The Words that were Lovingly Penned
Met with a Razor edged Knife in the End
Letters Scattered Askew, unable to defend

Red Slashes across the Body Slowly Bleed
Broken pieces of Sentences all Strewn indeed
That Final Feeling You have Surrendered

God I hate having meetings with the editor...JMF 2/14/15

Sleep Stalks Me, through the day
Hypnotizing Me, in its own way
Nodding Off, in seconds lost
Wasted Moments, lost time, the Cost

Achievements to work through
While I have such things to do.....
The Alarm Goes off, and I sleep through
Burdened by My mind persued.

By the chemicals within my brain
Leaving me feel totally drained
A good night Sleep, I do desire
With Medical Help, I will Aquire


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lost echo's of past speeches
into the silence reaches
deaf ears worn and tired
of pundits recently expired
cut by the votes not acquired
phrases left uninspired, to
levy the taxes required, for
visions  of  political  spires
the confetti and ballots left
of the candidate now bereft
the slogans all slaughtered
by means of political machines
as the campaigns death left
a soliloquy of silence


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Speaking to Dragons is oft' absurd
Quite Frequently they don't  
understand a word                                                             ­                                                 
they snort and blow  Because you know  
They will only listen to Dragons tales
they lower their heads and sigh,                                                            ­                                                                 ­   
to hear of kings,with Golden Wings    
that ruled Against the Sky
Dragons Crowned Above the ground                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­          
Against a Sky of Azure Blue,    
Where Royal Dragon Kings Flew, and with                          
Terror and Fear for when they were near    
All knew to do their Biddings Bane      
Or feel the whip of brimstone flame    
more and more they became bejeweled        
Till to the Sky they Could Nor Rule    
and Fires hot became now cool
And in the End they lost the Fire    
Having Chained themselves to their own Desire    
The listening beast shed one single Tear
.........................JMF 10/21/2014

Out in the West, a Tale is told
By Wise weathered Indians of old,
Passed down as a Shamans Tale
It told of Guardian Spirits...

For Our Mother Earth and Father Sky
On Sacred Lands only reverent pass by
Those with Selflessness Come through
To pray to Mother Earth and Father Sky

Give thanks for Brother Sun and Sister Moon
Some that the rite goes back to ancient eons
Brought by the Anasazi to all his Children
In praise for what they were given.....

A wanderer Came upon these Sacred lands
With ****** in his heart, and blood on his hands
Father Sky sent his Spirit Hawk as Guard on the Land
His cry in the Sky reached the ears of the Wolf Spirit

A pile of bleached Bones the angry man came upon
The Gaurdian Wolf Spirit Howled out a Warning
As the Man's Spirit broke the Sacred Circle
Bounding the Bear Spirit came to ****

His Claw reached in and took the Hatred from his Heart
But without it the Man lost his Spirit and Began to Die
His death quick but not alone, he landed on a pile of bones
With his Companions He lay, til the day he was just bone dry...JMF

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CEO's buy Corporate **'s with
Shareholders Financial Invested Stock Portfolios

Minutes passing
Continual Eyeing
Pulse pumping
Heart Jumping

Fingers Tapping
Clock Watching
Vision Scanning
Anxiety Climbing

Clock Stopping
Sudden Stabbing
Heart Bleeding
Joy Fleeing

Thoughts Cauterizing
Time Healing
Well they weren't worth it
Anyway..............................JMF 10/11/14

First time I stood On a corner
With a 6 String Yamaha and
A Marine Band Hoerner
Laying Down the Harmony
And bending the Blues.

Playing Some Neil Young
Blowing that Harp and
Singing that Song, it was
A Late March morning
And my fingers were Numb

Cold drizzle kept me Company
People stopped and listened
Tossed some cash in my Case
Headed off out of the Cold in Haste

I broke into the Rolling Stones
"You Cant Always Get What you Want"
I was just trying to get what I need...
Some Awesome long Hairs tossed in bills
Headed down to Taco Grande, got My Fill

Fat Bean Burrito, extra cheese and Onions
Wrapping My fingers around a Paper Cup,
The sweet Black Coffee warmed me up
Nineteen Feels like the King of the World

That Guitar Led to warmer Days, with
With Blushed cheeked Coeds Litin' a Jay
Down on the Lakes edge, Ended up laid

Those Songs and the Guitar Fed me for 2 years
And Much Later People would rush up
And Say "Do you Still play" remembering
the Harmonies Echoed, Between the Buildings
And drifting up the street, I have no Idea Who

Ten Thousand Passed by in the rain and the sun
But the song played on and never was Done
Kinda like Alice"s Resturant, they waited
To see if I remembered it all 20 minutes long.

