I'll do nothing...
bad in life that will make my mother cry.
You can disgrace me, debase me, tie me too a railroad track.
But once the tears flow from my beloved mother,
there's putting them back.
I'll do nothing, bear this in mind and hear it,
I'll do nothing that will diminish her spirit.
I won't let evil near it.
I'll honor her by being like her, and proudly cheer it.
A mother is nurture, she is the birth of nature.
A teacher not a taker, a mentor not a faker.
The ultimate God given talent-- a baby maker.
She forsakes hers for the needs of yours,
with dreams of high aspirations. of her off-spring for,
nothing less, till their health and happiness soar.
Who else in this jaded, complicated, world gives unconditional love. Who else has you in their thoughts expressly, wantonly. Who else has you in their thoughts religiously, constantly.
Concerned about your wants and needs, worries and dreads, doesn't want to pry so she prays instead.
Who else. No one else !
I'll do nothing in life that will make my mother cry.
May 10
May 10, 2026 at 1:37 PM UTC
Scary to bury,
a dead lifeless body,
use a pick and bring a shovel.
Pray on ones knees,
troubled times like these,
learn to beg, plead, and grovel.
Fear the specific,
doomsday horrific,
be witness to humanity sinking.
Bury the dead,
in the flower bed,
before they start reeking and stinking
End times anointed,
with weapons pointed,
eating brains with spoons and things.
Souls for the cracking,
ransacking, corpse stacking,
The future is ours to see.
The carcass is gutted,
the streets are flooded,
with blood of brothers and mothers of many.
Grasp it, the casket,
open it, choke on it,
for the morbid pleasure of seeing.
It comes creeping in,
a dead corpse wind,
smell the hell, the stench of decay.
It means the death of men,
time and again,
you can't run, but you certainly can't stay.
For your survival,
fear the arrival,
shakes the ground from around the bend.
Go ahead and scream **** it,
to a dying planet,
eating the flesh of a former friend.
Mumbling and praying,
stumbling and flailing,
the whole thing sprang from a world churning.
Consuming the night,
illuminating with light,
created by mutilated bodies burning.
Amidst the rubble,
with crying and dying trouble,
the panic of what next to do.
If a bomb should dismember,
your neighbor remember,
human meat can make an emergency stew.
Oct 31, 2025
Oct 31, 2025 at 9:31 PM UTC
In my heart occupying but a trace of a space,
is a tiny jar.
For the filling.
Glory from above for your love, in the tipping,
in the pouring.
In the hoarding and the storing,
in the willing.
A great story, for the telling about a feeling,
of adoring.
In a tiny jar.
Jul 27, 2025
Jul 27, 2025 at 6:14 PM UTC
I found a scribbled piece of paper on my coat,
The wife wrote, "pick up some CANDLES" in a note.
I thought it said "CANDIES" hoping to discover,
that we finally would have candies,
In our cupboard.
So I bought in a rush:
Snickers, Abba Zabba, Milky Way, Three Musketeers, Reeses peanut butter cups, M&Ms, Almond Joy, Milk Duds, laughy Taffy....and such.
I called her and told her all the candies I bought,
She said, "CANDLES, stupid", so I hung up.
Jul 13, 2025
Jul 13, 2025 at 4:22 PM UTC
I tinkered and cobbled a box together
to place my love feelings
safe from the wheelings and dealings
of loves thrillings and chillings.
Yet still and because
the thing that love does
I handed said box
without any locks
with trust
into the hands of a young lass.
The spine turns cold
when woe to behold
I sighted my love- feelings box
tossed among the rocks
bobbing in the sea
among the flotsam and jetsam
and trash.
Apr 24, 2025
Apr 24, 2025 at 7:21 PM UTC
Five pennies make a nickel
oh to trade for giant pickle.
Deal a deal a shiny button
In exchange for slice o mutton.
If me be a little silly
Swap it out for *** of jelly.
And if I sound a great big ******
change it for some peanut butter.
Trade my outhouse by the moat
For a topped- off gravy boat.
And me plenty, many worries
For a plate of huckleberries.
Replace me dreams of good eats
For some REAL potted meats.
And me sad wants and wishes
For food filled up dinner dishes.
Trade roof forever leaking
For a bucket of fried chicken.
And faucet missing gasket
For a filled up picnic basket.
Barter socks stiff and holey
For a Mexican bowl of mole'
Swap a dish rag smells a funny
For a jar of good old honey.
