I perceive this age of dust
That of rain's rage upon
the red red rust

I've captured the binds
that held me fast
as I turned blue I
choked and gasped

So life will rise up to the tast
Or topple over like a stone
from a pyramid's past

So shovel the grave with spades called days
Don't go giggling at time's
inconsistent maze

For you are to remember
in this age of dust
your red red blood
is soon tucked
beneath the crust

When life offers you lemons ask instead for limes
Rather than making lemonade you can make Margaritas instead

I came to the bend
in the road .
Confused ;
I stopped ,
then texted ,
hit send . . .
(END)

I came to the bend
in the road .
Distracted ;
I crashed  
the barriers .
They said I was lucky
to live and
that was the . . .
(END)

I came to a bend
in the road .
Enraged ;
in anger ,
I sped up and crashed
into a tree
and that was indeed
the . . .
(END)

I came to a bend in the road .
I stopped ;
then prayed ,
and made amends .
Then God straightened out
the road again .
(AMEN)

Chokes on the dust of opportunity
Fumbles the swòrd of salvation
Misses the mark of perpetuation
He's no motion made machine
Just a killer of tìme

It's understanding what I read

Not reading what I don't

Understand ?

One who has forgotten
the companion of her youth

A flatterer as deadly
as David's five smooth stones whose words are so uncouth

The one who holds the passport that communicates with the shadows of the ghosts

Those who go into her never return to the consequence of choice

The simple believes (his) every word , but the prudent considers well his steps .
(Proverbs 14:15)

He will send send your sons and daughters off to war and they will never return .
Then he will take your money , land , and then your life .
Don't you fools understand .
They are blinded by the lies . While they see nothing but the night . Even when the Son arise they remain a blight .

Wisdom or folly
Good or evil
Life or death

There are no third options for you to choose . The first will bring you life the other you will lose .

For I no longer find favor
In your exclusionary arms
No longer embrace the warmth nor kindness
You come lacking all your charms

The eyes have all turned inward
They gaze upon your wall
You have pulled the curtains
Now I feel like Adam after he had made the fall


I am the seed that was turned to grist
By the grinding of your wheel
For I see , I feel , and taste
Your ever consummating will

I was raised a tumble ****
in death was I set free
To roam the plains of noncompliance
by the fickle winds that be

Every day a broken branch
Rounded out in form
Everyday another chance
Was I only to be scorned ?

So I choke on the dust of life
No waters near nor far
Forever will I remember
the child . . .

Sleeping . . .  

in the rear window of the car

I am the air that ruffles the feathers of a wing
The shadows of a thunder storm
I am the invisible feeling
of a summer fling

I am the water that satiates thirst
The cosmic heavens of comets and meteor's burst

I am the longing of a broken heart
The disappointment when your car won't start

I am the determination of a rivers quest
I was there when you were born
I'll be there for your death

I am the essence you take for granted
That which you have neglected
That which you have taken advantage

I am the life you've been gifted
The years , months and days and minutes
Take just a few seconds to say thank you

The flea of fables
fans the feeble fires
of fastidious fires

The rat runs rancid
rabid by recognition
Returns to the roots
of restoration

There can be no sorrow
without loss

I was left with nothing
Devoid of my resolve
Stripped of all my vanity
Beaten down
like the path
on the grass of the lawn

I wandered door to door
begging for form
All that was granted
were the curses from
the day I was born

There the rocks
of the wall between us
began to fall
Some rolled down
to the ocean
Some rolled not at all

There was little risk
involved
Just the commotion written
and the false hope
that appals

So I turned back
the grip of time
I cut tbe ropes
that bound

I imagined a place
of perfect form
in the words of
my rhyme

A likeness of truth has shadows . Lies one can see through .

Adam - (1) man
              (2) earth or ground
So man from dirt goes to dirt .

Who bent back the bow of decissions
Who ravaged the ghost inside
Who stole the lights of the moon's provisions
Turned it to purple that became the haze of all our daze

Who served the seas of tossed desire
Forcing the pulse of hosts ?
Was it one "Running Up the Hill?"
Against the "Valley of the Ghosts?"

Under the midnight's auroras
As magnetic as they be
Through all the eyes of the orcas
The walrus pleads petals of ice
Won't you just ,"Let it Be!"

Dr Samuel Johnson : "Revenge is an act of passion , vengence of justice ; injuries are reavenged , crimes are avenged ."

Retributive justice is often misnamed as vengence . For some it signifies an excitememt of angry passions in order to gratify a vindictive spirit which in supposition believes it has been harmed by evil intent . Vengence is actually the simple act of justice giving all their due .

The swirl of eyed owls
feathers mouse devoured .
Carry the DNA's belly down
across the acorns of time .
Oaken my thoughts to the pictures dismayed . Way! Way ! Distempered the bytes of Lamia . Drips the intense desires satisfied . Chalky hands of children . Tiny voiced hands of destruction . Cost catch crushed . The ***** of feathers silently eyed by owls of flight .

