So close to the edge and about to step over
Then I can rest under that sweet clover
The fall will be like flying
With the sweet release of dying
I only see the sorrow stopping
With my body dropping
I'm so tired of the gray
I just want it all to go away
I can't take another catastrophe
The demons won't let me be
So I'll step behind the veil  
Because I already live in hell

on the verge of wilderness
imminent silence*

welcome
the sun stroking
peaks aglow
the thundering falls
mist-kissed rain
the solitude
so rarely reached
too often breached

stillness loosen
untamed words
in the native tongue
before thoughts
unspoken
became yours
mine
ours

to the wild
bear these
cryptic symbols
scrawled on
my halved heart
tokens of longing
succor
for the lost

I am 37:
Writing a poem I wonder of the words
And an echo forms into my very fabric,
I sit in my chair and the pen begins;

I am 12 years old
And mother is dying in front me breathing
Her last breaths as a bullet takes her from me,
I see the quarter moon and pray for mercy;

The quarter moon stands in a night
Filled with wonder and
I am 32 years old when I find out my
Daughters exist, all that came before
Comes together in the moment I find
Out they are mine;

And the moment is an algorithm
Of change that never really changes,
I am 15 years old and she looks deeply
Into my soul and tells me she is ready,
I enter her,
The time is phosphorescent;

In the afterglow
I am 47 and I have not yet begun
To live, but my days are ending
Because I could not control my urges
And the alcohol eats my liver as my daughters
Cry for their father;

My daughters cry for their father
Reaching out to me,
And I am 34 years old when I see
That this is something to cherish and
I immerse myself into the moment
And all things seem to stand still,
Timelessness, yet it all must pass
To become forever;

I am 37 years old,
All stands still.....
The years passing away.

Promises in a burlap bag
slung over your shoulder
offering three for dollar
(I've already heard it twice before)
Maybe this time I will be lucky

I found a penny heads up,
but didn't have the sense to pick it up

Still an echo spins atop a broken record
repeating the same chorus
no matter what song is playing
that all are tired of hearing by now

Oldies but goodies are just as bad
as the first time you heard them

Spinning yarns
in coloful fabric weaves,
braided possibilities that never
seem to shrink in the wash

The button for gentle cycle
broke a long time ago

But there is always that chance
when we lean on words
hoping they support the message
delivered once again

*Chances are like matches,
using the last one is always bad luck

As wearily as I feel at times here in this world.
As though the battles at times never cease to stop.
I have something far greater then gold and rubies.
Its the friendship of these beautiful and awesome people.
That life far outweigh any ocean liners that hit the shore.
I am by far so grateful for each and every one of you.
You make my life worth living, you and the Lord Jesus.
I shall come back on soon to be blessed by you all.
I want each and every one of you to know you are special.

There is a love that rages here.
A kind that's incredible.
One that's illogical
and addled.

It sees through eyes though blind.
It thinks with mind though insane.
It feels with heart though unscrupulous.
It chooses with thought though reckless.

It is selfish and it wants what it wants.
It doesn't care because everything else
bears little weight.
Inconsequential.

There is a love that surges here.
And we are but...
collateral damage.