Upon my dais, I must stand,
each construction brick a choice,
growing higher year by year,
with each decision and thoughts to voice.

There is no destiny, except the one we make,
there are no reasons we are here,
just a random bit of chance,
just take a look it's all quite clear.

So when you lay the mortar,
between decisions made,
will your building be secure,
with considered choices paid.

Or will it rock and twist,
with the blowing winds of change,
will it be square, cookie-cutter ticky-tack,
or will it be your own, secure but shaped quite strange.

You're the general contractor,
the platform of life you must build,
stand upon it proudly,
the power is yours to wield.

A red bikini,
in trout green water,
a beauty like the sun,
yet so much hotter.

Texas star ball cap,
in hand, rod and reel,
glistening in Coppertone,
she is the real deal.

Floating stringer,
clipped to hip tied strings,
I'm just hoping,
a shark wants that thing.

She sets the hook,
reels a big trout in,
but I have thoughts
of original sin.

She wades on by,
gives me a smile,
then heads on down,
the tailwater miles.

Heads bobbing,
to music loud,
vape smoke hangs,
above the crowd.

The main stage rocks,
loud country songs,
the concert is great,
but never lasts long.

Girls on shoulders,
letting bras fly,
singer covers,
Wheel in the Sky.

An original song,
sad and sincere,
followed by one,
about drinking beer.

Melody of emotions,
ups and downs,
the speakers pump,
out the sounds.

A final cover,
everyone knows,
the crowd sings,
to close the show.

Crossed the state line,
playing the radio,
out of Texas,
into New Mexico.

From Sargent beach
we came and went,
the house was nice,
I paid the rent.

The beach was empty,
the fishing ******,
the water was hot,
we had no luck.

But fun times were had,
me, the kids and wife,
one last vacation,
before new life.

The son now drives,
the daughter about to go,
off to college,
our life's new flow.

She broke my heart,
in the McDonald's parking lot,
she got in her truck and left,
I was standing in shock and bereft

I looked up and across the street,
looks like I was in for a treat,
Fat Dog's store for beer and liquor,
I needed something, a quick heart fixer.

Bottle of Jack to dry the tears,
it works faster than a beer,
Maybe I should feed the pain,
so I walked back across main.

I need a cheeseburger and a shot of Jack,
so I take a swig and eat a Big Mac,
I'll forget her with this grease,
my hearts just not in one piece.

Maybe I should have ordered double of both.

Lost in the folds,
drowning in dew,
ecstatic convulsions,
the feeling renews.

Exhausted and sweating,
gasping for breath,
the feeling of living,
through little deaths.

Heartstrings tied together,
cupid plucks out a few tunes,
relaxing in afterglow,
stacked together like spoons.

Behind green-tinted lenses,
her blue eyes rolled,
inappropriate comments,
slid off summertime smiles.

Laughter and giggles,
water splashing,
Lemon La Croix *****
seasoning the afternoon.

muddy water hides
freckled skin reddened
multicolored cloth surrounding

a system destroyed,
binary stars exploded,
fifty-two fragments now circle,
swirling mass of confusion,
no identification possible.

two dim points of light,
swallowed by nebulae,
fluidly moving red, orange, yellow, green,
smeared in blue, indigo and violet,
perfection now unbalanced.

Email, Facebook, messages, and chats,
no one talks, typing is where it's at,
I just cleaned out my contact list,
wonder what that means I'll miss.

Back in the day,
memories made,
stored on film rolls
in their canisters shade.

Stamped dated and timed,
gps location stored,
we go back and look,
and quickly ignore.

No more waiting
for the pics that we took,
now simply post them,
straight to Facebook.

The nostalgia of old times,
rarely looked back,
nothing like those old photos
at moms, in books in a stack.

The memories remain,
yet little they mean,
stored in the cloud,
it's almost obscene.

It's hot on the tractor
the sun's beating down,
plowing my fields,
on the outskirts of town.

City girl pulls up
her lips are syrupy sweet,
brings me a jug,
say here have a drink.

I take a big ol' chug,
and I spit it right out,
she looks at me,
with a huge pout.

I looked at her,
and she looked at me,
I said,
You can put your sugar on my lips,
but keep it out of my tea.

But you're a plowboy,
isn't sweet what you drink,
I said that's what country music,
has taught you to think.

She walks on over,
presses her lips to mine,
I melt like candy,
man, that feels fine.

She looks up and says to me,
I guess you're not what you seem,
No, I'm much much better,
I say with a wink.

I looked at her,
and she looked at me,
I said,
You can put your sugar on my lips,
but keep it out of my tea.

Upon the bank, or on the beach,
in a boat, or knee deep in a creek.
with rod and line, I weave a dream,
while casting hope down the stream.

I reel it in with every cast,
unlike life, this hope will last,
optimism, unabashed,
possibilities without backlash.

