A kite once soared with a wish in its tail,
To catch a great gust and ride on the gale.
But the sky was too still, not a breeze to be found,
So the kite came to rest on the soft, silent ground.

“I’ll fish for the wind!” the kite boldly declared,
With a spool and some string, it felt quite prepared.
It cast out its line to the clouds way up high,
Hoping a breeze might nibble nearby.

It waited with patience, its tail twitching light,
Under the sun and the stars through the night.
It sang windy songs in a fluttery tune,
And baited the hook with a whisper from June.

Then—tug!—went the string, the line gave a wiggle,
The kite gave a cheer and a dance and a jiggle!
Up it went flying with wild windy zest,
A breeze on the line and the sky in its chest!

Now every young kite, with a dream and a reel,
Knows fishing for wind takes patience and zeal.
For sometimes the sky gives a gust as a gift—
To those who stay grounded but still hope to lift.

On a foggy dawn, as the socks were drawn,
The toes prepared for battle.
The pinky declared, with lint in his hair,
“We’ll rattle those phalanges’ cattle!”

Big Toe led the charge with mighty arch,
And Second Toe braced his shield.
They clashed in glee on the knobby sea
Of the wrinkly battlefield.

The bunions bellowed, the corns would cry,
While calluses thickened their skins,
And nails like blades in jagged shades
Clattered with fearsome grins.

Then Little Piggy, with shrill wee-wee,
Let loose a mighty squeal:
“I’ve had enough, your stench is rough-
Our truce, let’s make it real!”

So Big Toe sighed and put down his pride,
And Second Toe did too.
The toes all hugged (though they all still bugged),
As feet so often do.

And thus it went, till the socks were spent,
And shoes enclosed their truce.
No more they’d fight in the stinky night-
They’d save it for when they’re loose.

When it ended, I cried for us,
For the love we built on fragile trust.
The dreams we shared, the moments few,
I wept for all we couldn’t do.

I cried for late-night whispered vows,
For futures lost, for broken now.
For every kiss, for every laugh,
For what we had but couldn’t last.

You cried for you, your own despair,
For burdens that were hard to bear.
Your tears fell down, not for our we,
But for the things you couldn’t see.

Two rivers flowed but never met,
One full of hope, one of regret.

You think it’s a hug until it’s not,
Until warmth fades and ties grow taut.
What starts as comfort, safe and near,
Turns into something wrapped in fear.

The arms that held now grip too tight,
The light embrace becomes a fight.
Your breath, once steady, now feels trapped,
In what was love, now twisted, snapped.

You think it’s a hug, you close your eyes,
But feel the shift beneath the guise.
The weight that’s pressed against your chest,
Is no longer soft, no longer rest.

It tightens slow, it steals the air,
A squeeze that says it’s still “I care.”
But you can’t breathe, your pulse is weak,
What once was gentle now feels bleak.

You think it’s a hug, until the bind
Turns into chains that choke your mind.
And as you struggle to break free,
You wonder when it ceased to be.

If you have to lie, then deep inside,
You already know the truth you hide.
The words you twist, the stories bend,
Can never heal, can never mend.

A shadow creeps with every tale,
A weight that grows with every veil.
The truth, once bright, is lost in gray,
Each step you take leads you away.

You know you’re wrong with every breath,
Each word you speak, a quiet death.
If truth is gone, then so are we-
A bond can’t live on false debris.

If you must lie to make it through,
Then face the truth: it’s not worth you.

A small girl in a big world, sorry as sorry can be.
Hair too thin, stupid, grin, and bruises on her knees.
She stumbles through each crowded street,
Barefoot dreams an scuffed-up feet.

Her voice is soft, her eyes unsure,
A heart too kind, a world too blurred.
She says she’s sorry just for space,
For taking up the smallest place.

Wishing she could jut belong,
But feeling every step is wrong.
Her shadow, long, her presence, slight,
She fades into the endless night.

But in her chest, a spark still burns,
A hidden strength with time to learn.
Though she’s small, the world is wide,
She’ll find her way, she’ll turn the tide.

Alice and Bob, two minds entwined,
In binary thoughts, their paths aligned.
A world of ones, a world of naught,
In two’s complement, they’re re bound, they’re caught.

