There was a time
When he dwelled
In the spacious house
That was once her heart
And now there is not
One small room left
For him to occupy

As I ride into work
I catch myself dreaming
of a nice, long nap
before a day yet begun
My bed is the grass
of a cool, green meadow
draped in the light
of a warm, Autumn sun

I should like
to wear the shades
the tans and grays
of winter days

Quietly sit
in stone cold silence
to render calm
this inner violence

To molt the skin
of what I'm feeling
To know the floor
from the ceiling

Not begrudge
my heart's abiding
Learn to face
in me what's hiding

Though bad times
can crawl like a tortoise
and good times
race like a hare
Indifference will always
run last in a race
when there’s no motive
or reason to care

Sometimes, we can be such geniuses
Caught in the lies
Of what we think we know
It's just part of the show
Trading truth
For a clever disguise

Criticism of oneself
Is often the harshest
Do unto you
As you would have others
Do unto you

Always in the back
of things
Behind a curtain
A shadow
A silhouette
Never blowing a horn
There was no horn to blow
no air in the lungs
no will in the legs
to play and march
in a parade

There are mornings
Upon my awakening
When a new day’s been granted
And it’s there for the taking
I assemble myself
From bad parts off a shelf
My house of cards stands
But not without shaking

Sometimes I feel the Reaper
Winking at me
He wants to come over
For a chat and some tea
He’ll tell me that I am nothing
But an echo from the past
My future behind me
That I’m fading fast
He’ll score some very clever points
To weaken my resolve
Then sincerely assure me
There’s no problem he can’t solve
But like my neighbor’s crazy dog
Who barks up an empty tree
He and I
Won’t see eye to eye
And he may not enjoy his tea

Wise man say
It is much easier
To practice acceptance
Of the world’s imperfection
Within the silence of meditation

Wind blows
through the carcass
of an old ship run ashore
It beckons her ghosts
to board once more
She's sad
and she's lonely
in a harbor of sand
and her decks need the company
of those old scurvy hands

Whisper what you want of me
How much longer can I wait?
My hearing really is quite good
Though I don't always see so straight
I sit beneath a starry night
Listening for a sign
But alas
More hours pass
Seem like a waste of time
Whisper what you want of me
I grow tired of the wait
I want to know the secret
Before it is too late
Whisper what you want of me
For I do not see
If the question is aimed above
Or is it aimed at me

They are the young innocents
unspeakably betrayed
who walk in paths of darkness
not knowing where they have strayed
Products of childhood trauma
built from assembly lines
of dreadful family dysfunction
that left them far behind

In a field
Of senoritas
Dancing in the sun
I saw their smiles
Among the sunflowers
Before their dance was done

To observe the soothing grace
of trees slowly swaying in the wind
Is to release myself
From the stressful pace of the day
and breathe the freedom
of the present moment

Valiant are those souls
who are willing to brave
the treacherous waters
of traumatic pasts
They sail with a wind of conviction tempered with caution
Worthy of an ancient mariner
it is an adventurous,
perilous voyage
yet full of hope that one day
their stormy seas will set them free

... and hidden from the world
     where most cannot see
     a boiling cauldron of madness
     the trouble that is me

      when the dark times come
       I seethe at light's absence
       then rage at God
       for his apparent indifference....

Full of liquor and beer
The man in the mirror
Spoke to the other
At the shed of a tear

“Selfish deeds
For empty needs
Perhaps are why
Hearts ache and bleed”

Hang your troubles
on the Tree of Sorrows
Look for ones
to steal or borrow
Then step around
the tree again
grateful
that another’s pain

is not your own

These precious flowers
were mad with glee
Having a party
because they were free
To sway with ease
in a summer breeze
I could have sworn
they were waving at me

Delusion is born
in the mind's desperate attempt
to escape confusion

Let's take a drive
up to the mountains
where no one can find us
at least for the day

Rest in the arms
of slumbering giants
'til a breeze
from the trees
softly asks us to stay

There are some mornings
upon my awakening
A new day’s been granted
and it’s there for the taking
I assemble myself
from bad parts off the shelf
My house of cards stands
but not without shaking

If God watches this weary world
through the eyes of birds
Are their heads bowed
in the rain
of his unspoken words?

Fear and Rage
Brother to brother
Whenever they awaken
One says to the other
What kind of suffering
can we cause today?
That’s when one hears
the other one say
I just love the smell of ******
in the morning

Lady bug Lady bug
My, you are so small
Yet, you cast a shadow
Upon my kitchen wall
It makes me think my frame of mind
Can sometimes be so shallow
And that is when I’m wee enough
To fit inside that shadow
Lady bug Lady bug
What if you should fall
Where am I to go
When I do not stand so tall?