Finally opportunity knocks,
you set the hook and it locks,
the fight is on, you reel it in,
in this battle, you get the win.

From somwhere outside my bubble,
the mindless quacking of a mallard
has infiltrated my thoughts and ideas,
confusing and annoying.

The sun, blinding at it's zenith,
now fades into a vermilion pool,
mercurial silver water transformed,
photovoltaic cells failing in loss of light.

I too begin to fade, diminishing energy,
consumption of power during the day,
draining batteries, my thought light dimming,
the sun, passes the horizon, and darkness envelopes.

Unscrewing my light bulb and setting aside,
preparing for a rest. and shedding thoughts,
much like the fall trees losing leaves one at a time,
I close my eyes and dream, of a duck and a lake

Country music and big buckles,
parking lots and pick up trucks,
pocket knives and brass knuckles,
muddy backroads to get stuck.

4x4's all jacked up high,
Jack Daniels, Beam, or coconut ***,
momma's fresh baked apple pie,
her kisses taste like big red gum.

Farmers tans and cut off jeans,
bailing hay and raising cows,
on the front porch shelling beans,
John Deer tractor, fields to plow.

beautiful colors swirl,
clouding realistic images,
the truth is lost within.

I worship at her honeyed gate,
I long to taste and to tempt fate,
the glistening petals of desire,
could never ever douse my fire.

an unattainable wish,
it is against human nature,
the sadness of it all.

Waffle-like prints in the sand,
maple syrup sun pours across the land,
sunrise beach bulldozed clean,
sandhill dunes growing green.

Opalescent sheen of mother of pearl,
old oyster shells spin and whirl,
the waves come in with a slap,
seagull wings beat and flap.

Sand dollars here, but no change,
the crab runs sideways it's quite strange,
bottlenose dolphin swims right by,
the sun climbs higher in the sky.

Jelly fish, opaque blue balloon,
sandpipers squeak out a tune,
colored clams exposed with every wave,
they dig in fast like crawling in a grave.

No longer alone as the day begins,
kites now fly in the onshore wind,
parents and children, with frisbees and nets,
picnics to come and skin surfing I'll bet.

The cobras flatten and raise their heads,
their heads begin to bob and weave,
the pungi plays with hypnotic dread,
the crowd is scared but refuse to leave.

Under microscopic glare,
I simply act like I don't care,
but alas I succumb,
all embarrassed and quite numb.

Do I stand up to the scrutiny,
as I wander wild and free,
or am I judged to be lacking,
all my confidence unpacking.

I feel the burn as it burrows,
my brows are knit into a furrow,
all my weaknesses exposed,
all my truths are now disclosed.

Such is the life that we must live,
mostly take and no give,
the cameras and eyes everywhere,
so be careful and be scared.

Don't stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep,
truer words were never spoken,
never shall I be awoken.

Do not visit me here,
I have no pain and no fear,
now, I float upon the wind,
no longer am I chagrinned.

I am free of earthly bonds,
I walk among the trees and ponds,
the clouds and mountains with me commune,
from life's stress, I'm now immune.

So remember me and the good times,
while I was in my living in my prime,
forget the end, it was no longer me,
please listen and hear my plea.

Go on about your life and live,
give to all what you have to give,
Don't stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.

Turn the switch to down,
hear the squeaking sound,
tight wound wire unspooled,
dropping the boat adventure bound.

I turn the key and the engine roars,
my stress level begins to drop,
three days of fishing starts right now,
with hope the bites nonstop.

But as the saying goes,
better fishing than at work,
out here there is no nagging,
or complaints from bossman ****.

The only **** out here,
are the ones upon the line,
the bass bites my worm,
set the hook and feeling fine.

Nacogdoches pine trees,
shake their green heads, saying no,
at least that's how it feels,
as the wind continues to blow.

Brown needles, thrown my way,
as I trudge the forest floor,
big thicket hallway,
but there simply is no door.

Gurgling streams run over,
burnt iron ore orange mud,
filling up the creeks,
natures veins and life's blood.

The deer looks up at me,
flashes its tail and runs away,
the squirrel barks angrily,
on its perch's metronomic sway.

The mocking bird taunts,
mimicking the bob white's call,
the raccoon marches on,
oblivious to us all.

Blurred images of reality,
spread across the canvas,
pastel mirages entice me,
to enter the dreamscape.

Mental impressions,
transferred by brush,
transports me to Argenteuil,
to share a drink with Claude.

Tucked sails rolled away,
as mainmasts rock in the breeze,
the gentle lapping of water,
reaches my ears.

Details seep into consciousness,
but quickly dissipate,
much like the smokestacks ejecta,
filters away in the background.

Red and black flannel,
protecting what I seek,
tanned and freckled skin,
she is hiding underneath.

