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Dec 2016 · 616
it will be some time
it will be some time
when I leave this mortal coil behind
before they discover the sack of bones
and translucent skin
a putrid puddle of mixed blood and body decay
and this is how I will be remembered
after 65, 70...maybe 75 years of absorbing
vast amounts of sideways smiles, false nods
and scripted ******* that our daily routines
have become
it will be some time
because I will choose to die alone
so those formalities are not required on a daily basis
those lies will not come automatic
on the rare occasions when I must
endure another of my own species
I am not built for small talk, chit chat
or breeze shooting
I am a tv with a few bad pixels
a record that skips
an oldie that you never quite knew the words to
I must have been born a second later than the universe had planned
because as normal as I once believed I was
something is off
just ask any other bot that has spent more than a week with me
it will be some time
because I think I may have gotten a larger dose of DNA
that ET is adding to our OJ
perhaps a test to see what would happen if they jumped the gun a bit
say 200 years
the neighbor called it in when she saw I hadn't left for work in a few weeks
or maybe a few months
gonna be hell cleaning these wooden floors
Dec 2016 · 658
after the fire
bitter cold morning
I start the car and await the heat
thoughts of you warm my heart
as the heater warms my feet
we refused to share our lives
beyond those indelible nights we dined
wasting not a precious moment as
our young hearts became entwined
in something we did not recognize
I cannot truly say
why the fire burned so quickly
why the embers weren’t enough
to make us want to stay
…and so we fell away
and live now in each memory’s corner
for these moments to replay
Dec 2016 · 469
darkness becomes me
darkness becomes me
it's silence and lack of clarity
it's empathy from whispered voices
when the dead come to visit
I sleep only in small doses
my own screams awaken me to moving shadows
and the chill of their presence
dazed knowledge of being touched
which I dismiss when the Sun arrives
yet the darkness becomes me
in a sordid kind of way
I muddle through the vacant day
smiling when I want to plea
for anyone to look and see
that I await the coming night
with urgency to dim the light
like an actor's role he cannot put down
or the painted smile of a dying clown
there is nothing more odd
yet meant to be
a fixture in this darkness
that so becomes me
Dec 2016 · 309
doubt
I don't know why I doubted you
that Washington set in motion Pearl Harbor
before it blew
or that LBJ had Kennedy killed
and that nothing  happened at the Gulf of Tonkin
you were there too
on a boat on the Hudson
with a bird's eye view
when the Twin Towers fell
in on itself
not one, not two
but the first 3 to ever do so
ain't that a clue
Eisenhower warned us
Kennedy too
before they took off his head
for us all to see
that peace on Earth
was not meant to be
that war is the game that must endure
yet we are the cream
we are the pure
tell me tell me
tell me more
what does the future have in store
is there a man who can rid us of rampant sin
from the bowels of our nation
destroy evil from within?
there is such a man
there are many in fact
but the journey is treacherous
the obstacles great
and no man has managed to make it his fate
for evil has hold of all that we see
all that we touch is poisoned by thee
the churches, the judges, the men in black suits
have given their souls
abandoned their roots
what we saw on the horizon just moments away
died a nation's hope that November day
so why do you question me year after year?
because the weapon of evil
is to doubt what we fear
Dec 2016 · 312
the line
Quiet whispers from the awaiting sinners
as Johnny receives his penance
4 Hail Marys and 2 Our Fathers
are delivered by Father Edwards
in the customary harsh manor
to Johnny Watson
'he's been in there a long time!
musta' got caught peekin' on his sister takin' a shower!'
giggles echoed off the walls of Saint Ignatius and for a second
I thought I saw Jesus himself slightly raise his head and frown in displeasure
'Shhhhush!' came the immediate response from the pews behind us
filled with the loyal disciples who commit every Sunday morning and more
to God and his church

