the town had just come into view
as the western sky turned a brilliant blue
he pulled up alongside a prickly pear
lit up a stogie and rested his mare

how long will this beauty last
he'd wonder
the calm was hushed by distant thunder
no time to doddle
as the blue went gray
it's rollin' in fast
best be on our way

the echoes roll in the western sky
farmer's plea answered
by the Lord on high
let's pray for peace and the end of change
Our Heaven on earth
this open range

the slight movement of a Santa doll
in the corner of my eye
flickering light as I begin to doze
then a whisper or a sigh

a kitchen ceiling bulb cover
seven years without a peep
decides to loosen and shatter
as I lay fast asleep

heard the voice of a young man....Arthur
when I botched the last name at his stone
'my name is not Stickler, it's Strickler!'
he said in a mild mannered tone

He spoke a second time one year later
during a recording session in my den
clearly said my name...'Thomas'
as he flew left to right
and back again

I notice them when they visit
there-in lay the key
they notice when I notice them
the grateful dead
and me

the poet made his way through
the fog of memory
trying to find refuge in a phrase
that hides from him each day
each waking hour
and now
he has found it in his dreams
it reveals hazy clues
in glimpses of his past
life unfolding through back room windows
familiar faces that he met briefly
or perhaps just shared a smile
it lives within us all
and begs for our attention
the past is the sum of what we are
keep it close
allow it space
and your dreams will write the poem for you

this is the day I begin to feel old
the back is always sore
the knees are shot
the shoulder aches
my real teeth are down to four

a bout with cancer has taken its toll
but they caught it early so I shouldn't moan
what little strength that had remained
has left with my testosterone

my feet and toes are turning numb
my eyes are fading fast
it takes an act of congress now
to exercise my wrinkled ***

my memory now is headed south
it wasn't good to start
the only things I do more often
is eat, sleep and ****

but I'll be 70 come July
I really shouldn't *****
I've seen and done some crazy things
and I've yet to lose that itch!

my days go quickly
my nights are quiet
in a morbid kind of way
the mind
the body
less will to move
have led my hopes astray
so many things
that are left to do
are buried in my dreams
things that once were goals to me
have faded in the seams
when the memories begin to drift away
when the body is in decline
take me to the ocean's edge
and leave me to my final line

that smile from a distant moment
a moment in time
that burns forever in my dreams

my high school crush
that I let slip away
we shared poetry and laughter
but never love
for I had another
and did not recognize  
that she was the one
meant to be

how perfect it was
that smile
it was real
it was...emotion

fifty years later
and the smile I expected to see again
in other faces
other dreams
never came

love did light this darkened soul
and calmed the storm that raged
turned my heart toward peace and hope
it soothed the war that waged
beauty filled my eyes once more
ugliness turned its face
the cold that flow through vein to thought
did melt with one embrace

but the darkness shall return in time
the storm again will stir
the arms of war shall raise sublime
beauty become a blur
the cold will flow from heart to heart
our love shall freeze in pain
for I cannot shed the chill of darkness
it is born within the grain

you sparked the love
you fueled the light
with eyes so deep and warm
yet we must say goodbye
for I sense the calm
before the storm

was I not there for you my love
when the touch of night set in
when the smiles turned dark as storm clouds
and the nightmares would begin

your eyes were open
yet your heart would close
while the ghosts of childhood
come to prey
I tried to shield your soul from them
but the night is where they play

savage are the dreams that lived
in the heart and mind of my precious Eve
I'll find you in the light of day
when my nightmare takes its leave
where the ghosts that took you from me
cannot touch this sacred place
until that night
I'll feel you right
beside me

'it is not the language of painters
but the language of nature one should listen
to reach the perfectly articulated thought
in search of the lost chord
it disappears like foggy mist
in the wake of a rising Sun
the foggy mist of my decline

what a dream I had
if only I could show you

The big C
come to get me
like a snake in the grass
crawling quiet and slow
you begin to grow
taking small, sleeping victims
while I sleep
while I dream
but you made the mistake
that snakes often make
you bit off more than you could chew
I knew it was you
there is only one item now
on your menu
fire