I seek to connect the dots,
with my tongues tip,
kissing here and biting there,
giving things a nip.

I peel down the collar,
exposing shoulder and neck,
in her mirrored eyes I see,
a sensual glinting fleck.

My hot breath causes shivers,
setting nerves on fire,
her baby hairs all stand,
like coiling burning wire.

Hands move at her waist,
a knot simply twist untied,
the robe drops to the floor,
the meaning is implied.

inspired ghostly images,
burned into retina thoughts,
in the end, life is empty,
even though it is hard fought.

playground swings hang limp,
laughter and smiles all dried and gone,
the wind whistles through the nothing,
a long and lonely song.

no birdsongs here,
no leaves of green,
a rarified emptiness,
there simply is no scene.

On days the mountains are close,
others they cannot be seen at all,
I swear they ride the rails,
at our imaginations beck and call.

The snow-capped peak winks,
in the spectacular rising sun,
reflecting thoughts and dreams,
and future hopes of skiing fun.

Today my mood is dreary,
on the verge of being bleak,
the mountains are all hidden,
for even they are feeling meek.

In the falling evening light,
the radio plays by wire,
Billy Joel swears the truth,
We didn't start the fire.

It's in the air tonight,
as Phil Collins plays the drums,
the melancholy melody,
drives us deeper into glum.

But suddenly a knowing lick,
the riff it, does begin,
Steve Perry doesn't stop believing,
we break into a grin.

On the hill, I stand,
looking over city lights,
the false constellations shine,
drowning out true stars bright.

The red serpent travels between,
flashing here and blinking there,
an uninterrupted trip,
but never going anywhere.

Gold and green sparkles,
changing at planned intervals,
in one spot a swirling circle,
spinning pure centrifugal.

Looking up now at the noise,
and more lights streaming by,
the jetliner move in slow motion,
disappears into grounding skies.

From the day of birth,
to first steps and words,
I've watched you grow,
through times steady flow.

Bicycles and ballgames,
scraped knees and pains,
holiday plays and songs,
seems like it didn't take long.

Driving and friends,
dances and proms,
homework and tests,
with hope for the best.

Here we are again,
another beginnings eve,
cap, tassel, and gown,
as high school winds down.

The pride in my heart,
tears ready to spill,
the diploma is handed,
in life, you've now landed.

And now a new journey,
you alone must begin,
just do your best,
you made it through the first test.

Happy Graduation Day.

Upon this desk, I lean,
staring at this screen,
from it nothing, do I glean,
I don't know what it means.

I hit the coffee for caffeine,
but this doesn't stop the dream,
my mind is a machine,
stuck in a routine.

Perhaps I need some epinephrine,
to get my thoughts hot like acetylene,
lubricate them with vaseline,
start them jumping on a trampoline.

Over sarcoline sand, I stare,
it is dotted here and there,
fulvous and falu umbrellas impaled,
the smaragdine waves try but fail.

Over and over it tries to stay,
while on the beach the children play,
burned to shades of amaranth pain,
and suddenly cooled by afternoon rain.

My eyes are trapped by the coquelicot,
her bikini color, on her yacht,
I watch and yearn as it cruises by,
a single tear streams from my eye.

But I wipe it away and take a drink,
the chartreuse liquid lets me think,
the taste of citrus, and of salt,
down the beach, my eyes do walk.

Cirrhotic mikado clouds do swirl,
the sun beats down as the smoke it curls,
if Xanadu is near, I have been fooled,
as my hope continues to cool.

Lost in the evening looking over wrath,
the earth continues its chosen path,
as do we toward destruction,
brought about by rampant construction.

DNA mixed and made the billions,
but so did the dino-reptilians,
we think we are masters of our time,
but we simply cling like the frosted rime.

As seasons change we melt away,
it is not our fault, it is just the way,
as it never stops and ever expands,
time and the universe random plan.

From the darkness, Samedi rises,
it is our souls that he prizes,
to feed upon and to focus,
its how death does his hocus pocus.

Cancer, diabetes and the rot,
not diseases but things time forgot,
freed again as humans spread,
increasing the numbers of our dead.

Buried things lay hibernating,
thousands of years, they have been waiting,
legends and myths and dragons too,
we simply do not have a clue.

Once awoken, no turning back,
we are running down the track,
pandora's box thrown open wide,
nothing at all can stem the tide.

The fingers pricked,
the blood, it beads,
our body lies,
about its needs.

Pancreas and liver,
all worn out,
excess energy stored,
we scream and pout.

Blood so sweet,
just like a pie,
full of fat,
leads us to die.

In moderation preached,
but hard to follow,
so we weep,
in obesity wallow.

To eat for fun,
it is a pleasure
but it ends our life,
the one we treasure.