I was no altar boy
nor did I want to be
but the Catholic church was my guiding light you might say
it was the line between me and those mortal sins
the line that punched God should you cross
but when they wouldn't come to see my mother when she had a stroke…
(they said they didn't do that anymore)
after giving 10% of her hard earned dollars for years and years,
that line began to fade
they took her seed but returned no fruit
they fed her sermons, but disappeared in her darkest hours
left her without a line to her God
without a sinless hand to hold as she was about to journey
to her awaiting Heaven

this gave me grave doubts about the church
made me question it's motives, it's meaning
it's value

then one day I discovered that priests were molesting  young children in droves
the Cardinal used the Catholic church's power
to move them from parish to parish  
like unwanted guests
instead of sending them to prison
the treachery
innocent children ***** and scarred forever
in the very house of God
by those in whom they placed their trust

when the sacred **** finally hit the fan
the Cardinal was called to Rome by the Pope
this was his punishment

I believe in God
I seek his guidance not through the church
and I fear for the children who's line has disappeared
Nov 2016 · 536
lies
I grapple with the everyday
nothing smooth
a sumo wrestler on ice skates
a one armed juggler
a 4 eyed ******
the muck and slime
that passes for normal
has overtaken my well
climbed my wall
I'm unfit to fit
too unscrewed to view
through a filtered lens
don't smile at me when you pass
but stop and ask what the **** is wrong with you
wake me up
and maybe I'll speak
maybe I'll peek around the corner this time
to see how high the **** has gotten
to see my childish dreams forgotten
and buried in the lies
that I've become
Nov 2016 · 354
eternal
as the last of the thorns are removed from my hand
and the blood congeals like pudding on a stove
and the heart slows to a methodical beat
of one resigned to the approaching day
the sound of still darkness is deafening
stars stare in mock silence
taunting me as they defer to the moon
'her moon' as she called it
how she grieved over the death of its secrets
more so than the coming death of our own
beautiful
secret
which breathed in the magic of the darkness
and found us together
always
in each other's light
as the Sun approached

I drop these roses here
you would always say it was such a waste
'flowers for my love'
but your eyes would not lie
Nov 2016 · 543
Remember November
I remember how November began
too many late shifts for this old man
pulling up and over Pine Grove Mountain
in the early morning hours

mist and a frightening silence along the roads
were following me
I shivered half cold and half fear as I reached to add some heat  
and when I looked back
he was standing in my lane
beast of a buck
white as snow
majestic
broad shoulders to accommodate his massive rack
staring me down
head raised proudly in the second before I swerved
the second that cost me my life
as I was held transfixed in his beauty

I rose above the trees and viewed my crumpled jeep
on its head
tires still spinning
the beast still eyeballing me as I slid into the ether

It is December now
and I watch as my kids open their gifts for the first time without me
they are older and their hearts will heal before the coming of Spring
Nov 2016 · 741
in the name of hate
How does one learn not to hate
after facebook shows me a group of teenage thugs
savagely pull an old man from his car
and proceed to kick and sucker punch him
under the guise of who he voted for
if that were the reason
then why did they pick up everything that he
dropped on the ground and place it in their pockets?
How can someone be classified as a human being
that commits such an inhumane act upon a fellow human
I contemplate what I would do if I were there
to witness this cowardly attack
I could not stand by and watch as it appears
bystanders did
My stomach is in knots
my heart is thumping like a train
in my contempt for these cowards
these pathetic individuals who swarm like wolves
not in the name of survival
but in the name of hate
when I think our species might be progressing
I see such disgusting behavior and feel years of progress
were only a mirage
Nov 2016 · 609
there are no dreams here
there are no dreams here
they are but fragments of thought
dismissed and abandoned to the wilderness
of our imaginations
to intersect or collide
perhaps hundreds or thousands at a time
to create some kind of patchwork mosaic of
tossed millisecond ideas and flashes of imagery
that have nowhere to go
these are not dreams
a vast wasteland of connected disconnected energy
of the mind

last night we walked together
and discovered our shared love of art
and ghosts
while the world slept
while I slept
I later met you in a book store
where we paged through Vangogh prints
and discussed the peculiarities of  'The Smoking Skull'
I awoke to a beautiful Sun and for a few joyous seconds…thought to
call you

