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

If one treads upon
the roads of life
one is bound to step
on a pebble of strife .
.
There is one stone
that seems impossible
to pass through ;
to go under,
around .
or hew
.
It leaves one frustrated ;
incapable ,
unsound .
One begins to doubt
then fear
there's no rebound .
.
One who has tried the tricks of  trade .
But no one acknowledges
the efforts made .
.
One finds the truth
on the dusty path
that nothing was
meant to last .
.
Love has roots
that grow deep in time .
It's vines grow tighter
as they entwine .
.
Then the gardener
rips out the green .
Unravels each embrace
that were so esteemed .
.
Throws the remains
upon the fires with
the rest of life's thistles ,
thorns ,
and brairs .
.
So the flames have
Heaven went .
The ashes cooled .
The fuel all spent .
.
And the cold winter
winds begin to blow .
.
So that love
can be ;
forgiven,
forgotten ,
covered in snow .

I have this cause so consuming . . .
like an overdose that's overwhelming

When salt water was as sweet as the memories that washed over my feet by the edge of high tide's completion


"Go find the door to your ambition
before it closes to the winds of desiccation"

The binding has cracked
the paper turned yellow  
Touching ,  now brittled backed
So it has been written "finis" upon the last page of life

The words I collected like seashells
as the wrinkles of face grew to foretell

The foam and waves swept over my toes
as the sand was ****** away from beneath

They say the pain will go away .
then they wish you well ,
. . . turn . . . and walk away

I look back upon life as if it were a dream :
a scheme . . .
a scream . . .
and so naive

"I will check out the skies in Rome ,
I promise now when winter is gone"

I long for the hot sands of purification
Where the bleached bones
have reached end's destination

Somewhere next to a Coptic sea
where time falls short on eternity I will kneel to my desperation


In another year
it will be another day's difference in time ,
as another grain of sand falls it loosens its bind

"Won't you come and bring thirst's renewal of relief ?"

Don't leave me gazing . . .
searching for that distant smile . . . buried in my  beliefs

If not . . . then
let me wish you well . . .
turn . . . and walk away

1000 poems
Good place to be
1000 and that's
all to see

Best wishes
to all ,

Goodbye . . .

I fought for want of will
Lay beaten and ******
for what turned out to be nil

So I go as all mankind must do
Descending into the dark of night

I labored for want of will
But heavy now are  my steps
I have no more to instill

Let me pass beyond the gate
To the green pastures beside still waters of the lake

Brickering words
The sand of sentences
Added to the waters of time
Cemented into the ever evasive desires of heart

What fools expect and deserve are written on the walls and heart of poets

. . . and they know it

She had a chest of drawers
Longings from ankle up
Paper chips of lips
A made up mind of shells and nuts

She was unceremoniously
civil
Quick to  wink
Hand chilling icebergs
An immitation belt made of mink

She sang blues in pink
While spitting out punk
Indifferent to age
Pure as road **** skunk

"It's my life , I'll do what I wanna!"
As they put her in Paddy
Drove her insanely station
"Come now my Laddie!"

Round and round
we go around . . .

Neither one up to the downside of the other

The moments don't matter as the seconds drag on

They drag us down the road to oblivion

The pavillion goes round and around like a carousel

. . . to Hell

Carrying a glass at my remand
My liquid comfort close at hand

The leaves fall down upon the ground
Without making nary a sound

I don't need a mirror to look at me
It's so plain for all to see

Just look around and
let them be
They have no need or use for me

Just leave them all looking down
There's no use for standing ground

It's just useless you can
see
So it goes down harsh on me

Woke up and had Sounds
Of Silence for breakfast

Then first rays of Free Bird fled the Smoke On The Water

Lord I tried to change
Turning greatfully dead

But Ten Years after
it was Bachman Turner Overdrive

Through the Purple Haze
we all glazed Along The Watch Tower

From the ruins of Rhiannon down to Jungle Land

We stood our ground as we made our last stand

We stood at the Stairway To Heaven at the Hotel California

Imagine the Superstition
as Layla was Born to Run

After all Happiness Is A Warm Gun

We all have our Bridge Over Troubled Water
but we learned to Let It Be

It was More Than A Feeling
when he said you can
Lean On Me

It was a Bohemian Raphsody for the Sutians Of Swing

But the Riders On The Storm rode in asking Who'll Stop The Rain

It was a Black Magic Woman all Tangled Up In Blue

She had all the Night Moves saying You Can Go Your On Way

The Long And Winding Road now has lead us to Reeling In The Years

What's Going On I'm inclined to ask Maggie May

She said I'm
Just Staying Alive because you know I Will Survive

Is it the dust ,
or the heat ?
Tequila maybe ,
or the sunrises ,
too many ?

I could listen
to the guitars
all night
while he sings
in Spainish

I'm thinking
I will understand
if I listen
long enough

I understand
the pain
in the fingers
on the strings

The pain
in the voice
The desolation
Abandonment
and the ever
present hope
for a better day

The beat
is like a heart
Constant
reliable
for the moment
anyway

Eventually
all things come
to an end

I stumble home
wishing I
could sing
in Spainish

Buenas noches
Adio digo yo !