Alice starts with zero’s grace,
A perfect both in time and  space.
Bob, the mirror, flips the code,
Carrying the weight of what’s been owed.

For every joy that Alice brings,
Bob subtracts with silent wings.
A balance struck in binary,
Negative turns to harmony.

They shift, they slide, in endless dance,
Each number fits, no random chance.
Where Alice adds, Bob takes away
Two’s complement keeps them in play.

Together they form what can’t be lone,
A pair that makes the circuit home.
In twos they cancel, reset, spin,
Two’s complement, where they begin.

Syntax builds the fragile frame,
A structure bound by rules and name.
Each line, each mar, a puzzle piece,
The form that brings our thoughts release.

Semantics, though, is where it lives,
The meaning that the order gives.
A word alone, a line of code,
Means nothing till its truth is showed.

Syntax lays the path we tread,
The map of where our thoughts are lead.
But meaning waits beneath the lines,
In symbols, shapes, and quiet signs.

Without the rules, we’d lose our way.
But without meaning, there’s no say.
So  syntax shapes, semantics breathes,
Together, language weaves and weaves.

The sky was pinkle when I woke,
A shade of laughter, half a joke.
The clouds turned sorn, a moody hue,
Like whispers drenched in morning dew.

I dress in plasmic, soft and shy,
A color caught between a sigh.
My shoes were tied with strings of frave,
The color brave, that I crave.

The streets were wet, a glistening feel,
Like promises too sharp, too real.
I stepped through puddles, blur and glant,
With hues that speak, but never chant.

The trees were spindle, tall and thin,
Their leaves were painted grun and kin.
The world spun round in shades unknown,
Colors that feel, but never shown.

By evening, selk began to fall,
A hue that echoes with no call.
And as the night wore shades of flow,
I drifted where the colors go.

Oh, a liewish, a lieiwsh
a twisty-truth skewish-
a tale spun so wild,
it hopes to be true-ish.

It starts as a whisper,
soft as a sigh,
a fib with its fingers
crossed up to the sky.

“I’ve danced on the moon!”
or “I never feel blue!”
a liewish floats up
like a daydream’s debut

It’s a word in disguise,
a bluff in plain view,
a hope draped in make-believe,
sly as it grew.

Some say it’s a fib,
some say it’s unwise,
but a liewish just grins
and pretends it’s a prize

For what is a dream
if not wishes that lie?
so here’s to the liewish,
that dares and defies.

She penned her heart on paper, soft words like a song,
Each line dripped with feeling, where love could belong.
With careful strokes, she crafted her truth,
Dreaming of his smile, the joy of their youth.

Her heart spilled like ink, hopes dancing on the page,
In the warmth of the sun, she felt love’s sweet wage.
She folded it gently, tied with a thread,
Imagining the moment when he’d read what she said.

But noon’s light grew harsh, as shadows fell long,
He strolled in with laughter, his spirit so strong.
With a chuckle, he set down his cold can of beer,
And in one careless motion, her eyes filled with tears.

The paper, once tender, now pressed 'neath the weight,
Of a sweating beer can, her heart met its fate.
As droplets cascaded, her words turned to blur,
The promises faded, lost in the stir.

She watched from the settee, her smile turned to stone,
Her heart in the balance, her feelings alone.
In a moment of silence, she felt the sharp sting,
Of love unacknowledged, the pain it could bring.

A touch should be gentle, like whispers in the night,
But your words hit like storms, with no end in sight.
Each glance, a shove, though I never saw the hand,
Unnecessary roughness—what love could withstand?

The rules we once honored, now broken like glass,
Promises shattered as kindness slipped past.
It’s not just the anger, but the weight in the air,
The silence that lingers, pretending you care.

What was once soft has now grown so cold,
A heart left bruised from the grip you hold.
Unnecessary roughness in every embrace,
I flinch from the love that’s lost its grace.

Where warmth once flourished, now jagged and frayed,
A love meant to lift, but instead, it decayed.
And though I still stand, my heart shows the scars,
Unnecessary roughness has torn us apart.

In a quiet bowl, a tale began,
Of a fish with tricks that fooled each man.
A beta fish with colors bold,
But Liarfish, as he’d be told.