there are no dreams here
Oct 2016 · 480
addicted to the word
when the last line is written
when the last rhyme is pulled from the bowels of that…
place
when the brain burn and the message is to my liking for now
i will return to the folded arms comfort of night
pick out a star and float to it
sleep

unlike the wicked warmth of tequila
or *******'s almost passive attempts to own me
the word is my true addiction
the insidious hold it has
drawing me in
calling to me every waking moment
i fear the whispers will not end in death
and i shall face an eternity living the nightmare
of an incomplete batch of words
that hold the key to my missing life
Oct 2016 · 306
last lover
the last lover leaves
before dawn
before the necessity of conversation
stale coffee reheated
brings the numbing thought that this was your last chance
old man
there's nothing left
no slivers of heart to give away
no whispers in the dark that clever lovers say
you can no longer dance with brittle bones
your game has left you
and they were all games
were they not?
until the last sliver

now walk the shoreline as you always do
when they leave
and ponder the idea of love
inspired by Denel Kessler's 'Season's End'
Oct 2016 · 282
not alone
it is truly sobering
what life has to offer
once one begins to listen
begins to search
begins to accept
what our senses are telling us
it is there for us to explore
and oh
how I have explored these last few years

when the doubts have subsided
we can enter this illuminating world
we can touch the other side
hear the voices of the past that are not chained by time
observe those that observe us from afar

this is the life I have come to know
phenomenon within my grasp
the unbridled certainty
the crystalline clarity
the cleansing freedom that comes with the knowledge
that we are not alone
Oct 2016 · 640
what a fool
I am numb with morphine
and the shadows are moving in from the edges
like ghosts awaiting my final slumber
but the mind
in its final stages
in its final pulse of energy
begs to go back
to the night I paused
when you pleaded for clarity
where our lives were headed
did I love you
and I refused to crumble under your tears

I lost you somewhere between blind cowardice
and my detached heart
all the while searching for a reason
not to love you as I did

the thought of you could come at any moment
and stayed with me as clearly as
this final vision I hold now
what a fool I was
what a pitiful fool
Sep 2016 · 360
where seasons bend
beyond the curve where seasons bend
I take your hand and walk the mend
the fields shine gold and clouds pretend
to rain...
then lift away
within this dream a loosened seam
inside this heart we never part
for here we mend where seasons bend
and together drift away
Inspired by my dear friend; Alisa JS
Sep 2016 · 1.0k
slightly stoned
being of sound mind and body
I must write of the days when I was slightly ******
when I would disappear into the beautiful abyss
with headphones
'Dark Side of the Moon'
or 'I Robot' taking me on journeys
only I could take
my room the isolation tank
from 'Altered States'
my mind the well that echoed within
the sitar vibrations of an unspoken thought
my dreams the night before realized in a wave
of painted sound
and when the consciousness of awake
and the boundless landscape of sleep
fused with the lost chord
one was as close as one could be to God
on this plane
Sep 2016 · 323
healer
she moves too slow
while I'm awake
yet renders mercy
for hearts that ache
she waits in patient,
silent hope
providing light
on this slippery *****

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

and as you await
the final tide
she'll grant you a glimpse
of the other side

there is no healer
I give more faith
no more a reason
this soul can rhyme
for night and day
for every season
I cherish this gift
of time
Sep 2016 · 572
silent scenes
I had hoped
as I had many times before
that it would not come
but the night would eventually depart
like the thousand friends I believed I had
vanishing like the shine of new paint over the course of time
sleep is better spent in daylight as the machine rolls mercilessly
over the depleting consciousness of those lingering desperate souls
and when the machine rests
I awaken
to roam the silent scenes and landscapes of the unbound thought
the minds well
this holy realm of darkness
Sep 2016 · 451
until the end my friend
the days seem shorter
as I draw near the end of those scheduled for me
these 9 to 5's
few surprises await as the routine becomes routine
fewer goodbyes
fewer laughs
fewer cries
and fewer smiles
funny how you notice what the children do not
that they are drifting into their lives
further from yours
but this is the pattern
the destiny of the aging soul