Of all the Music, the one that paid the best
Was Arlo's Song, Time to strike a Match
And Light the ****....

Summer Heat...
It ripples off the Street
Like a Mirage of the Sea
Soccer ***** and the Voice
Of Mexican Children...

All shreaking at the Sound
Of the Ice Cream Vender
With Cold Treats coming around
The hum of thousands of AC's
Like the Swarming buzz of Bees

Working hard to keep their Cool
Hoses like green Snakes Coil
Sprinkler Heads Hissing
Their Message to the Grass
Rumble of a Harley Rolling by

Breaks the stillness of the heat
Its only Summertime........
On an American Street.....

Ten Words are so Aligned
To Flow into your Mind....

The eradical emphatical
Disolution of the Conclusion
That X to the Zero power equals 1
Chalk Boards full of Chalk Dust
Ensues the theory of this single Interger
And Zero with the Power of 1 in Binary Union
Based Code Creates the Language of
Computer Programming

I wonder if they Have poetry In this Language
or are they just Bots, Boosting Bits Per Second
or Was it Third MicroSoft Word by Bill Gates...
the Thought Passes in a Nanosecond
Trying to get to First with The Big new
4G Electronic Sirens of the economy
that washes up on the Shores of China

The Blue Nile is a Local Club
It Hosts the Poets Groove,
A Late Night spoken Poet event
That is the culture of the Smooth.

Desdamona The queen of the Poetry Scene
Hosted a Cool MC there for Years
Poets, Hip Hoppers and Rappers
All Gathered here bringing there words

Hip hop, Rappers, and Poets Hang
For that Late Night Poets Reading
The House band lays down your Music
Background as you perform the Speaking

The band can do from Jazz to Rap
They latch on to the feel and beat
Your doing your Reading replete
With the musical blendings complete

On the Stage with your Words
For an audience that heard
It gives you an incredible feeling
the Applause makes it all worth Dealing

I've seen Street Rappers Lay it down
Hip Hoppers with Singer Backgrounds
Girls with Love Poems, Feeling Alone
For a Poet its the best show around


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To Harvest the Wheat of America.......

Oak, ash and hickory, raw from the saw
Ten thousand board Feet, Delivered
Fourteen foot long some 16 inches Wide

I helped plane all that wood,
When I was Just a boy, load after load
In the Time, I was just growing a spine

By 7th Grade I had, From how I was grown
"Long Shoreman's Syndrome"
The work had curved my Spine

By ten years old I worked with
10 Blade Saw running 10,000 RPM
It Could Imbed a Stick in heavy Drywall

The slats had to be shaped and Packed
In bundles of 50 or 100 And loaded on a Trailer
Weighing 25 to 35 lbs a piece.....
They Added to My Backs Failure

These Slats went on Combines that
Harvested the Wheat of America
So when I was a child I carried
The Bread of America on my back

Silent Staunch The Sentry Stands
Guarding Graves of Grassy Fields
And Yesterday Afternoons

A Small Boy playing all the Men not in His Life
Forgetting Strife and Daily Deeds
Zones and Bonding, Contract Bidding
A Small Boy, still not too Old
The Cross Street Jungle Bought and Sold*
And all that's left.....

Silent Staunch the Sentry Stands
Guarding Graves of Grassy Fields
*And Yesterday Afternoons

Silent Staunch The Sentry Stands
Guarding Graves of Grassy Fields
and Yesterday Afternoons
A Small Boy playing all the Men not in His Life
Forgetting Strife and Daily Deeds
Zones and Bonding, Contract Bidding
A Small Boy, still not too Old
The Cross Street Jungle Bought and Sold
and all thats left.....
Silent Staunch the Sentry Stands
Guarding Graves of Grassy Fields
and Yesterday Afternoons
................JMF 1968

In the Still of the Night
On the Top of the hill
As we Lie looking at the Sky
Awaiting a Comet to Pass By
My Mother told me a Tale

Back when Magic Waned
And the Machine age began
With sorrow for its passing
The last of the Elves set off for afar
Left for the sky, on the Elven Star

Machines had robbed the Minerals
And smoke destroyed the Herbs
And Poisons had ruined the Water
Precious Elements from Sacred Fire
No Longer Helped them heal the Earth