Trapped in my asylum,
locked are all the doors,
my mood bounces up and down,
off the walls and on the floor.

From depths of hell,
to manic's peak,
away from this,
away I seek.

The ball of rubber
in a concrete pit,
perpetual ricochet,
I guess this is it.

Frowns and smiles,
and frowns again,
like changing masks,
the shape I'm in.

Time is dripping from the clock,
slowly filling up our lock,
as we float we slowly rise,
hopefully, there is a future prize.

On the day that it has filled,
our current life we will yield,
flowing into the next stream,
like shifting places in a dream.

Golden beak pecks at the bars,
longing to glide among the stars,
yet here it is trapped inside,
but on the breeze, it yearns to fly.

As others do so blissfully
it watches them so wistfully
knowing that it only learned
to hide from the sun or feel it burn.

With its pecks and sun and rain,
the old steel bars begin to change,
orange rust, it begins to thin,
just perhaps, a future win.

A lifetime watching them with ease
outside alive upon the breeze
second-hand freedom flying
high above as it sits crying.

And then finally the steel gives way,
spread her wings on this day,
Not trapped anymore soaring free,
amazing what her eyes can see.

Cumin and Chile scent the scene,
the encounter was quite mean,
knives and tools spread around,
you should have heard the slicing sounds.

Piles of orange and white offal lay,
like pathology samples on the tray,
now crooked grins and odd shaped eyes,
stare from the darkness, quite surprised.

There's a beep and a rush,
just be careful don't get crushed,
everyone reaches on to the pan,
we are all toasted pumpkin seed fans.

Comments and ideas
smeared on train cars,
telling stories of life,
tags of love and anger.

Art amongst the people,
approval is not required,
some look in awe,
others in disgust.

It takes all kinds,
I'm not sure it does,
however,
we have all kinds.

Sitting on the boat as the sun goes down,
no lights on the docks, no lights from town,
man, I could use two or three or more of these,
watching constellations come up, Orion and Pleiades.

Hand in hand on the front deck,
I lean over and kiss your neck,
feel the goosebumps, on you rise,
I love you, you're my ultimate prize.

Shooting stars, on a new moon night,
the darkness is deep, but not filled with fright,
its filled with love, passion, and astronomy,
the perfect date, this is the epitome.

Little waves rock, the Blue Wave boat,
it is our castle the lake is our moat,
the smell of leaf smoke on the October breeze,
the last trip of fall, before winter's freeze.

Hand in hand on the front deck,
I lean over and kiss your neck,
feel the goosebumps, on you rise,
I love you, you're my ultimate prize.

The flies fly relentlessly,
all around my head,
I swat at them repeatedly,
but its as if my hands are lead.

Three of them around me,
another 5 are in the room,
flitting here and landing there,
and by my eyes the zoom.

They land on my shoulder,
they do not cause me pain,
but I am thoroughly annoyed,
they are driving me insane.

The incessant buzzing,
one just crawled into my nose,
landing on my monitor,
they sit in a repose.

Life out in the street is hard,
so be careful or you might get scarred,
think about the choice you make,
as it just might be your life they take.

Guns on every corner cocked and loaded,
some selling bombs readily exploded,
black tar ******, crack, and coke,
decisions altered with every ****.

Vagabonds and losers,
everyone's a chooser,
champions and winners,
some are saints and some are sinners.

Deep in the dark with no assistance,
fight of your life against heavy resistance,
all your armed with is your wits,
are you ready to go, or call it quits?

Out of the dark and into the light,
did you win, maybe, but there's always a fight,
pay attention, prepared and ready to roll,
keep your eyes on the prize and strive for the goal.

Vagabonds and losers,
everyone's a chooser,
some are saints and some are sinners,
but not everyone's a winner.

From Friday night lights,
to construction sites,
from the king of campus
to new and nameless.

New Job, new town,
on his face he wears a frown,
can't yet drink a beer,
he is young, full of fear.

Covered over with bluster and bravado,
but the truth is, there's no place he can go,
burnt all his bridges on the day he left.
she left for college and left him bereft.

No word, no goodbye, she said it was over,
nothing to do so on he must soldier,
off to a new place to try something new,
he hopes to get passed and pull through.

So skipping college to learn a skill,
walking high iron, adrenaline thrill,
like dodging rushers in the big game,
but no one here knows his name.

And up the ladder of life he goes
making fewer friends and many foes,
but suddenly, from nowhere, a new lover at last
and has unhinged himself from a rocky past.

With gray in his hair and memories full,
on the beach, from a glass, he takes a pull,
the burn of whiskey, and grit of sand,
he looks and grins while holding her hand.

I have never seen a cup half full,
I don't believe that everything will be ok,
I don't believe everyone is equal in intelligence or ability,
I believe that most people ****,

But knowing this I simply shake my head and go on.