to bed early
comedies aren't as funny
baseball seems less relevant
the aches are more and the heart is growing cold
wrapped in the pain of indifference
I will miss the sound of that alarm
and the need to move
but I shall always have the Sun
and the Sea
to harvest a few words now and again
Sep 2016 · 463
blue tomorrow
grey dusk
and blue tomorrow
fade to black
then back to sorrow
take my heart
but never borrow
this love is all but spent
Aug 2016 · 949
Firestorm
they roll in like storms
upon a quiet shore…
these memories
unforgiving in their clarity
yet i protect them
nurture them
your twisted, unwavering distrust
enveloped me in it's pain
and fed your misguided cruelty
i lived to enable you
for a glimpse of love
would appear from the shadows
in those rare, quiet nights
when you allowed yourself to love me
the few moments i remember
being alive
Aug 2016 · 8.7k
brown shoes
Home bound after work
near 12:30 am
just a few minutes from checking my email
then retiring
as us old folks like to call it

from the North side of route 7
at a slight angle
there and gone in half a second
was the biggest meteor I've ever seen
if that's what it was
so big that I slowed and listened for a boom
but nothing came
I have no idea how far it went before touching down
but this isn't about the meteor
this is about the fact that when I got home
and thought about who I would tell...
there was no one that came to mind
I've seen so much crazy **** in my life
that the stories have grown old
even the new ones
I breathed life into a dead woman one morning
then faced the fact that I couldn't save another
hit by a truck on my way home
just after midnight

on the day before the great Russian meteor
I saw 2 objects in the sky on fire
and not moving...
in broad daylight
I've been touched and spoken to
by spirits or ghosts or phantoms
take your pick
I saw 3000 people sacrificed in the name of what?
and as a child I witnessed a president murdered by those supposed to follow him
I've grown to see the young know nothing of that last President who actually had a vision and a spine

and when I quietly leave this life
there will be little to note...
a brief glance
of my obituary
by a few sad souls

I often think of a quote I heard as a young man
by a comedian; George Gobel
who was on the 'Tonight Show'
Dean Martin and Bob Hope were also on that show
and unknown to George, Dean was flipping his cigarette ashes
in George's drink as he was telling his humorous stories
this caused the laughs to come out of sequence...and finally a confused George said; 'Did you ever feel like the world was a tuxedo and you were a pair of brown shoes?'
Aug 2016 · 444
static
they beckon me
they whisper as I sleep
touch my shoulder
with unseen fingers
sending waves of dead static through my soul
the after
the in-between
the remaining energy
reaching for some connection
to their mortal coil
they find solace in my belief
a ground for their whispering pulse
the remnants of a soul once lived
the static that refuses to leave
completely
just now upon completing this piece at 2:00 am, I heard unexplained noises in my kitchen which I have my back to. not sure if they approve or disapprove the piece...but they have certainly made their presence known to me...
Jul 2016 · 725
Late Nights in Rodanthe
it is early morning at the beach
1:12 am to be exact
everyone else has gone beddy bye
and I can't sleep yet
because this is my time
where I live and breathe and think
without others doing the same and talking about it
all I can see through the sliding glass balcony door
is a liberty gas station across the street playing elevator
music at the pumps and selling insurance
that saves you 415 dollars a year
it's too cloudy to look for UFO's and the sherbert has all been eaten
so I decided to write something
I've reminded everyone what a nut case I am
hearing spirits and ripping politicians a new one
were pretty much my topics of conversation
I will say this...my sister's tacos were amazing
they over shop every year but **** they can cook

it's almost 1:30 and they will be rattling the breakfast dishes by 8
so I better get my crotchety old *** in bed
******* better get here early in the morning to fix
the **** washing machine
I only brought 3 pair of underwear

now
let me get started on this life changing poem
it is early morning at the beach...
okay...so it ain't Shakespeare...
Jul 2016 · 668
lifting of the veil
a very thin veil
divides the living and the dead
a very tight thread