The night they left the legend says...
A Bright comet passed, By in the Sky
The Elven Ships Journey  on a Magic Tail
Leaving behind a Golden Age Now Pale
The Elven ship returns at 75 years to pass By

And this is our Only chance to see Elves in the Sky...JMF 3/10/2015

The essential inconsequential
Texted, tweeted and emailed
Tumblred and Facebooked
Of each embarrassing moment.
Hollywood star marital atonements,
Selfie in the bathroom,
Selfie in the bar,
Selfie in the shower,
Selfie in the car,
The intrinsic need,
To document each
Major or minor event,
Led many to the public noose
For what they had let loose.
They are tried in the press
And and found wanting.
Wanting more! and wanting more!
Only to satisfy ourselves, that we are
Hash Tag Selfie Me
Truly the center of the universe
....................................JMF 10/5/14

A spark... of Creation
Ignites a Tinder of Thinking
Setting a Blaze of Concept
Catching Fire to a Thought
That Blaze Forms
The Idea...
Carrying the Brilliance
To the Future... Until
Its Flames Subdue
And Slowly Glowing  Embers
Become White Ash of the Past....

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Standing by the road side
Thumbing a ride
Sleeping Bag, Backpack
And...Guitar on my back
Heat rolls off the Highway
Like Hallucinogenic Waves
Found a Roach in my pocket
Got me through the Day
Nothing but 70s Buick's...
And Cadillac's Roll By
On the on ramp to  I-80
Rolling on to  West Skies
A wish for a fast ride's best
Been up for 36 Hours
Popping Little White Crosses
Nothing Passing by but...
Military bosses.........
A VW Micro-bus pulls up
With a Band of Tie Died, Dead
Heads, cranking Jerry Garcia
The smoke the bowl, Kept on Toking
Greatful Dead played "Keep on Truckin' "
I Rolled off some Riffs, along with the Band
Flyin' 300 miles in that beat up old Van
My head got mellow, with these fine Fellows
They Dropped me off in the cool of the Night
And all I saw of them was their Red Tail Lights...1/27/15

I once knew a Child,
that liked to Laugh at,
the on going antics...
of the "Cat in the Hat"
He liked to eat Jam
he was a picky eater
never would he eat
"Green Eggs and Ham"
He wishes for things
he could do like
"Horton hears a Who"
That boy now Grown
writes his own poems,
He knows with a cinch
it began with "The Grinch"
and Thanks Dr. Suess
who put his pen to use,
and made him a poet.
He Knows it..............JMF/2/20/15

At the top of the Mountain there is a Lightness in the air...

Sounds of the wind speak to the crags of the Mountain...

In echoing silence and soft murmurs, Whistling an eerie tune...

That shakes the souls of Men, to the Ground as it reaches their ears...

Burdened down by the struggle of the Journey, They don't realize...

That they Stand within Lightness...                     JMF 9/26/14

At the top of the Mountain there is a Lightness in the air...

Sounds of the wind speak to the crags of the Mountain...

In echoing silence and soft murmurs, Whistling an eerie tune...

That shakes the souls of Men, to the Ground as it reaches their ears...

Burdened down by the struggle of the Journey, They don't realize...

That they Stand within Lightness...                     JMF 9/26/14

( by Elizabeth Squires and SilverSilkenTongue in Collaboration)


In an idle ilk the poet
Did **** precious time
Non pursuant twas he
Of that haunting rhyme

The Tap tap tap of his Thumbs
In pulse to the Anxiety that Comes
Resistant and Hesitant this Choice of Word
Like crows on a wire flitting to and fro
Simply to be Assured who is top Bird

He mulled in thought
On his composition
Yet not acting on it
Due to a stalling disposition

Caught in a Web, of Websters Dictionary
Assonance and Consanace Fundimentaly
He Chews each Syllable to Spit out
The Misconstrued Vowels that he Shouts!

By Elizabeth Squires and Silver Silken Tongue
Special Thanks to Ann who suggested Elizabeth and I should Collaborate

With the Season So Gay, only Days Away,
Just the smile of a friend would do.
But to someone, who searched for a smile a while
It seems these days that true Friends are few.