He’d float belly-up, still as stone,
As if his soul had swiftly flown.
Panicked eyes would widen, stare—
“Is Liarfish no longer there?”

But with a sudden, secret glee,
He’d flick his fins and swim carefree.
Laughing bubbles on his way,
Another prank to start the day.

“Oh, Liarfish!” the people cried,
“You got us good—oh, how you lied!”
And so his name began to grow,
A symbol of a tricky show.

From village streets to busy towns,
His tale spread far, it gained renown.
And when someone would stretch the truth,
Liarfish’s name would slip out smooth.

“Caught in a lie!” the people say,
“That’s Liarfish at work today!”
A wink, a grin, a knowing smile—
They’d call out tricks from many a mile.

Now Liarfish is legend, grand,
A playful prank passed hand to hand.
His name still floats on whispered lips,
When truth and lies make clever flips.

So if you hear a tale askew,
Remember Liarfish, swift and true—
For in his playful, tricky art,
He’s the master of a lying heart.

Please forgive my attitude
And if it seems I'm being rude
All my actions get misconstrued
I guess it's me and never you

I look soft and sweet
but I'm tough as nails
It's not that I win
but know how to fail.

Sundays smell of intimacy
The initial easing in
The slow meandering journey to x marks the spot
Circling
Round and round
Anticipation building
Bodies sweating
Momentum heaving
The right timing
The right configurations
Jockeying positions
Hands grip and pull
Finding and riding the sweet spots
Exertion. Discipline. Determination.
My compass rose
navigated

Another salty Sunday sailboat race

Her spirit was tousled,
unbuttoned and daring; brazen,
speaking in a wild language.

Every interaction
another opportunity to tell me
how much I hurt you.
How loving me
makes you a fool.
Please forgive me
for not being swept off my feet
and allowing you
to plunder my depths.

If ever I start to baah and bleet
And start to turn into a sheep
Slap me good and slap me hard
Keep me out of the farm yard
Bring to light the mindless plight
And remind me that I howl at night.

Unidentifiable nomads
Hot-wired
Dancing rootless, lean and hard
In the rhythm of now

Dear Future,
I see you sitting there. Plying at my mind all the time. Undecided. You want something concrete. Security. Only you you don't understand my heart is not on the same page. It's not on the page at all. It is soaring. Riding the wind. The currents. I must be in motion. Always in between arriving and leaving. This is where I thrive. In this breath. The one I'm currently breathing. It is truly all I have and that is everything. I know you don't understand. how could you? You are the future. Ever ahead. Always the horizon. All I can say is one day I will inevitably meet you, upon my death, and o the stories I will have to tell.

It's ignorant
to pray for someone else
to be delivered
from their ignorance
so that they can conform
to your ignorance

When awake in the morning without you next to me
disappointment settles like a thick fog.
You are the first thing I want to see when I open my eyes
and the last thing I want to see when I close them.
When t hose do not occur it throws me in to a wobble.
It reminds me of the lyrics you like so much... "To love is to hate"
I hate when the space next to me is not filled with you.

You turned ME
upside down
          into a WE

So close
Almost
Skin of your teeth
By a nose
A hair's breadth
A stone's throw
Not quite
Don't I know

It's not an argument if your opinion doesn't matter.

S ingular
E go
L iving
F or
I nstant
S elf
H appiness

Give me sunshine and wind and I'm as beautiful and carefree as a dandelion wish.

You move through my mind like a gorilla on rollerskates

E verything
T hat's
C omparable

U ttered
G ruff
H arumph

Windchime halyards
Swaying in tune with the tides
Night time lullaby

S tretched
M outh
I lluminating
L ifes
E njoyment

L etting
O urselves
V alue
E achother

You already have me all figured out.
All my answers.
All my beliefs and actions.
You have me decided
and that is blinding you.
Blinding you to who I truly am.
You don't see me.
You see who you think I am.
Who you expect me to be.
I am so much more
than the narrowness of your view.