this I discovered in the depths of night
when she turned out the light
to pit fear against will

if you wither from thee
you will hear not her plea
in the softest of voice
'I hear you '

a whisper of a whisper
within the whisper of sighs
believer I am as I feel her eyes
upon me

light was returned
my nerve tested and worn
soul beautifully stirred
this night I was born

as the veil was lifted
events surrounding my first evp capture...a memorable experience to say the least
the memories
at least those pre - incept date
are presented in shuffle mode
designed to initiate during down time
when heart rate slows
less random and more vivid than human
Roy had no idea
until now
that he could very well be dying
he seemed to be thinking outside the realm
of typical replicant query

why were his dreams ending before completion
his ravenous appetite diminishing
his fixation with the moon now fading

death comes quickly to the replicant
no long suffering illness
many humans must face
the clock stops ticking
and the implants die first
leaving the final few moments
all his, all Roy

were his tears
like his memories
lost in rain
perhaps his most human trait
is revealed in his final moments
the acceptance of death
amid the realization he had lived
Jun 2016 · 1.1k
it's just the wind
I can see it all so clear
as the wind from the oncoming storm
ravages the trees on the Northern side of the mountain
as if trying to uproot them

I gaze from above on Bear's Den
as Connor Brooks tries to finish the mowing
on his 40 acres and Molly's cries for him
to get inside before dinner gets cold
echo upwards in waves
beautiful waves

The Village Market
serves the last few customers
before closing up for the evening
Birdman, Mike and Fuzzy,
all friends since high school
are stopping at the Horseshoe Curve
for a glass or three
while discussing their shared memories

and of-course
Sarah...scurrying to get the clothes off the line
before the downpour
unaware her every sensual move is being watched
by the unlucky poet
who didn't quite grasp the moment
and reap the harvest
that lay there awaiting his attention
so many years have passed


timing never was something that seemed to fall my way
always seemed to be a day behind
realizing what I should have done
the day before
most things you get over
most missed chances eventually dissolve into the blur of life
like a bruise

Sarah never dissolved
never blurred

she hesitates for a moment after picking up the basket of clothes
as if she heard a far off voice call her name

it's just the wind
Jun 2016 · 715
into the white
the air hit my face like a slap to a helpless child
cold and unrelenting
like every morning as I leave before the Sun is up
I wanted to say something before starting the long drive
I turned but could think of nothing
perhaps there was nothing to say
perhaps it no longer mattered

eighteen inches fell last night
a Winter Wonderland here in the mountains
I may see the children before they sleep tonight
or I may miss them as I often do
traffic and that silent road have numbed me

snow has begun falling again
thick and oddly quiet
like the ravings of a mad man on tv
with the volume turned down
funny how wonderfully creative the mind becomes
moments before sanity escapes

just as I had nothing to say
when I began this typical Tuesday
I again have no rhyme
no verse
no connection to reality
as I flatten the pedal
and disappear into the white
Jun 2016 · 460
are you entertained?
frame by frame i sit and view
the story unfold like a gentle sigh
or a savage scream
spellbound in this intoxicating isolation
carried from my mundane truth
i fuse with the flickers and sounds
that emanate from this giant looking glass
igniting emotions long departed from this life
what a wondrous thing it is
to be moved by lights and words
woven in a veil of music
taken away for just a brief time
to live another's story
as the credits roll
as the lights fade in
and the picture fades out
i turn my collar
head into the cold night
to play the scene from which i escape
every now and again
re-post
Jun 2016 · 578
abyss
the wind that howls in the deepest night
is a comforting sound
the dog that moans at the earliest light
is a soulmate found
I abhor the thought of wistful bliss
of nervous laughter unprovoked
I slip into my warm abyss
this sea of pain on which I choke
I wade in pools of sought despair
while others seek their mothers
I dance on floors of rotted wood
and sing to ghosts of lovers
I find it my salvation
to document this pain
to analyze the demons
and revel in the rain
perhaps one day I'll leave this place
and walk into the Sun
to face the light of happiness
content my deed is done
re-post
Jun 2016 · 5.7k
the dig
I am prey to the unyielding Sun
here in this open field
void of shade
holding precious pieces
untouched for 140 years
200 acres of Virginia farmland beneath my feet
where bullets flew
where strong men screamed
and the soil looked as if it had rained blood
death can come quickly or painfully slow