In the early spring
when flowers bloom
the daffodils dance
by the light of the moon
Their time is short
yet dance with glee
for the night can’t own them
and they will always be
children of a rising sun

There was this dream
of the trouble he would see
in death
as he had seen in life

But the sight of his ghost
disturbed him the most
as it hacked
at its chains
with a knife

How dull the instrument of alcohol
In service of emotional pain
For come the dawn
the effect is gone
and the wolf is at the door again

Say goodbye
to the days of summer
as we ponder Autumn’s waking
It’s warm memories
fall from the trees
forgotten until Spring’s remaking

A violin
for a single flower
Cellos for all
the gray barren trees
An orchestra
and it’s infinite power
for an ‘Ode to Joy’
to set the world at ease

I see a little boat
in a harbor
waiting to set sail
for the sea
It floats as prisoner
tied to the docks
waiting for it's chance to be free

But I have no view
of a harbor
and I do not live
by the sea
Yet, I'm haunted by visions
of this sad little boat
I sense it has a message for me

Does it want us
to sail off together
and throw caution to the wind for the day?
Is it enough of a boat
to keep us a float
or will we sink to the bottom of the bay?

Winter follows
The long bow of a cello
And all in it’s realm
Must play to it’s tempo
As the last of the leaves
Fall to the ground
And trees must wear
This season’s white gown
All God’s creatures
Ready for sleep
And the peace of their slumber
Is the cello’s to keep

Put a little faith
In your ballast each day
Your sailing should be smoother
Though your boat may still sway
Calmly observe
The lesser losses and gains
It may help you weather
Greater stresses and strains
Most storms don’t have the power
To wash you away
Pray for all in this world
And let come what may

Father, tie a ribbon
To an old oak tree
That will let me know
You’re still waiting for me
Don’t let the ugly past
Turn your love away
Please don’t forsake me
Because I went astray

If you choose to take a turn
Down that old oak lane
Find a branch that you can reach
Absolve me from the pain
Of regretful memories
And so much that has passed
Let me trade them for a ribbon
So I can come home at last

Sometimes it seems to me
that the world walks
with a big limp of hypocrisy

Silly hearts
****** toons
and goofballs
make light of all that is heavy
for us
and won't leave
a bucket of tears
without a barrel full of laughs
for balance

Many an unfinished project
began with the impractical
pursuit of perfection

There is no strength in cruelty
It is an ugliness with only weakness
as it’s base
An unsightly reflection
of damaged people causing more harm in defense of their open wounds

How difficult the lives
of those who spend
much of adulthood
searching for the parts of themselves
lost in an embattled childhood
and once found
assembling those jig-sawed pieces
into what was thought never to be whole

The face that lives
inside the blot
is content today
not to stir the ***
To disturb the peace
is to break the lease
with the only friend
the man has got

How pale the days
without love
No color to their memories
and tomorrow but a sketch
of a painting not yet started

“I have to look for your father”
we’d hear our poor mother say
for he had little fear
standing on the great pier
during a storm on the bay

When father had the Black Irish
we’d hear hear our poor mother pray
“Keep him off that **** pier”
when bad weather was near
so the sea couldn’t wash him away

When I wake I wonder
What the day will bring
Will my heart run silent
Or will it choose to sing
Will I sense the tragic death
Of yet another day
Or feel enough true gratitude
To kneel to God and pray
Will I find the joie de vivre
To take life as it goes
Or see my reflection frowning
At the world and all its woes

Addiction is the chili
we put in our eyes
to make us to forget
about the splinters
in our feet
If only we were more like elephants

Pink lilies in the tarns
Wave like satin in the wind
Veils to an underworld
Where secrets lie within

Smooth and silky ******* of sand
Amidst the ancient rock
Cast shadows in the valley
Neath the ice cream mountain top

Water hangs like bath towels
From the mountain’s misty eyes
Silhouettes of caribou
Dance across the dusky skies

Atop a celestial carousel
Sits a twinkling evening star
No need for idle wishes here
Dreams are good the way they are

A young monk
eager to show his peers
the depth of his devotion
embarks on a long fast
After 12 days
he believes he has proven
worthy of respect
but, he finds no acknowledgement of his act
Discouraged, he goes to the abbot to tell him his tale of woe
After a long silence the abbot speaks
“Is it sacrifice for the good
of one’s soul
when no food is taken
from a full bowl?
Or is it martyrdom
thick with need
wrongly mistaken
for a sanctified deed?”

Blessed are the butterflies
that brighten ugly walls
They bring a little sunshine
to where there’s none at all
The flutter of their spacious wings
chase the clouds away
that prey upon the innocence
of an unsuspecting day

Go to sleep my friend
Your day's at an end
No use in re-living it
again and again

Gather up all your troubles
and pack them away
Leave them high on a shelf
for some other day

How ironic the insight
that my mind
spends much of it’s time
blind
to the reality that it is
stuck in the head
which is stuck up the ***
of a blundering fool