Is an action word , not of a sorrowing heart , but one of a change of direction like a stone bouncing off an immovable force .

The strategic opportunity to make decisive decissions
that define the moment we call time .

Healing doesn't come from
revisiting a wound

It comes from releasing it

I will follow the followed

Those cuspacated fingers cringe of dried blood

The cracking lips
belching
the word "fursat"
from a dying Noah
after years of desiccating floods

I stare for hours
at the keyboard

It's staring back at me

So I change my profile picture
But I'm feeling the same

So comes the light

The night ?

That will soon disappear

There I stand lashed to the key
But the tsunami never comes

Just reality sweeping over me

When love declines
the heart grows cold
It becomes the moonlight
that chills the soul

Polished like marble
with all of its frills
It withers away
Attemptable to ****

What cold singing
from frigid lips
When the heart grows weary
From the vice of life's grips

When prayers become weeds
Scattered by wind
Left with nothing
But the hollow within

Dare dash the dust from the room
The canary in the coffin doomed
Crack the legs to make it fit
Awful feeling in your pit

The days taste of kerosene
The bees are gone there's no sting
While the albatross questions why
The walrus now has to die

Yank the heart from it's wrack
Beat the drums tack tack tack
Time's kept in a bottle by the sea
So was tossed the child so wee

I dared thee to write it down
You , the orangutan face of a clown
Kick the plastic down the road
Make the others tariff the load

If you are afraid to die
Then you are not ready

A person is like a light bulb
The light comes from within

Death extinguishes light
from the outside in

But the live wires of life
will still remain

Waiting on someone to turn the switch on again

Death pats itself on the back but then

Life puts the dagger into
it's empty hand

I had someone's extra time and money
So I planted it in the rose garden
Man , that was a waste of time !

Everyone has their fifteen minutes of fame
They carry their torches high
while going up in flame

The ashes of the past
become the hope diamonds of tomorrow

As one ages time flies by even faster
Yet they do less and less before they are put out to pasture

If you find a hole inside your soul
It's where your heart once called its abode

The gold coin had a two sided head of an ox

One side of an ox pulling a plow

The other of an ox being lead to slaughter as a sacrifice

At the bottom it was inscribed ,

"Be either"

The darkest nights
provide
the mush-rooms
of delight

They took the Don-key and the colt
They did not ask permission
They told the rightful owners
We have a need and want
They clothed the colt in money
Threw dollars before its feet
And entered the sacred city
looking forward to the feast
"Vox populi , Vox dei"
yelled the people
Triumphantly they were heard to yell
Little did they know
It was the beginning of four more years of Hell

You have to let go and not hold on
When life's past has cut you to the bone
Cast away the anchors
grasp
Cut the ropes , drop sails on the mast
Check the weather that the sunrise casts
Let go , Let go ,
. . . the ugly past

When I was last
I dreamed of being first

When I became first
I wished I was last

Those in the middle
looked left then right

Shook their heads in disbelief
And prayed with all their might

Who was it that was left
Who then was the right

Excuses
are the white bread
spinal taps
that alleviate
the sticky
super glue
of truth

Infinity is the fabric of time that eternity wraps around itself .

It's not the reflection in the mirror
it's the image we put into it

I held your love
with the fingers of my heart
I tattooed the promise
to all my tomorrows
across my back to be carried for eternity
. . . where are you now ?

It takes forever for distant stars to burn my lips
There is no mercy found on the floorboards that walk across my kiss
. . . where are they now ?

Remember how the needles of time stitched the nights together ?
How easy does the fabric of love become unentwined
. . .  remember ?

When it's my time to go
do I go alone ?
Who's to guide me ?
Who's there to open the gate ?
Who's there to say welcome home ?

The days have been torn from the book
There's nothing between the covers
but that dubious look

No hands of man can reach me
No clock can measure
No wind will chill
No thoughts remain
No tears left unwashed
by rain

I will go to the music
I will crave the light
I will not fear
Nor lose sight

Between the day and dark
I will choose to follow
If I lose the way
It will be my sorrow

So let my hand go
Whisper something
beneath your breath
I will see you there
beyond the grip of death

Does not the sun
that softens the wax
turn on the clay
to make it hard ?