What I'm saying I so poor
I just want to eat some more.
Be willing barter piece me soul
Ultimately want my tummy full.
Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 8:18 PM UTC
There's Wishing it to be
Wanting it to be
and Hoping it to be.
But instead
Here's how it is...
It's REALITY.
It doesn't mean you should stop
wishing
wanting
hoping.
Because these are the desires
that keep us
going
flowing
forward.
Don't forsake it
fake it
or forget to take it
this striving in life for meaning.
Remembering...
REALITY is what you make it!
Jan 19, 2022
Jan 19, 2022 at 3:51 AM UTC
Was it Witchcraft?
Magic?
We weren't sure.
We were just children.
But we were witness to a manipulation of all things that abound. There was influences on objects of nature. Emanations of psychic force.
Like on cold nights where an ethereal spirit box would quietly hum as it breathed warm air into our play room. (turned out to be a heater).
Or where magically an upright coffin full of tasty morsels stood at the ready for hungry tummies. (Later we recognized it as a refrigerator).
Where mysteriously cold water turned hot, spilling from an orifice into a cauldron where upon us kids were placed like happy little guppies. (this we later knew as a bathtub).
Was it super natural powers,
magic,
sorcery?
Back then it was.
Because me and sister were just little kids.
And the SHE in control of all these magical powers?
She was our mother.
Happy Mother's Day
May 7, 2021
May 7, 2021 at 9:33 PM UTC
I thought I hummed a happy song,
but without a woman I was wrong.
A belief I was too blind to see.
Women are the best thing,
a man could ever have.
(she points this out to me).
She said that we,
collectively,
would open life's doors,
no less, no more, dance upon floors.
The joy we'll see.
(And while I'm out and about could I
run a few chores?).
She does wonderful things,
so I've been told.
At least I think so,
but this I know.
From the dawn of man,
through the times of sand.
Without a woman,
a man cannot stand!
(She wrote this on the back
Of my hand).
She lovingly wraps herself around
every aspect of my life,
my wife,
to the point I couldn't function
without her. Yes lovingly.
I wouldn't doubt her.
(She seems to have combined both our power).
She had the word TAKEN tattooed on
my arm,
I'm no longer living alone, so what's
the harm.
You can love them or **** them -
thy name is woman.
(when I'm wrong, I hide in the barn).
I try to squeeze her and please her,
kiss her and hold her,
and be mister charming.
She responds by whispering,
don't you have a ballgame to watch
Or something?
(She keeps me running).
I'm a mouse in my house,
who sometimes sleeps on the couch.
While wheeling and dealing with the
strife of married life.
She says it's for the best.
(I now pronounce you man and wife).
I wanted a strong woman that stands
on her own,
stimulates my growth.
Runs her life and runs our home.
A woman who's so much more.
(Be careful what you wish for).
She said you best be knowing,
that lawns need mowing,
kids need growing.
I countered,
can't I just be a snoring and boring,
simply enjoying dad?
She double-countered,
and said, "Women are the best thing a man could ever have".
(Who am I to argue).
I want a mate to share my plate,
one who has the grace,
to have smiles break-out all over
her face.
There's no way her smile could ever
flip upside down,
and become a frown.
(Could it?)
I reach for my back pocket wallet,
but her hand is already on it.
She says sharing is caring,
and it's a wonderful thing.
She states, "You want to be
wonderful too,
don't you"?
(So I guess sharing is the only way).
She says I'm teachable with a
smidgen of logic,
so I'm flexible, and her little project.
Change my stubbornness from bad to
good.
Says I'm hard headed.
(knock on wood).
So that's how it goes, I suppose.
To be a money provider,
a handyman, a chauffeur driver.
To be elated,
sort of appriciated,
to be a married man.
She keeps whispering in my ear,
for my brain again to hear,
and to make it perfectly clear.
"Dear", she says...
Women are the best thing
a man could ever have.
(So I've been told).
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC
Saying stupid things at inappropriate times for me is like riding a bicycle, it's something you never forget how to do...
like when my uncle tried riding a bike for the first time in 30 years and then proceeded to plunge over a mile high cliff.
It was my idea for him to ride the bike in the first place and I didn't know what to do so I leaned over the cliff and shouted, " pedal, pedal".
May 6, 2019
May 6, 2019 at 6:17 PM UTC