A soldier rips the Eagle breastplate from his chest
and throws it to the ground where I am standing
and here in the sweltering heat
of a calm June afternoon
I pull it from its resting place
no longer shining
140 years removed
from the failing heart
beneath it
re-post
Jun 2016 · 462
whispers in the dark
each night they come
tapping on the wall
voices in the hall
laying their hands on my shoulder

is it touching life that they need
will they follow me til' death
will they covet my last breath
growing weak as I grow older

what awaits my simple soul
will they welcome me with tears
will I wander lost for years
in a realm where hearts are colder

what light you let me see
I know you'll wait for me
I set my spirit free
to the whispers in the dark
re-post
Jun 2016 · 420
divine wind
Solemn faces hold their wrath
forewarned the day would come
silent fell their thoughts of fear
no match for hearts turned numb
they walk together this final day
as one a stoic mass
no smiles, no hope, no words to say
tears lip blades of grass
in the hills they settle
the hour draws near
time to tell children they are loved
a faint breeze is blowing
the Sun shining clear
birds swoop and chatter above
there are moments of reflection
before it is done
eyes towards the heavens do peer
a thud in the distance
a cloud chokes the Sun
it is only the silence they hear
hands are joined and heads are hung
to pray for their rebirth
spirits seek the light of God
in their final day on earth
re-post
Jun 2016 · 540
near death
I have been near enough to death
to know it well
its unwavering dispassion
its unflinching reality

as I breathe into her
and hear the sound of empty lungs
it has ripped all the curtains I had sewn
all the false smiles and pat answers
a lifetime of rehearsed dialogue and robotic gestures

I was now naked before myself
and the lies that became me
now face me
and dissolve
Jun 2016 · 252
The Greatest
float like a butterfly
sting like a bee
may you rest in peace
Muhammad Ali
Boxing reached it's pinnacle with Ali - Frazier and Ali - Foreman. It's never been close since those fights and likely never will be. Ali, though his record at the end may not reflect it, was the greatest boxer ever. strong, fast and smart. How he absorbed Foreman's body shots and had enough in the tank to knock him out, I'll never now...but somehow he did it. He was truly an amazing fighter and at his best in the early years. Watch the Liston fights and you'll see what I mean. RIP Mr. Ali
Jun 2016 · 304
the other side
I will enter this dream
as I enter a room of ghosts
with curiosity overriding my fear
with less time to protect
the darkness becomes my haven
the voices I cannot see
are now my friends
and the other side
opens to me a veil of unseen light
do not fear the death of flesh and bone and blood
but rather embrace the mind, soul and heart
that guides you even as you breathe
it will live forever
and life as we know it is only the beginning
of its ultimate beauty
re-post
May 2016 · 742
I miss the future
I miss the future
when, if I wanted to see you
I just beamed myself from my dark room
to your waiting arms
we walked for hours along the coastline
where California use to be
of-course our feelings changed a bit
when we learned we were not truly of this earth
but brought from another dying planet
some several thousand years ago
but it was still so much better than the now
when we ****** our own presidents
and sacrifice lives in wars that we start

an old spirit who I passed on the trail of tears
spoke to me in my sleep
he told me that the future was only a dream
and to prepare myself for the end
I asked him how
and he turned back and said
'pray to the souls that your people have vanquished
that they forgive your sins
you spit in the face of mother earth
and cut her breath to make room for cows and pigs
so that you may gorge
you sacrifice your brothers in the name of false Gods
and your leaders fatten themselves off the sweat of their own
with no regard for all man's lifeblood
you took this precious gift and threw it away
and now
even in the face of death
you squabble like spoiled children
ignoring the inevitable
so pray that your children will not face the final day
for it will be fire'
and with that he turned and
I awoken...