The one whose rest
is restless at night
Drives by on his silver screen
Eying out potential poems for demarcation

If one believes something they should have proof .
If one does not believe they should have proof as well .

Don't hide behind your protasis .
May all your "ifs" sink into the sea .

Stand firmly on the waters of your apodosis .
Ease your mind and set your spirit free .

One can say : "Tell us the truth!"
And I long to want to
but how is it best to do ?

I find it residing deep inside
But my ability is lacking to make it come alive

So I cast out examples
that lay alongside
Heavenly meanings
with Earthly ties

Proverbs , riddles , and saying so wise
Make it easier to see and feel the truth that's disguised

Sometimes it hard to separate the truth
Then one must turn into a quizzical sleuth

But for the one that knocks on the door
A new world opens for them to explore

I blow the new dust
off the old dust ,
the dust that remains forever.
I told her ,
"You steal my time
and my money ,
my house and
all my integrity .
But you will never steal my heart ."

I tilt the base back and forth
Watching the same grains of sand
become suspended in time

Your open arms were my harbor to my shipwrecked dreams

Your beach my bed where I lay my head

My nights were the stars in your eyes

Your kisses the comets I craved

The tides of change , tropical depression and hurricanes . . . as I curl my toes in wet sand

The grains in glass I seek
to balance out the spatial

I have that space now nothing more

No , nothing more .

I watched my father
take his last breath
Drugged , deprive of food and water
slipping away into death

Yet he resisted ,
he struggle to say .
But the drugs
prevented him
as they held him
in sway

The memorial crossed
my thoughts tonight
Then spread to the history
of my life by the light

From the earliest beginning when I was just
child
Death was stalking me
following me around all of the while

A neighbor from tornado
Crib death of a child
plane crash , polio
Mile after mile

Death became second nature
A fiend always that be
That shadow always standing there next to me

I used to joke and call him my friend
But I never saw him smile or attempt to grin

So as the wheels of life continue to spin
I'm left here standing next to him

I tell death I'm moving on beyond his grasp
Entering a new dimension
where he cannot pass

There are no emotions
in his vacuous eyes
And I wonder if he believes it's just more of those lies

Jot was the mischievous one , bending the truth to suit .

While Tittle stamped their point over the head of truth .

It was something you never did
it was something you always did

God rest my soul
Because you never did

I learned to drink
Because you never did
Never defined the moment
Because you always did

God rest my soul
Simply put
I knew you would
Because you never did

Oh you enjoyed the fall
You loved it all

God rest my soul
Because you never did

Repentance isn't a feeling word

Actions are the
dispensations separated
by cross , tomb and resurrection

So aches the heart to know
of what or where
or perhaps most ardently
. . . when .

When will I see you again ?

Stop waiting on the stars
To open your dreams
Let light be
The source of
All your themes
Hide not behind
The moon
Letting lies
Be your doom
Open the letter
Life is just a
Postcard away
No postage due
Sunshine's still free

She standing there with her gin and tonic
Holding it like a cross ripe
for a cruxification

She turns to smile making sure you see her
Pouring out wiles of affection on the somebody new

It's like an arrow through you
Cutting deeper than the burbon on your breath
Is it her way of making up a test ?
. . . YES !. . .

Well it's sometime between midnights
It's anytime all of the time
She holding the arm of leaving
The attention of her new guy

There's no amount of Bourbon you hush
It can't flush away the ghosts

And it must be between the midnights
It must be the last of last calls

The band's quit for the night
The pianist twinkles on the keys of exhaustion
I whisper to the glass of ice
Everything's going to be alright

The tides of destination
have invaded my beloved estuary
Rising fast in deliberation
Washing away the righteousness that I once held dearly deep within

Seeking to bend the reeds of  resistance
the muddy waters of disdain come rushing in

They are lunatically overpowering
Driven to dominate the spirit that I
once held sacred free of sin

If I were a cost
would it be worth
the effort to lay it down on paper ?

