I sincerely wish
I could blame the flesh
for the weakness of my mind
and in the end
I could depend
on my Judge to be so kind

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

What manner is this in him
as to take no pleasure in vices
He had none
It gave him the appearance
of a pious man
which he was not
If there was pain
from a rough up-bringing
he seemed to be immune
to its effects
much as he was to vices
designed specifically for numbing
It was not a moral choice
Simply a road not taken

May I not use
the air in my lungs
to spread strife from my mouth
and loud poisonous tongue
Give me strength to endure
the other side of my silence
and not burden my brother
with screams of defiance

I think my cat
is big and fat
She doesn’t listen to me
So, I call her that
When she meows
I just have to grin
She didn’t sound like that
when she was thin
She will walk the hall
and take all day
That’s when I ask her
“ How much do you weigh?”
She’s getting older
but, not any thinner
I guess she could do
with a little less dinner

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

Yesterday’s regret
And the dread of tomorrow
Have played their parts well
In this rendition of sorrow

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

I was told
that we weren't meant
to live in fear
of dying
We evaporate
into the wind
like water from sheets
that are drying
We float on clouds
in bleached-white gowns
waving to our former towns
Going where we won't wear frowns
or ever feel like
crying

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

There are times
when the atrocities
committed on the the battlefield
of my own mind
are the equal of anything
that happens in the real world
My sane and logical thinking
tells me that this is most certainly not true
But, the insane and emotional part of me
tells me that it is

May I never be so old
That I can’t lie on a floor
Or become so set in my ways
That thinking makes me sore!

May I not be so dismayed
By what I can’t do anymore
And be mindful of what I can do
That I could not do before

May I laugh at the bitter cold
Even when it seems a chore
Appreciate the green of Spring
Isn’t that what Winter’s for?

May I season my old age
With a some pepper and some sage
And hope my conversation
Is not a dreadful bore

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

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

A thought
for a bleak and dreary day
When darkness comes
and wants to play
A glimpse of people
hand in hand
Linking smiles
across the land
A string of lights
wrapped around the world

Like a Christmas tree

A thousand tiny paper cuts
brought him here to death
The vengeful words
of his angry thoughts
expired with his final breath

If one could receive a penny
for every moment spent
in self-indulgent worry
one might become rich
But, would quite probably trade
all that wealth away
for all the good times lost
between faith, family, and friends

All the world's
ears burn with sound
tongues burn with smells
bodies burn with lust
and our minds burn with greed, hatred, and delusion
The world is on fire
and we are it's arsonists!

Back in the days
of puppies and kittens
When my pages were full
Of stories unwritten
I’d begin each day
with my very best friend
chasing the sun
until the day’s end
But, as time wears on
and I get older
As I slow down
and the wind grows colder
I always remember
What I had been told
“You’re a short time young
and a long time old”

What makes a man
Into a Genghis Khan
And regress into his terrible twos?
It’s not enough
That he should win
Everyone else must lose

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

The words from this
passing stranger
were like music to his ears
For the first time
in his difficult life
he felt calm amidst his fears
To be less consumed
by the weakness of flesh
meant connection to his soul
It was the filling
of his heart’s content
where there was once a gaping hole

To lighten the load
of too solemn a day
blow kisses with laughter
to chase it away
And if the blues
don’t want to stay
then it ain’t no more
than heaven

Again
he dreamt of Anna
at the back of a line
in the wind and the cold
In her hand
A bandana
begging for food
that could not be sold

They hid in the woods
by a roadway
all huddled together
on that cold winter's day
Nothing but silence
wedged between them
until they came
to chase them away

There's been nothing
but years of searching
ever since that awful day
and no matter
how often he asks her
his beloved sister
has nothing to say

As I watch two leaves
twirl in the wind
I name one Hans
and the other Gwen
From the top of the tree
to the bottom below
where one leads
the other must go
The ground breaks the fall
and then the romance
Alas my friends
it's the end of the dance

To walk in the woods in Autumn
is to feel it’s tired old soul
As it prepares for another long nap
the seasons have taken their toll
The leaves wave goodbye to their neighbors
as they harmlessly
float to the ground
There isn’t enough water
running by the old mill
to move the wheel around
It gives me pause for reflection
of how I’m in awe of it all
Living on the cusp of Winter
as everything slows to a crawl

I'd like to hear Mozart
from the starlings in Vienna
Then pull them from the azure
and put them into my piano

I'd like to see the cypress trees
waving in the wind
Pleading for my intention
to sketch them once again

Paint the weathered boats of Delft
along its waterway
Fill a mural with peasant girls
sleeping in the hay

When it's time to awaken
from this pleasant reverie
I'll need to take a step towards earth
and return to reality

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

I find that inside
my chaotic head
is a dangerous place to be
and when I’m aware
that I’m living there
I urge myself to flee

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

The span of time
to the present from birth
can be measured in a particle
of light sent to the earth
Life passes quickly
like the blink of an eye
that cannot stare long
at the sun in the sky

... 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....

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

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

Somewhere over the wall
of intolerance
lies a future
free from fear and the past
We can’t seem to get
over the top of it
and we know our patience
can’t last
Help us over the wall Lord
Help us over the wall
And in the interest
of our salvation
Please oh please do it fast

In the shadow of fear
May my strength of heart
Not let death’s foul breath
Keep me apart
From the hope of my passing
That I go unharmed
To the loving hospitality
Of God’s open arms

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

It is what it is
but all is as it should be
Be thankful your trouble
isn’t all that it could be

As he stares out the window
Death slowly moves in for the ****
Ignoring the lively cigarette ash
lying upon the sill
And another drink
helps him sink
even more into his empty will

As the rose-colored spatter
ran across the wall
This genius in budding
felt no remorse at all
Possessed by a craving
for a special shade of red
to complete the special masterpiece
that had always been in his head
He dipped his brush into some blood
that had spilled upon the floor
His masterpiece might have to wait
The police are at the door

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

I stand in a field
of cold stillness
Amidst it’s golden strands
I raise my arms
to hold the sun’s face
so warmly in my hands

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

Every summer about July or August
I imagine a cold, steady rain
on a winter’s night
The watery glare of a corner street light
gives the appearance
of an impressionist painting
The cold pavement of the street
shines as if drying from a coat of varnish
I yearn for the sight of steam
rising from my breath
A hat on my head
and my coat collar up around my ears
Uncomfortable enough to require a brisk pace
to warm the slight chill in my bones

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

**** those dreadful wounds
for which there are nary enough
long cries
and sleepless nights to ease
May we never be cut so deep
as to bleed such unjust tears of sadness

What is it today
that I cannot say no
that it burns in my chest
like a volcano
What is it today
that fuels the resentment
as I nod my head “yes”
in reluctant agreement
I am usually sorry
when I don’t say no
when that little voice tells me
“I told you so”

Another cold Fall morning
when the sun dried leaves on the ground
are as crisp and golden
as the corn flakes
I poured into my breakfast bowl
When trees are growing bare
and questioning the wisdom of Nature's timing
When squirrels dash about
cursing their procrastination
It's when the only thing
I can think of what's wrong
with this time of year
is that it ends


and Winter begins

I am a heathen
who just went vegan
and now I have nothing to eat
I have nothing but juice
and now I'm reduced
to searching for food in the street
they found me at dawn
on somebody's lawn
seasoning the boots on my feet
and to my dismay
I heard the cops say
boots are not what vegans can eat!
help me.

As I stand beneath
this beautiful tree
I ask it's limbs
to hug me tender
and raise me up
so that I may see
the color of Autumn
in all it's splendor