I just want to be nowhere
I don't want the cares
the stares . . . the sympathy
nor anything

I just want to lay out back
in the grass counting stars
pretending I am dead

The memories . . .
I can't lock them out
The feelings twist and shout out ,"If onlys."

The chill brings the dew
I'm just conscious of you
Some where I hope up there
If not then where

Just maybe one day
. . . one day again

Caves make great closets for prayer

Be anxious for nothing but for everything in prayer

When the wicked malace of men dare not openly assail , then they will resort to secretĺy ensnare

Know the value of not lapsing into silence , that is the way to despair

So alluring ,
my diablos under skin !
A mixture of sin and your gin
You can have your November rain
I'll take the fingernails of pain
We wrestle down to the common core
Hungry for more , ever more
Breathless gasps of derision and slaps of *******
We bend the shapes of reality into a feast fasting
in desire

Prayer needs a heart on fire to light the sacrifice of will enabling the sweet-smelling aroma of incense , that is pleasing to God , to rise to Heaven

Poets love poetry
but that is as far as it goes
Poems love the attention
Anything else just blows

Poems feed you lines
telling you it's the truth
while lying out of the corners of their mouth
Don't believe ? How uncouth !

Poems fill up books page after page
About their loves , betrayals , pains , and rage
Don't believe them !
Its all been staged !

It's not their masters they despise
That's not the thought going down
It's all in black on that feeling of white

They are always staring back at you without a sound daring you to put them down

The lumber stacks
Covered in snow
No one around
to do anymore
I stand in the cold
crisp air
And contemplate
my dire despair
I see my dream
has come to end
Just like the others
and all their kin
And as I numb
to the cold and pain
I realize
it was for nothing
There was no gain
The snow crunches
as I go
back to my truck
to heat , to radio
I tried to take it
to the limit
I did my best
down to the minute
I failed the test
I never had a house
of my own
nor what you could
call a home
I always had
to chew on
the left over bones
So let the rivers
catch my drift
I'm moving on
So be it forthwith

Born on the rivèr
Raised in desert dunes
Rolled in yellow flowers
of Cascadian blooms

Never a stop
for very long
Before I was rolling
on and on


Fought the storms
Gulf of Mexico
Splintered the hearts
and masks
as winds would blow

The way of words
Two words to say
Coming or going
It doesn't matter
anyway

When a poet dies
people mostly
just feeĺ sad

When a poet dies
very few people
shed tears from
their eyes

They just lock away
the memory
of how the poet
made them feel
deep within the pith
of their heart

When a poet dies
few can stand to read
their words

The death a rapier
to their emotional
insights and all
their bywords

Rather they transend
the limits of their
boundries and we let
them rest in peace

Time was short and
I was short on time
The two mixed together
and said , "Not for another dime ."

He wasn't dressed in black
Yet he looked so lifelessly black
What he didn't say said it all
This was strictly a business call

He motioned to a mysterious door
that opened as he spoke
There beyond the imagination
the sun went down . . .
Just then I awoke

I care not about the words
spoken
Nor the one's laid down on page
I long ago got over myself
and the antics of my rage
They seem to be valueless
in the scrapped scope of paradise
I will take the offer given
and let the advice suffice
Poets don't live in mansions
Nor on rheams , nor texts or screens
They occupy the inner works of imaginations and all that it will bring
People don't pay for poets
nor feed their desperate ego
They just steal a line or perhaps a quote just to prove that they must know
At least songs have a memory with words dripping in notes for coats
So much easier to swallow
Not like the paper that chokes
So next time you say heh listen
I'll turn my head and flee
For it must be another attack of killer poetry

Once when I was younger
I was made older for my age

My playground was always only inches from the edges of the grave

Though I was not a victim of evil child abuse

The fact was I had no supervision . I was completely free and lose

I ran away at three looking for who or what can ever tell

If I found a hole in woods
I wanted to know how deep was the well

I was always one step from disaster
Riding a bike up a hill or down a mountain

Swimming across the river
or out in the ocean
My need to be searching
was how I was made to sustain

As the edges of aging expanded my thirst for adventured expired

Now I am surely as close to that edge that I embraced
so long ago

But now I know how deep that well is

How high the mountain
How wide the river
or the deep the ocean

Now that I know I guess it's time to go

I dance to tìme immortal
Across the hollow graves
Raise up my eyes to Heaven
And offer up my praise

My journey was a cruel one
Filled with angst and much despair
But I never lost sight of salvation
Though I searched year after year after year

Now I'm looking back to see
All of it was in vain
Not worth a handful of sand
Not worth a single grain

You slammed the door I opened
Breaking the nose of my space
Then you trampled upon my spiritual body
You exiled me from the human race

But I will forgive my brother
He knows not what he does
I will be blessed with justice
Sent from high above

You can't see love
nor it's reflection
only the results

You can't see hate
nor it's origination
only the results

You can't see God
nor his glorification
only the results

What thoughts in word
reside beyond the dimming
of your eye

Were I able to read your commandments engraved
behind your disguise ?