The woods would be
full of rotting timber
not fit to burn on page

The rivers would be
contaminated
with foul thoughts
from all the words
of poison that they spray

The clean up costs
would be prohibitive
The emotional cost
devastating

So trying to be
cost effective
leaves little to
be me

Then why do I continue to write poetry ? 😠

The poets dwell
within their Hell
on a Sabbath day
witching hour

Their minds a wreck
Their hands  
of tech
They grind their teeth
in angst

Silence staid
The beds unmade
Searching for who
knows what

Snaps a pencil
It's indefensible
He can't go back
to bed

Quasimodo?
Was he noble ?
Played center for
Notre Dame

Came draft day
He was cast away
Which foot was it
you ask ?

Well the venom's drip
that sank a ship
Manned by mushroom
brained morons

Will be the first
to experience the worst
That trickles down
that piggies leg

"We all live in a yellow submarine"
It's just another "Day in the life"
After all happiness is a
warm warm gun

Satan , whose name means adversary or opponoment ,
stands against us in every spiritual battle .

The only thing worse than having Satan as an adversary . . .
is to have him as a friend .

When we
battle
with the Lords authority
we fight
from a place
of Victory
Not from a place
for victory

The burning brands . . .
plucked from the ashes of the fire
Are the castaways
The fragments of lives
The unworthy
The heedless . . .
are priceless to the great lover of empty souls

A BIG bad woof
Flu D coupe
In his 1970's Gremlin
There was lace and leather and lots of feathers
Stuck to his growl and smile
All of the hens raised
a hell of a den
And cackled , clucked
and wished him luck
Hoping he'd come back again

(I can see we are alike)

Equals ? Certainly not !
Nor could we ever be .

But alike spiritually

Unfortunately
we could never meet

It would be a
(contpěetement fatal)
collsion
A vacious affair
of lightning bolts
(kissing)
inside a tornado's
twisted maw !

I am
naked
in my thought

Safe
within my room
nestled and cocooned
I touch no one and no one
touches me

I am poet
Words barred and leveraged
for all soiled souls
who are possessed

For who finds faith
in word
without light
while searching
in the dark

Is there anything more permanent ?
Is there anything more vain ?
For surely the word we call last
Will outlast all our attempts to change

Those that people believe all religions as equally true

The philosophers that believe all religions are equally false

The politicians that believe all religions are equally useful

Stop and think about it before you start to talk about the problem

Go back further than the problem to restate basic principles of God's dealing with man

Apply those principles to the problem . Let the light of the basic principles shine upon the problem

Commit the matter in faith to God no matter what you know or don't know what to do

In time he will answer you

Nothing
more dangerous
than poets
who takes
themselves
cerealously  
🤭

Those
Who have
the most to say

Usually
say the least

Pride is everywhere
Comes in many forms

The rich man is proud
of what he has
The poor man is honored for having less

The talented are proud of what they do
The less talented are proud of their hard work

The religious are proud of their religion
The unbeliever proud of his unbelief

The established man is proud of his social status
The counter-cultured proud to be outcast

The learned man proud of his intelligence
The simple man proud of his simplicity

If thre is a universal sin would not pride be the first

God hates the men of pride
He thinks they are the worst

Where was white rabbit ?

The girl that breathes Canal street's Spanish moss and dances to Zydeco

I fumbled , tripped on the goal line
all tangled in thorns

Now charged to walk late night's on Jubilee

The fog plays tricks behind facades of listless taunts of truth

I gaze through haze but swirls of vapor twist the thoughts

***** , blues , voodoo , jazz and you ,
my white rabbit

How much do heavy thoughts weigh ?
Just enough to crush you
Just enough to squeeze you through the unforgiving sewer grates of life
They roll over you like a high rise pick-up truck on a drunken Saturday night
See those possum eyes open wide before splat
How much do you really think ?
Perhaps as much as thirty pieces of silver or your brothers keeper .
How much do heavy thoughts oppress you ?
Subdue you ?
Demean you ?
Demote you ?
Destroy you ?
Deport you ?

Only God knows and he's not saying .

I'm sure it has been declared woke .

Once . . .
      I read a poem so pure . . . I could not find a flaw anywhere .
So powerful I could see the influence of God everywhere .

So stitched in time , space
and spirituality
all I could do was shed tears as to the eventuality .

She talked of creation and God's loving hand . . .
then deleted all data , cookies and cache . . .

before slicing both hands .