’re tired of the politics,
the far left and the distant right,
a house divided can never stand,
and now mostly out of spite.

We’re tired of offending,
with everything we say,
grow some thicker skin,
or shut up and go away.

We’re tired of the flag burning,
if you don’t like it here then leave,
go back to where you came from, or where you want to be
when you’re gone, just know, that none of us will grieve.

We’re tired of the media lies,
about all these things,
pouring gasoline on the fires,
and tugging all our strings.

Strangled thoughts ricochet around,
screaming silence muted sound,
lost inside the synaptic pulses,
like a myriad of combined song versus.

My feet move unbidden,
to only sounds that are hidden,
deep inside my skull and brain,
falling on me like gentle rain.

The changing tides fling me around,
all I hear are ocean sounds,
churning and changing my direction,
mostly against my discretion.

Nights gossamer gown now burned away,
I sit and look across a field of hay,
in the distance, deer now feed,
I wonder where this day will lead.

The coffee with its own cream clouds,
fuel, the thoughts of screaming crowds,
but for now, I am here alone,
sitting on my back porch throne.

Sanitoriums of the past,
the ghost in my lungs,
slowly eating me from the inside.