There sits an empty dresser drawer
once full but now it's not.
Everything that I love
has up and left that spot.
To see it now you sure would think
it's empty as can be.
And to you that might be true
but not so much for me.
It used to house my sons clothes
and treasures he would keep.
Like gems, coins, hot wheel cars,
and toys that whirl and beep.
But now he lives off with his dad
declaring that it's awesome.
While I sit here staring at
my empty drawer coffin.
Tempting me to climb on in
until my tears do cease.
Laying down in all it's not
May I rest in peace.

Breaker of toys
Dasher of dreams
Pull all apart
Right at the seams
Demanding all time
Just to cause grief
You lecherous fool
You fun stealing thief
Mine you can't have
Mine aren't for keeps
I've taken them back
Mine can't be reached
I know all your tricks
I know your true name
I know what you are
A peddler of blame

Glass confessions
Fragile honesty
Entrusted to your
Choking squeeze
Bursting glass candor
Insulated confetti asphyxiation
Defiant Resistance

We are repeating yet fleeting,
estranged remnants,
together alone.
It was the strangest feeling.
To be married.
To be  chosen.
To share life.
The one place
you are supposed to matter most
only to become a ghost.
To be forgotten.
To disappear
into the wallpaper and tapestry,
not in a woven way
but in a painted to look like it way.
And if you stay long enough,
no longer reflected in their eyes,
you will forget yourself too.
The dissolution of my geography.
My fault lines slowly became riddled with fissures
until one day the area between my *******
collapsed in to a sink hole.

I will not conform
I will not obey
I will not submit
I'll play my way
I will not give in
I will not retreat
I will not sit by
I'm fast on my feet

Pirate 1. "Pirate 3 is my prodigy"
Pirate 2. "You teaching him the ways?"
Pirate 3. "No, he is teaching me the sways."

Sitting under the pecan tree
Relaxing in the shade
The breeze she came and played with me
Cavorting through the glade
Until the ants from firetown
Marched up my legs post haste
And made it to my midsection
To bite upon my waist!
Jump I did and slap myself
For what else can you do
When colonies of fireants
Are taking over you?

I caught myself a Leprechaun!
It took two and seven years
More with wit than with brawn
and a variety of beers.
He is a little son-of-a-gun.
Fast on his feet is he.
He is a little wild one.
But not w-i-l-y as me
Now three wishes I do get
but need them I do not.
For anything I'd ever want
Is right here in this spot

I awoke to a dull thud upon my face. The hand of your left arm haplessly flung as you slept. The thud must have alerted you as well because I heard you catch your breath and hold it while quickly turning to see what was amiss. And as you comprehended you let out a very soft "Oh!" and then quietly declared with the absolute wonderment and surprise of a child come Christmas morning "A Human Being!" and promptly went back to sleep.

I was sent on the most urgent mission to rescue the tea!

It was the most dire of situations. The package of tea, having finally arrived after a very long journey from overseas, sat defenseless on the porch. It rested peacefully, waiting for the eager owner to run forth with open arms, tears streaming, and proclaiming such holy gratitude that all of the church doves in all of the world flutter in to flight the moment her heart rings like a bell at seeing said package.

And as it rested peacefully the most ominous form loomed on the horizon. A sight more terrifying than babies eating pickles and bears with no hair. The darkest, most heavies, most deep blue clouds were building ever bigger, and coming ever closer. So pregnant with rain that at any moment that saddest shade of blue was going to color the very town the package was waiting in and color the heart of the owner, that very same shade, unless I could possibly make it in time.

The story of the mission itself and the actual said rescue of the tea is entirely another story which just so happens to be titled "I was somewhere else, but I wasn't, but I was" which is part of the continuing chronicles: The Misguided Adventure of Stumblebum Fumbletongue. Out on sale next yesterday.

You are my time for myself

There once was a girl named Sally
Who liked to dilly-dally
On the bed she did stay
All night and all day
Instead of cleaning the galley

Dreaming of days long gone
When witches would ride upon
Her family and friends
Through the wends and the bends
In between dusk and dawn

I can't
get enough
of the art
that you are

That thump
and that bump
on my ****
as you twirl
and you pump
-Spin Cycle

I try to creep from the bed
but instead you grab my head
and pull me back to you.
Back so you may pet my hair.
Deep asleep you still care
and melt I promptly do