The Bankers are Busy Compounding with intrest
And Bakers So Busy with Fudge and Sugar cookies
The stores are mobbed by Shoppers who feel Robbed
If they miss the Black Friday Deal for a big screen TV

But to Some's wish for a touch of a friend, there is none
In the Hustle and Bustel brought on by this season
Amidst all the glee and Well trimmed Lighted trees,
Lone Souls search for a spot of love they will never see

Their cards go unanswered and gifts are untouched
No Music of laughter this Holiday Comes
No Wish for the Hottest thing, just the touch of a friend
Is on their wish list, but not under the tree in the End
Because there's no way to present, all that's meant
When the wish Due is the simple touch of a friend
Though this wish is small, Merry Christmas to All...JMF 12/20/14

When Moonlight wens upon the moore
And Starlight knocks upon your door.
When thrums the hum of Faerie Wings
And the Harpen sound of Elfen strings.
Accompanied by dark Dwarven drums
The music of the night doth come.

A Shaman tends with Force of Night
A Silver Sword of fierce Light.
The wounds flow. The battle bounds
Thunder of Hooves upon the ground.
Tirelessly on the battles fight
But fades away in Mornings light.

And now that morning light is near
I arise from sleep with vision clear.
And the webs of tiredness
Fall from my eyes.
My new day begins
Under the skies…...JMF 11/9/14

I performed adverse observations,
polyphonic annihilation's
of linguistic situations
Intrepid assassinations of language.
Only to sit and ponder.
Amid wonder.
Where did the words all go
Strewn About like...
Carcasses of coccophony
Stumbled upon by the devotion to Reverence,
Or is it reference, to the Quotes and misquotes
Of misaligned Estutes,Resigned to Following

Beets are Greatly Misunderstood
They Make sugar from them...
Because they're Sweet
All kinds of Treats

Candy, Cookies and Ice cream
Doughnuts, Cake and Pralines
Girl Scout Cookies and Frosty Shakes
You should Salute the Beet for all it Makes

I hope I opened your eyes to
All the things that Beets can do

Past Prejudices arise Again,
Feed a Feast of Fear to them
Prey upon their Greatest fears
And Raise a Fascist tide

Let Loose the Tide of Lies
Greased by Economic ties
Lubes the Rails of Ruin, And
Veils the Dawning of the Truth

Brave they Are, who have
Never seen the Rise of Battle
Willing to sacrifice, those who are...
as if to War, the Chaf and Chattel

The Leaders Lead us into Pens
To leash us to Ideologies in Need
To Insure the remaining 1 percent
That they can fulfill their greed

Glutting on the Middle class, and
Feast upon the Poor, to upraise
The Pile of Bones Before, Each
Fat and Wanton Priviledged Bore

For us a need, is all that we Possess
Feeling Lost, all in Due Process
Yet Voices can be Heard and Votes
It seems only to be  logical.....

WE CAN SLAY...the Necrological


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Eyes cast upon the creation,
Its a stirring Invitation.
Words cooked in a spoon,
Drawn to the Pen soon,
Tied off by punctuation.
When the Ink hits the Blood,
The rush is a total Flood.
And the Poets elation,
Is the rush of creation.
But on days of frustration,
You beg for inspiration,
Just to feel the Poets Fix.

Irish Immigrants found
when they stepped
Onto the Ground,
Their Pockets full of
Donnegal Potatoes.
The Dirt beneath their Nails
Was a Mark of how they'd Failed
Famine and Starving brought them
But the Slurs of the Dublin Micks
From those who Looked Down on them
Determined them to Show off their Pride
Some, teamsters worked horses and Frieght
Some nimble fingers Stitched Linen and Lace
Some Irish tenors the Rage of the Stage
Some with a Swing were the Sting of the Ring
Bringing down Boxers Seasoned Sparring
Fiddlers fiddled and coleens were maids
And through it all Heads held High
Shined the Gleem of Irish Pride

In earlier times a Daughter was born
Who carried the welts of a belt
An oath of no children
By the Mother was sworn

Ten years went by
An she agreed to one
But you must never
Lay a hand on my son

The man felt afronted
By the Oath on his head
But agreed to the terms
His wife had said...