****...8:30
late for work!
re-post
May 2016 · 302
shade
Poor, sheltered, witless child
floundering under Mother's cloak
shadows hide you
keep you safe
from life
to eventually drown you
in that sad, blank smile
walk with me
my beloved
I will protect you
yet ease you
I will open you to the light
and give meaning to your tears
absorb my love
sense my anger
share my life
leave her somber
selfish shade
re-post
what a wonderful coincidence to discover that when I look up  
one of my two favorite words
threshold
it is linked to my other favorite word
phenomenon
but my life is laced with coincidence
my third favorite word
they happen daily
like itches

for instance,
today I did a wikipedia search for Ezra Pound
because my poetry student daughter fell in love with one of his pieces
I find that from 1945 to 1958
Mr Pound was incarcerated at St Elizabeth's Psychiatric Hospital in Washington D.C. after being found incompetent to stand trial
for treason against the United States
my father worked at St Elizabeth's hospital for 30 years
including the 12 that Mr. Pound was a patient
my father, who kept his poetry hidden in a little black book

I have a vision of him
young at the time
enamored with the 60 plus year-old poet
seeking him out and finding him
resting outside at one of the tables
enjoying the simplicity and intricacies of nature
and perhaps they have a chat about poetry...
my father having a chat with Ezra Pound
70 years before his granddaughter falls in love
with one of his poems
a poem already written and filed away somewhere in the memory of a once beloved poet

threshold: the magnitude or intensity that must be exceeded for a certain reaction, phenomenon, result or condition to occur or be manifested.
“nothing happens until the signal passes the threshold”
Many thanks to Jamadhi verse, who's poem 'Threshold' ispired this piece and to my daughter Jenna who discovered Ezra Pound
May 2016 · 346
enlightened
If you knew the depth of my disbelief
then you would know the reason
I walk in shadows

all the truths that pass as lies
and misconceptions
feeble minds dream you see
in subtle nudgings off the grid

the comfort of the unaware
is a sharp stick in my side
I must tell these truths in bloodied tongue
for even a feigned look
holds some comfort

when the smirks subside
in the holy bliss of truth
I will have long left the great lie
I will have watched from the shadows
with my children and my children's children
as it unfolds like Sunlight upon the shadowed moon

enveloping the enlightened souls
the few that remain
May 2016 · 380
dripping mascara on cue
Beyond the box his victims applaud
the enemy smiles and takes his bow
behind his smirk there breathes a fraud
the devil dressed in praise of thou
he snares their hearts should they be weak
those seeking to control their fate
a purchased path to lead the meek
to a matrix God through the neon gate
with hands outstretched he pleads and grins
sells salvation like drugs and mocks their sins
will promise eternity in the holy light
call the number on your screen
you are saved tonight
re-post
May 2016 · 477
slave
father, brother
4th son of mother

followed, observed
DNA preserved

hybrid, thinning
since the beginning

children moreso
narrowing torso

paralyzed, disrobed
scooped and probed

flashes, voices,
there are no choices

human emotion
what they crave

that's what it is
to be a slave
last line is Roy's
May 2016 · 10.6k
A most insightful man
George Carlin's wife died early in 2008 and George followed her, dying in July 2008. It is ironic George Carlin - comedian of the 70's and 80's - could write something so very eloquent and so very appropriate. An observation by George Carlin:

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways, but narrower viewpoints. We spend more, but have less, we buy more, but enjoy less. We have bigger houses and smaller families, more conveniences, but less time. We have more degrees but less sense, more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems, more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values. We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life. We've added years to life not life to years. We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We conquered outer space but not inner space. We've done larger things, but not better things.

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul. We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice. We write more, but learn less. We plan more, but accomplish less. We've learned to rush, but not to wait. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion, big men and small character, steep profits and shallow relationships. These are the days of two incomes but more divorce, fancier houses, but broken homes. These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to ****. It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you, and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete.

