Winter may not be the best time
To look upon the trees
Some stand before us naked
Content if we don’t see

That they are less than beautiful
With their wardrobes gone
Hoping we do not notice
The need to put something on

It’s not like they’re embarrassed
Because they are asleep
So, be careful not to wake them
And for the moment, leave them be

It’s too hot
to lie in the shade
Sit in front of a fan
or drink lemonade
It’s too hot
for suntan lotion
Take a dip in a pool
or jump in the ocean
It’s so hot
that my body is straining
to keep up with my shadow
and even it is complaining

No one knows better
how hard it is
to stop and smell the roses
than one whose hair is on fire

May the light of a smile
put a song in your heart
and see you thankful
for a place with the living
May the beautiful promise
of a better tomorrow
be the gift
that keeps on giving

Men of a martyr
Live on the outer
Like disciples of Christ
Who are so enticed
To follow a message
To live like they oughta

Nothing seems
so heavy
to a fragile heart
so broken
than thoughts
so unhappy
they go
so unspoken

Time enough
for work and worry
Thoughts all a flutter
and in a hurry
So when there is pause
to relax and rest
It’s up to one
to do what’s best
and step off the ride
to let the world glide
on by

Take my face
into your hands
and tell me
that you love me
Though a reason
for each grain of sand
exists for you to spurn me

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

Care not
what you ought
and what you were taught
or your life
may be void
of any original thought

Cantering through the clover
Listening to a golden flute
He savors this day
With little to say
And dreams of aesthetic pursuit

“I mean to be the master”
He whispers his dubious heart
“The beast cannot win
If I do not give in”
A fight it has been from the start

He has lost some difficult battles
Maybe more than he can count
The inevitable toll
Has tired the poor soul
But strengthened the rebellious mount

The nature of the untamed savage
And the conscience of an inner man
Are engaged in a war
Like never before
The broker doing all that he can

Where is it?
That warm loving sun
to dry the tears
on the face of one
whose only sin
was daring to be happy

Time is the great conqueror
and we must bend hard to it’s will
For it is a powerful tyrant
and cares not for our petty notions
of immortality

One can spend a lifetime
scaling down expectations
to fit in the same space
with one’s limitations

There’s a man sitting on a horse
Long-faced in the rain
The man is dressed in a tux and tie
And dripping wet with pain
He knows **** well that it should be him
Standing with the bride
When he opened the invitation
He just crawled in bed and cried
He thinks he’s been in love with her
As long as he can remember
And now she’s marrying someone else
This dark day in November

From a humidor
for gods long vanquished
Wisps of smoke
drifting high in the sky
Lest we forget them

Sometimes inside
I feel oceans
Inspired
by the breath of the sea
From atop a great hill
my heart and lungs fill
with a spirited hunger to be

Sometimes inside
I see valleys
lined with sheets of dry sand
Where parched eyes can’t cry
for dreams that have died
and all hope is lost once again

Every afternoon
from the window of an abandoned building
a young boy plays a weathered guitar
his voice is sweet and enchanting
his message is one of love and hope
all that hear him are swept away
in a flood of euphoria and bliss
eventually he stops and disappears
all color drains from the street
there is no sound
the people go back to sleep
dreaming in a silent movie that is their lives

Unhappy
are those
who mean to collect debts
from those
not indebted to pay
It’s an odd little game
that nobody wins
yet, people
seem willing to play.

Heavier is the heart
that has aged from the weight of history

Eat when you are hungry
and when you’re tired sleep
Stop all the questioning
Life isn’t all that deep

Some days are like a dog
that won’t quit barking
An alarm that goes off
to stay on all day
until the sun sets
and the moon rises
Even then, there can only be
a temporary cease-fire with the
agreement that it all may begin again at first light

How much of the truth
must be missing
before it is seen as a lie?
You can bathe it and dress it
Maybe make it smell nice
But, a pig always lives in a sty

Fear stares at an open grave
And yearns for home

Please don't take a picture
that you'll only leave behind
Don't bother with the memory
or keeping me in mind
I'd rather not be there
if you are never going to care
So, please don't take a picture
if you would be so kind

Men who really don’t want peace
want only a respite from war
Adrift on high seas
and without the disease
are those who won’t come ashore