You left me feeling accomplished
Like the last page of a good book
We held true to form
even as the tiny cracks magnified
So I got you holding
on to the evening breeze
But sunsets no matter how beautiful only last as long
as a gasp

The pieces fell all around
softer than a gentle rain
Embracingly as the fingers soothe the scars without the pain

Kodaline

"The fatal flaws that flow freely from the frailty
of our wounds !"

. . . naw too dramatic .

"Will I read the minds of those who are blind to the folly of their thoughts ?"

. . . who you kidding ?

"The Eye in the sky sees all that we do ."

. . . er , okay , if you say so .

"Don't let the anger gush to your head . Be the crow !"

. . . ha ha , I want to kaw kaw !

"Remember that One Two Three Four disco beat we all gyrated to in ecstacy ?"

. . . yes and I"m glad to say disco's dead .

"All those bridges we built too far , they have collapsed upon the beavy weighted dreams we could no longer bare ."

. . . sounds like an Elon Musk opportunity .

"There is nothing to fear except the fear of fear upon the faces of the fearless !"

. . . what ? A double or triple negative ?

"Well are you having Turkey for Thanksgiving ?"

. . . Yes , Wild Turkey 101 !

There was a time
when music meant
more than the
heartbeat in my chest

Through its veins
flowed notes of great inspiration

The heart raced to the rhythms , escalating elations

The spirit soared in explosions of glory and verbal fireworks awed

The vibrations tingled the
chill of skin

Who would have believed it could feel so great within

That was this , that was then

One , two , three . . .
     One , two , three . . .
One , two , three . . .

     (Waltzing away)

I'm holding on ,

     tonic and gin ,

my silly grin .


I hear the strings
    
      of the violin ,

in the echoes

     of my sin , in the din ,

the glory of my screams .


I long to fly ,

       nighthawks ,

diving ,  

       in the midnight's

sky of lights .


The arcade of words ,

       pages shelved .

The parties made ,

       the glasses

emptied . . .

       in despair .


Clear as midnight ,

       short as a stroke ,

the ghosts

       of the faces ,
       
hiding within ,

        what about them ?

What about midnight ?

.
.

I will not follow the rules of the past
Not when the future beckons at last
Though it is great standing here now
I've come to realize I have
new fields that need to be plowed

The days of the past are like handfuls of jewels
But to make them all shiny it took time with the appropriate tools

I lock up my tresures in my heart not the bank
To all of those souls I owe
I'm shouting out thanks

But the door beyond has been opened a crack
My curosity has been  intrigued , you know that's a fact

So I have shut the door to the house Yesterday
After all it has aged , sags with boards turning gray
And I am standing on the presence of porch
With a cloth wrapped stick dipped in oil that will be my torch

So while what once was my home is now going up with the smoke
I've already poured the new foundation for you to take  note

Every step into the future
is one for the past
Each breath taken in could surely be last

The sun's rose of petals pure orange in glow

The dawn cracked and broke into thousands
of eggshell seconds

Leaking light spewing around corners of deviant darkness

Wisps of moisture twisted in agony as sunshine pierced their hearts as if Dracula devoured

The quick of eye penetrated the shadows of desperation as fleeing phantons fled

The wax of their ways melted leaving feathers of wing spiraling down

The blood of quills spilled upon the newspaper whose headlines shouted ,
"Poetry Is Dead !"

Reach back
rip the chords out
Twisting still
the heart made metal

Pet the lamenting pulse
Laminate the pinch
of medling ****

Squeeze the words
till they scream
Exacerbate the agony
of bleeding dreams

Lightning comes down
in riffs
in sheets of rolling thunder
Banging heads asunder

Lifting decibels
Straining every fiber
Growing stronger
an electon collider

Till !

As depleted
as uranium
Nothing left
inside the cranium

While I'm just staring off into space

Through the interior of a ghost

In the midst of mists

Closed eyes in my bliss

Atop the cliffs above the sea

Strolls at night on the river's levee

In a crowd on Beal Street
listening to the blues beat

Laying in the bottom of a rowboat
Looking at stars as I float

How I hate isolation

From sunrise
to sunset
we learn to
make our way

From dusk
to dawn
we lay in
the bed we've made

We rise
to fall
That's the only
way

No one
escapes their fate
except in their dreams
while on the bed they lay

Where everything
is made right
from wrong

to the bed
of dreams
we've gone

I hold what's left of your
moments
Bwtween the fingers of my hand
The gold chain and jem
I caress with my fingertips
Where no anount of tears
can wash away the pain
Nor do I want then to

I leapt as the krackle
of fire
Popped and spit spark
Ashened the hand held hopes of the poker that punctured the flesh with heat of desired lushly hips
dripping moist in lust

Rudolph died at 31
A silent wonder
Shouting :
"There are a million ways to die !"
But he only needed one

He's a dealer of illusion
He buttonholes your collar
He comes down *******
allusion

Singing about Rita Hayworth
While holding hard a
Betty Davis in disguise

Swimming on the tarmac
of frozen dreams
Dreaming of crashing the party in silent screens

Have you heard the news ?
Valentino's dead !

Always treasured my moments alone
In the eerie silence , God made my home

The moon's racing clouds
Hidden by black burbon sky
In the coolness that enshrouds
in silence a bat flies by

Where the words of man fail
Where their thoughts no longer prevail

Where love resides in the heart
For the past a tear is shed
For all those that depart
So fresh as if they just bled

Running from the ghosts
Back to my envelope of dreams
Where nothing is as it seems