the shadow knows my every move
he writes my dreams
as if to prove
his dominance

he's in my head
like a vagrant thought
a spider in my own web
I am caught

he's closer now
I sense the space
is measured in days
before he takes my place

she moves in light
while I'm awake
renders mercy
for hearts that ache

she waits in patient
silent hope
providing comfort
a cushion to cope

she has no thoughts
of giving in
slows my breath
when air gets thin

as I await
the final tide
she allows a glimpse
of the other side

she is the reason
this soul can rhyme
with every season
her gift of time

this is a true story about a spirit or spirits
he
or maybe she
or possibly both
or possibly more
let me know from time to time
that he, she or they are still here
I have heard many voices and seen many things
since I began recording them
it's as if I am sitting at the doorway to a meeting room
a meeting room of spirits
and this meeting room is in my home
I have filmed them...streams of orbs moving briskly
like a crowd at a rock concert hurrying to their seats
before the first song
one...a young male
I believe his name is Arthur
called my name as he passed over my head during a spirit box session
'Thomas'
he apparently was not happy being caught on camera
because within seconds of sending a copy of the video to a friend
a can of Lysol was thrown from underneath my bathroom sink against the wall
and my spirit box no longer functioned
this was 3 years ago
and they still let me know they are here
from time to time
in their various ways
I consider them my friends
I have yet to be harmed or frightened
I just think I noticed them
and they noticed that I noticed them

(last line borrowed from 'The Mothman Prophecies')

in the atmosphere
stratosphere
darkness that we do not fear
we find ourselves alone

where is it
that we visit
at night
this seamless ride on a stringless kite
our universe an endless flight
where time does not apply

we hit the bed and jolt awake
remember not our timeless break
a thousand years on a single snowflake
a blink in the cosmic realm

I returned from my second trip to Point Pleasant
much like the first
carrying back with me a feeling that I'd left somewhere I belonged
somewhere I had been before
not just once...but many times
perhaps I lived there
100...maybe 500 years earlier
things happen when I return home
the normal oddities that I experience
come rapidly and with more intensity
coincidences are rampant
and the spirit that makes itself known once in a while
becomes very active
a few mornings after my recent return
a glass light cover on the kitchen ceiling
managed to unscrew itself and crash to the floor at 5:00am
a few days later a 1990 ticket stub from a Paul McCartney concert
squirmed from the corner of a framed portrait of The Beatles
that I had hung on my dining room wall next to the table
it somehow bypassed the 6 inches of space between the edge of the table
and the wall...so it didn't merely fall...it leaped
and the numbers...yea, the numbers...111 and 1111
all the time...everywhere
I was watching a video on youtube about the JFK assassination
It was very well done and I was curious to see if it was receiving
a high number of views...when I checked...
his total views at that moment were
111,111

if you visit Point pleasant
stay at the Lowe Hotel
stop at the Mothman Museum
walk alongside the Ohio River and allow yourself to absorb the energy
that is Point Pleasant
and finally...say a prayer for the 46 souls that lost their lives when the Silver Bridge
collapsed in 1967

I once wrote of a grand hero who protected galaxies from would-be conquerors
the remnants of a single town on a single planet following it's self inflicted demise
I wrote of love
of dreams
and of ghosts
many things that few wish to discuss
we are merely shadows of ourselves in the 'real' world
or perhaps this is merely a warped perception I have
yet the only true solace I find
is here

poetry is a song without the music
'hello' while eyes are fixed
a dream we can remember
or a painting unseen during its inception
yet there for all to see

a silent movie

so I shall walk into the white
where all is clean
where all is bright
and leave to you the darkness
with words of silence to ease your plight

Three people I know very well
confided in me today
they won't mind leaving
when their time comes
this life
this place
has suddenly become a world of old souls
fighting to adjust to a world of cold souls
how did we get here?
a nightmare has unfolded before us
we've lied to each other for so long
to mask what we all knew was coming

Dear Lord how we have fouled your precious gifts
we are soon to be
hopelessly
forever lost

in a distant light I see clearly
faces smiling
tears of joy contagious
pristine skies and mountains in the distance
and I am with you
though I've yet to find you
hiding in the shadows of tomorrow

we share a walk
and submerge our love
into the crystal clarity of this quiet lake
alive in our joy
content in the beauty of our thoughts
and the knowledge that
someday we will awaken into this dream

the dead find me amusing
it's why they come around
they visit at their choosing
no time is out of bounds

they notice if you notice them
and there-in lay the key
they have no use for non-believers
or those who'd rather flee

once upon a gloomy night
I began a chat at 4am
this 100 year-old private school
that I protected
perhaps from them?