I catch the morning's light
in the rays of reflection of
your lack of dedication

It takes a while to fall from the highest tree . Longer still to hew it down .

They pledged their forevers
no matter how short it was to be

They were brutalized , beaten and stipped naked

Then thrown down , whipped and then nailed

To the wooden cross for eternity

Such was their love for
each other

I put the fast brake to the
relationship
Revved up the fuel injected
cylinders
Sent backfires of unspent fuel out the tailpipe
The angst of my engines just waiting for the red light of her hair to turn to green

Live long
Regret more

The almost winter trails
brown leaves
littering the ground
All the birds gone
and nary a sound
I think I will call it a
'Haiku'

The long draw of contemplation
The slow sweep of realization
The full bodied exhaultation
of life as it is

Oh sweep me away beyond
the fettered ways attached to the feathers of escape

Let free the chords of dissapation that baffle the binds of imagination

Come the vibrations that penetrate the soul of the eternal ear creating cravings that are simply insatiable

Cello !

The whispers in my ears
roll out the resurrection of the mourning

My heart or head ?
Which one bled the most ?

The thoughts turning red
The heart to water
I can barely twist the truth
I'm so wrung !

I want you to wing it out
Flapping feathers in extreme
Nothing more than a blur
The forefront of a flash in the wind

Little more than a peck
as you brush your beek
I try to be a revelation
but my reaction is too weak

Clutch the truth in talons grip
Rip it to pieces on the cliffs
Meanwhile I stay hidden
mashing sweaty fists

You never did
I never tried
And together
we relized
surely realized
that we were never meant
to be seen by
lovers naked eyes
No

If you could
please leave a photograph of your face on your way out

Just so I can cherish before my eyes grow dim

I painted half of my face blue and the other red
Now I have to lay in the bed I've made

Don't you love me
Won't you love me
before my eyes grow dim

The iodine of lapsed desires
The sting clinches my strength
The cold claws at my fire
Stealing my gleameth

You walk on by to war
Now I wish you would reappear
But the notes are black on the red eyes of Mars . . .
year after year

It was the day before Christmas and all through the house all had gone out the kids , husband and wife
There was plenty of presents under the tree
as the thief under cover could plainly see . A quick tap by steel bar on the glass and the theif gained entry by opening a window to pass .
He quickly opened up the lock on the back door . Then shuffled all the presents out to his car a sleek looking four door . Then he sped away not fast but discrete for no one saw a thing for he was so fleet . Well we came home to a tragic scene . How could this have happend , it's so outragous
down right ugly and mean

It was the perfect picture
for the last day of fall :
Pale blue skies
cotton candy clouds
warm golden fields of hay
cropped close to the ground
glowing in the crisp sunlight

My fortunes
deep and mighty
Black root rot
Leaf and blighty

Rocks feel not the pain
nor share the blame
when they've been instructed
to maim

So I got myself undressed
wiped away the blood
Bruised enough to suffice
Whose name now is  labeled Mud

Will you beat me in the morning
Will you beat me in the end
Will you beat me enough
until I call you friend

I came to a fork in the road
and I got spooned .

Southern winds soothe the pines
Pitch sap oozes from the trees
There's the lap of tanic water
on the shores of lake
kissimmee
.
Takes more than gentle waves
to endow a restless sea
More than all the stars to make up eternity
.
A journey starts with a  first step
Then it takes many more to come
And when you've finally arrived at your destination
you feel empty , defeated
dumb
.
You were never promised a tomorrow
Today will always be your last
You will be who you are in the future
depending upon your past

When I have grown so weary
When I've hit the rocky wall
When my feet have all grown heavy
causing me to stumble
then to fall
I will rise bruised from the rubble
dust off the relics of my dreams
then I will beckon to my call and move on at any means
.

Say it on the sounds delayed
Breathe into me words so frail
I will take and turn them into one huge triumphic wail
.

When you have mowed me down
When you've counted me as out
I will be the one left standing in my faith
not shaking nor in doubt

I'm looking for salvation
by the wounded hours of night

I'm thinking of a giant to the ****** of my plight

My pen lays as idle as the silence of the slain
As I've aged I wonder if I will ever write again

The thoughts go tango to dance that subtlely divides

The words are rudely gathered then told they've been denied

Someone dared to ask me
if I lived in
a graveyard
of shattered dreams

After a moment of silence all I could say was , "Yes ,  so it is as well it seems."

The paper island exists far out on an inky sea

The words have stowed away on boat and sailed far away from me

You shoulder the everything
of the nothingness
trapped now in the air

All of the mole hill mountains that you stumble over
saying that you care

The identations of life
that you so carelessly
plunged deeply back into

A sentence in the book of life
ignored returns
intent on haunting you

A toxic attitude
that has aged in the bottles
of our time

In turning to
it's never
what you find . . .

A finite year it was
now better left behind

From the cradle
to the grave
we line up
to be enslaved !

You have to be odd
to be number one