I can fancy myself a painter
Standing where the sea meets the shore
With my feet in the sand
and a brush in my hand
the canvas as an open door

to an ocean of abandoned dreams

War is best served by youth
For it has not yet
Had the time
To perish the thought of dying

Sometimes I think
that dumping my vices
would in itself
create a crisis
Today the notion
to give it a try
leaves my leg hollow
and my throat dry
I find a glass of beer
to be blessed
and abstention
to be a great a test
of all that pious men
have written
about love of God
and religion
So, here’s to what
wins the day
and to hell
with what my conscience
has to say

Truth is truth
until proven rotten
Lies are lies
But seem never forgotten

Why it always vexes me
I really cannot say
The birds, they tried to warn me
when they flew away
Warm memories of summer
Made known they’d rather stay
to help me with the stony cold
of a winter day

Waking up to greet the day
in hopes the blues
have moved away
And if they're gone
then who's to say
that it ain't no more than Heaven
If he can't feel
the other shoe drop
or the world come to a stop
he won't have to cry
and get a mop
to clean up tears in Heaven
Heaven
No more than Heaven
Life's as good as only one believes
But, for what's it's worth
he thinks that while on earth
it's difficult to get the blues to leave

I ache for the warmth
of a midsummer day
and the slow rocking rhythm
of a hammock's sway
All Winter's gloom
on clouds far away
and if left up to me
that's where it would stay

“May ******* everything”
is something I sometimes feel
But, I can’t let the poison
take from my heart
the good that the bad wants to steal

Amidst the curse
Of my mortal sleep
I walked the border
of life and death
Others carried my sins
And defended my honor

Today
I ride into battle
Beneath a shower
of glorious apple blossoms
With this song in my heart
Worthy of both knight and king:

As swords cross
And wounds run deep
I pray to Avalon
My soul to keep
To see my foe
Know well his face
His dying breath
His last embrace

A bad day
Is when I feel that
to save myself from turning to stone
is to avert my eyes
from the world’s head of snakes
A good day is when I don’t watch the news

All the air
blown between my ears
and all that's lost
from those crazy years
In the one
and out the other
Maybe it's better
that I didn't bother
to notice what was passing through

There’s a part of myself
That nervously watches
As I stare into space
Slowly banging a drum

And just like a ******
I batton down hatches
To prepare for the storm
That’s so unlikely to come

To be without love
is to feel but a sliver
of the world’s pain
and nearly
perish from it

Be not a martyr
with emotional pain
And do not barter
You’ll only suffer it’s gain
It thinks that it’s use
is to hang from a noose
bleed on the soul
to leave a stubborn stain

I have an applecart
It's contents are just so
Everything has it's place
Everything a row
I know too well
that if I let
the applecart
get too upset
I'll change into a man
I do not know

From the crushing tears pressed upon her bed
To drifting among the clouds
She heard it first inside her head
Then whispered the words aloud
Don’t you cry
Sweet butterfly
Soon enough you will be free
For life is but a moment
Compared to eternity

Some fear weakness
More than dying
Some would die
Before found crying
They’d rather drink
Than face their fear
And God forbid
They shed a tear

Compassion is the thread
that runs through most people
to let them know that we are all
cut from the same cloth

Just as he finished burying
the last of his unwanted memories
they were disinterred again
at the order of the coroner
His hands blistered
back sore
shovel still in hand
he was told
"Dig 'em up. Dig 'em all up
and when you're done,
bury 'em again because
we got to get your mind right”
It was then that he felt
there will come a time
when he won't need that ****** shovel

It's easy for me
to love folly in a child
with a heart so pure, innocent,
and wild

When that big dark cloud
floats above your head
standing like a vulture
over unclaimed dead
When it casts it's long shadow
And troubles your sky
Insist that it move
to let the sun by

You and I
are not such bad actors
But, we have had
bad roles

Walking into rooms
Familiar but unknown
Standing along dance floors
Usually alone
Sitting next to ghosts
In dimly lit bars
Staring out windows
At all the moving cars
He feels like the new kid
In the middle of the year
Introduced to the class
Then put back in the rear
Like something unused
And up on a shelf
Hopping down sometimes
To shake the dust off himself
An impotent wire
That needs plugging in
Not knowing how
Is his only sin

Welcome to the landscape
It's distorted dimensions
What he sees
and what he breathes
Welcome to the skin of it
to the cracking bones of it's heavy undertaking
Now, walk with him
if you can
if you can bear the strain