I rattled off the first few lines
of 'Roses are Red' down this long dark hall
and a spirit replied to his companion;
'He knows poetry' as if in awe!

The lone light flickered
and a chill rushed by
as I continued on my way

I had a good chuckle
and wished them well
we shall chat another day

In the shallows of time
I call to thee
When the weight of this burden I carry
Brings me ever closer to the edge
I seek darkness while the Sun serves
only to more clearly expose
my longing for solace
I know not how to reach you
But I sense you with every breath
Perhaps the next life will be ours
Speak to me once more while I slumber
That my heart may be renewed
That my longing be not in vain

I traveled through a littered sea
of fiery waves
and singed debris
of floating fish
and bloated whales
sinking ships
orange plastic pails

I washed upon a familiar beach
where many gasped but couldn't reach
I slept for hours and days it seems
my life went by in familiar dreams

at last I had awoken
and saw a man in ancient wear
he told me in a thought unspoken
'the day is new
I will see you there'

he vanished from my hazy sight
the shoreline now was clean
save for one unfortunate soul
who's clothes seemed oddly pristine

my thoughts were scattered
yet his voice was clear
'find this soul a resting place
and bury him with your fear'

who is this man I wondered
face down in sand and sea
I gently rolled him over
and discovered it was me

and so I search
again
it is still there
fading
unnoticed
into the otherwise glowing abyss
this incredibly beautiful
incredibly lonely universe
this dying star
from eons past
a silent twinkle of light
if we happen to be looking
but the cries go unheard

there once was a bullfrog named Lee
who decided to go on a spree
he hopped to his car
but didn't get far
seems he croaked
before turning the key

I know your dreams
for I am part of them
I walk between the folds of consciousness
you cannot see me
but you have come to know when I am near
from the moment you blinked in awe
upon your first vision of life
each day
my timeless purpose
your protector
the intricate weaving of hours
days
and years
those you have known
and those you shall come to know

the map of your life is written
and cannot be altered
when the day arrives
you will sense it
not in a flash
but rather a quiet whisper
I will be wishing you well
from this life
to the next

I've had this dream before
somewhere I've been
her face familiar
from long ago
our conversation guided by acquaintance
it moved along in black and white
we walked among old ruins
and buildings long since unoccupied
through rooms of faded paint and old portraits
their frames thick with dust
outside we strolled through what appeared to be
a family graveyard
she stopped
turned and said 'do not be afraid'
stepped away from a headstone which carried my name
'after this life we shall be together'
she kissed my cheek and I was awoken
by the thunder of an oncoming storm

the real poem is not in the words
but in the thought...
the well of feelings
in which it was created
the true painting
is not on the canvas
but in the vision...
the caverns of the conscious mind
the beauty of love
is not just a kiss, a smile, a touch...
but rather the moment
of it's inception

the poet, the artist
the creator unknown
all conspiring to bring
Life
to our thoughts

spirit calls my name as he passes overhead
child cries for mommy 400 years dead
silent disc over trees with faces alive
fireballs falling but never arrive
lights flicker in room 308
unseen occupant says the room is great
numbers , coincidence a daily routine
I've been touched in the dark
if you could see what I've seen
I am terrified and yet drawn near
my curiosity outweighs my fear
they watch me while I'm sleeping
from home to home they follow
they noticed that I noticed them
and without them I am hollow

tears drop from a thousand eyes
and wash the sidewalks clean
of filth
of blood
of desperate cries
gone silent with the dream
darkness lights the alleyways
where life is cheap as rust
needles lay in greasy puddles
rats feed on the crust
deeper we fall
into nightmares awoken
speak not of this if you live in the light
there are tears enough for that which is broken
just close your eyes
and sleep at night

their lights are dim on the horizon
two ships headed East
soft blue glow barely seen
from this vacant shoreline
random stars begin peeking
through the thinning cloud cover
in the remaining bit of light
ghost ***** scurry about
free of human interruption
the white crest of breaking waves
glimpses in the darkness
this is when the beach awakens
this is when I am at home
breathing the life of the sea