The son was born on
A hot august Morn
But the oath on his head
Was the Mans Scorn

As the Boy grew older
All of 8 years old he
Was told his mother ill
Her Failed sight ner seen

The Boy Had to help
The mother to cook
Taught by her
From recipe books

The Man owned a factory
Where each day he must be
After school his time
Was never free

He must clean
The factory floor
And haul the Rubish
Out the door

By 9 he was working
with 16 ft boards
To help make the slats
That paid for our Board

When ever the boy talked
Of what he had learned
He was ridiculed by the father
And vicously Spurned

He was called
Insane and stupid
Told he belonged in a
Mental institution

He was told
He was a slacker
That nothing he
Did was ever right

The Spite and the Hatred
built Day upon Day
His father argued
With all that he'd say

By 12 the Boy had
Longshoremans
Syndrome, from the
weight of the work

As his spine was growing
It bent the spine as it formed
The Raging went on day after day
The abuse heaped on the head of the Boy

When Finally he left
With his back to the door
For 2 years they never
Heard from the Son

Till he missed
Them and called
2 minutes it took till
The father started again

The son slammed
Down the phone in tears
And wasn't heard from
For another year

Through all of this from 5 years old
He'd been ***** by an older boy
And Held it all within Him
Afraid of his Father he never had told

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The Back Beat of the Bass, In a Bourban infused bar
Smooth to the bend of , The blues note Guitar
Saxman whail's to the, Smoky Slow blues Singer
And Drummer riffs off , A High Hat Brush Stinger
The Pianoman lays down, A Slow soft tune
As the Vocals Stir the mix, In a soft **** Croon
People dance so close, It Shuts out the World
Lost in Love, Lust, & Bourban.....
Bartender sets up another Round
As the Crowd of the room, Soaks up the Sound.....
Toker's Blowin'  Smoke, Hid in the hall by the Johns
The Bars Mood Sways...As the music Carries on
A Patron at the Bar, Orders up another beer
And the Dancers Float, Across the dance Floor
The Glow of Neon Spills, Colored Red Lights....
A Soft **** Setting, For a Memorable Night
The Guests all begged and, Pleaded for an Encore
So the band fired up... Just one more
All on A Saturday night.....JMF 1/31/15

I like to walk the bridge*
Between Fantasy.....
And Reality

I find an elation
Wondering which side
Of the Mirror I am on

Reflections and intersections
Of Memories Appear as if
They are Near, and

Not just shadows
Shifting and drifting
To nothing, and out
Of this Darkness

Leaps the Spark of Creation


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The taste of Cloves on
Cloven hoofed delicacies
Entice the Palette's elan
Often served with Yams
First smoked then slow roasted
At Holidays its often Toasted
And it makes one heck of
An Omlette with Cheese
Its certain to please

Tired is the soul, weighed down by regrets
Trodden weary legs try to balance the Precepts
Slow the step passes, verdant fields of Grasses
His vision cast aside to the Stone and dirt
Dire is his need to succeed all eyes are kept Avert
No eye has he for to see, his sight to life is Blinded.....JMF 1/9/15

This is a poem......
you don't have to read.
You're busy at home
watching Cable TV.
On Twitter or Facebook,
reading all the minuta
that comes down the feed.
My words may be little,
my words may be small.
But, each and every one
of them, I own them all.
Some will take time,
and others will pass by.
These words will be mine,
till the day that I die.....JMF 2/19/15

Undaunted by the lack of sound
Waits patiently for answers bound.
A tiring task that puts to will,
The asked must have time to ****.
To spend so much time to ignore,
The message knocking at your door.
A lingering persistent knock,
That ticks away like the clock.
Passing one moment to the next
Each minute ads to the one before.
And still the question is ignored......JMF 11/8/14

From fate blows the winds of Change
Rearranging all our Plans and goals.....
Events unseen can change your dreams
To where they feel Like Nightmares

It feels like we are so alone.....
Stumbling upon the unknown
Trying to grab for Something
And Coming up with Nothing

And when we fall, we feel all
Lost in limbo's listless thrall
All we can do in the end.......
Is accept what comes My Friend*


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The word escapes me
Hidden in the death and Carnage
Je veux pleuer pour Paris, Je suis Enraged
Shot Like Cattle at Slaughter, in a
Strange Night in Paris amid the Bistros
Voulez-vous etre mon amies Parisians
In the Night a Rose Cries Tears of Petals
Its Scent mingled with the smell of Gun Shells
And after all the feelings...the word escapes me


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they say that Time is
passing, but we pass Time

I want to Thank You
For Your Appreciation
And Support.......



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To all the Poets who work so Hard
To bring us their Precious Words
And tell us of their Tears and Fears

To all the Poets who work so dear
To tell us Magic tales of yore
Clashing swords and Dragons roar

To all the Poets who work so long
Juggling Words to bring them on
And express the Fights all won

To all the Poets who clever Phrase
Your words put us into a Daze
And, this poem's to Rave your Praise

This Poem's your Laurels to Honor you...


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