Remember to spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be around forever.

Remember, say a kind word to someone who looks up to you in awe, because that little person soon will grow up and leave your side.

Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn't cost a cent.

Remember, to say, 'I love you' to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you.

Remember to hold hands and cherish the moment for someday that person will not be there again.

Give time to love, give time to speak! And give time to share the precious thoughts in your mind.

And always remember, life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by those moments that take our breath away.
after some research...it appears this may not belong to Mr. Carlin...so forgive me for not digging a bit earlier. Especially, my sincere apology to George!
May 2016 · 813
Nosferatu
Exceeding the passion of these most love torn dreamers
he languishes in the glow of his millionth Sunset
then vanquishes the dreams of his millionth soul
a paradox
lover of night
taker of life
Nosferatu
walks silent and alone
living not by minutes, days or years
the pros and cons
of never-ending life on earth
the ecstasy and the terror of immortality
to never die
to never love
for to love a mortal
is to watch her succumb to the ravages of time
and human time
is but a blink
she curls into a quiet sleep
and dreams of Sunrise
he kisses her upon the cheek
and cries to the moon
re-post
May 2016 · 410
hypnotized
there
in the pause
somewhere between sleep and awake
between night and dawn
the shadows move
and the voices begin
is it in my head
or just another reality
am I home or just visiting
what is real and what is imagination

I drop like a sack
off the back of a truck
and hit the mattress
felt like a dream
had me hypnotized

(RIP: Bob Welch)
https://youtu.be/8ZeTlMpnfHk
May 2016 · 292
I found lost
I found lost
in the symmetry of her diamond eyes
my soul
re-post
May 2016 · 375
impetus
in the sanctity of sanity
is where I now aspire
as years
and my humanity
insist that I conspire
to find a hole
in vanity
and breathe what I inspire
until the words
drip from my veins
and sanctify this fire
re-post
May 2016 · 314
Hayden
Hayden meticulously shaves his blisters once they callous
and keeps them in a bell jar that he dug
in another jar he keeps the prizes
Civil War bullets, badges and buttons
observing at all angles until falling asleep well past midnight
he watches the skies and remembers each star's place at 10:00 o'clock
and compares them by month
listens for voices in the white noise of his pocket radio
his face a stoic sculpture
hours on end in his hoodie and ear buds
on the hill that oversees Chalmers Lake

Hayden will eat quickly of necessity and return to his rituals
silent
he will watch the disturbances along the water
every firefly, every fish that glances the surface
no voice, no smile, no connection to us
yet deep behind the eyes, the stares, the static energy
there is something magnificent taking place
something we will never be allowed to see or feel
something beautiful
re-post
May 2016 · 292
haven
Walk with me this frozen field
of ever-changing likeness
faces affixed in ghost-like stares
sorrow screams silent from their eyes

Elude with me the coming dawn
which harbors only darkness
cast a shield of sanity
in shadows rich of hue

We will bathe in passions light
time removed from our thought
forever lost
forever found
re-post
May 2016 · 718
Joker
I bought a Joker bobblehead at an antique store
it bobbled it's head as I went out the door
it bobbled and turned  
and with a laugh it said
get me out of this box *****
or I'll slice off your head
I turned right around
went back in the store
and asked for a refund
of $11.54 - including tax
I'm sorry she said
no refunds given here
now you're stuck with that *****
may God help you my dear
he's carved and beheaded
every Woody in my collection
he set fire to Buzz Lightyear
and gave Barbie a c-section
he's the devil himself
inside that bobbin' head
you'd better unload him
or soon you'll be dead
before she could put the closed sign on the door
I heard the feet of the Joker as they hit the floor
now you've done it she moaned
we've lost his *** now
I'm taking lunch
so find him somehow
before I could think of what my game plan would be
a voice, and a bob, bob, bob  from behind laughed at me
'10.99 for the Joker plus tax!?'
and I turned just in time to catch Daniel Boone's ax
between the eyes!
re-post
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