.

Looking on
this expanse that encircles me,
closing in during open hours,
unlocking doors I can’t seem to walk through
Stairways of rotted, termite eaten steps
each with my name painted on them,
creaking underfoot,
losing to the weight of
long lines at self serve counters
wrapping around as if
nothing is free but here
for some reason it is

And I stand right in the middle
alone in this ocean of faces,
polo shirts and penny loafers
staring at cell phone screens,
calling someone,
talking with their hands,
hands free?
Paying it forward,
coffee for the next guy in line,
but not me

For I am just here, anywhere,
somewhere like this,
a thing plopped down,
fallen from the sky,
splattering on the earth,
consumed by the soil,
muddied footprints and all
trudging through the wilderness,
carving a path of existence
breaking branches and
scattering bread crumbs

Still I am me,
standing tall among the taller,
enjoying the shade,
sipping lemonade and eating apple dumplings,
pushing, not pulling forward,
dreaming, (of course)
regardless of tire tracks and scars
or pointed fingers,
Pounding the pavement,
laying a foundation,
driven beyond

Parking lot base,
asphalt themed destinations,
a checkerboard of last rites and dead batteries,
yellow lines on the horizon,
handicapped up front
Looking out over the valley,
watching the world go by,
admiring the beauty,
loving life,
rejoicing in the fact
that it is all so immensely
vast . . .

as am I

clandestine calculations on ticker tape streamers
add to up to nothing in the vast scheme of time and space

when words fall from trees like levees breaking,

**** it

girl scouts to the rescue, if cookies can float
lined with sand bag intentions while rising waters
recede faster than the hairline of the mayor pro tem
collecting donations as his sister jumps rope
tied to the anchor of his city washing down the street

cleaning the gunk and glitz from gutter spammers
stealing passwords and paper boats
from unsuspecting children taking the day off from school
because the rains came and lemon trees no longer leaked
when anyone was looking,

ah lemon trees,

very pretty

“Violins are for sissies” she said
“I play violin” I answered
“I like sissies” she replied

.

The grapes,
dangling from a leafy vine,
an off-season vintage
in well water dreams
where I come out the victor,
the gallant one
who leads her from the wine
to savor the brandy
poured slowly,
steadily
with affection

but

It is just a dream,
as I awaken
to realize
the alcoholic content
does not meet the region
along a hillside vineyard,
dripping into a café carafe
tempting fruits
that are far sweeter
than something
produced
with feeling

.

What can I say
that she's not heard before
so many voices are calling

Where can I find
every poetic word
so in my arms she'll be falling

How can I stand out
a face in the crowd
from all the others now showing

Coerce her eyes
till she sees no one else
gazes my way now are flowing

When will it be
till I'm all that she wants
another her heart, won't be stealing

What can I say
that she's not heard before,
so she will know how I'm feeling

I never really knew
what goodbye meant,
until she said it to me

.

Like a tin roof

she shelters
my heart

for I know she
is near

when I hear the rain

Silent through threatening skies,
beneath a cloudbank of tethered realities
it floats on gasping winds of final breaths,
smoky residue of lives squandered

For this is its place
among the ruins of society,
screeching along desolate highways
of fallen fences and shattered exit signs

Picking at the pieces of wasted dreams,
fragments of past relationships and
shards of broken hearts
splintering the bleak landscape

Thriving on a saddened carcass
rotting in the face of time,
reaching for minutes which have
long since been stopped

Oh what a life, it cackles,
following echoes of pleading voices
seeking that fresh meat,
rancid memories to be cast aside

As this is its idea of heaven,
eternity at the crossroads,
an intersection of stupidity and hopelessness,
where it shall feed forever

.

The rain has stopped,

the sun is shining bright
in blue September skies

and she is happy,
making the world

a more beautiful place

wherever she smiles

.

Where will the circus fall,
leaving giraffes homeless,
as pitched tents get pitched
and sideshow freaks
become the norm,
guessing someone’s weight
who doesn’t care

When the sun sets
tablecloth desires
on a silverware runway
with dishes made of gold
and wine glasses half full
are spilled in sad regrets

Will I walk alone
on a cobblestone road,
counting windows without shades
laced with flat screen televisions
tuned to the wrong channel,
reruns in Technicolor

Broadcasting seeded visions
in open fields of tall grass
when Eric Burdon sang
and cherry trees once stood
producing the fruit
of a past I no longer
want to see

Where will the circus fall,
where will I fall

.

A daffodil sang
love songs

to a lonely butterfly

as we shared a kiss
among the tulips

while listening

.
*Just staring out the window
Watching patterns dance upon asphalt
Hypnotized by the rhythm
As the rain keeps pouring down
Dripping in a steady stream from the roof eaves
Forming puddles on the once dry surface
Running off to some unknown location
Absorbed by the earth
And I wonder - why is the sky crying?
Then I look in my heart and see you are not there
And I understand

.

I look for the truth
as I follow deception
Seek happiness
neath the darkest of skies
Whistle a tune
when my last breath is leaving
Accept the pain
as the mourning dove cries

Call out your name
when the echoes defeat me
Stand on my mark
while I’m pushed to the side
Harbor my strength
in a weakened dimension
Live everyday
when it feels I have died

Chasing a dream
that is still running faster
Lost in the scene
fading farther from sight
Penning a poem
with hope you will read it
Sending some love
in the words that I write

Then if I see
I have made your life better
Squinting my eyes
in your bright smile’s glow
I’ll walk away
as a teardrop is falling
With a goodbye
that I wish was hello

.

Without you life has no meaning
A lonely book upon a shelf
Stories held for no one reading
Waiting silent by myself

Pages turned with nothing written
Chapters come without a clue
Words repeat in shades of darkness
Sentences of lonely due

Without you there’s no direction
Empty highways ramble on
Stark and barren roads dividing
Moving constant on my own

Painted lines without an ending
Solitude at every cost
Seeking all but finding nothing
Always on the edge of lost

Without you there is no music
Lyrics sung that do not rhyme
A violin whose strings are missing
Loneliness three quarter time

Melodies in empty function
Concert halls without a stage
Choruses now gone forever
Notes erased upon the page

Without you there is no reason
Nothing but an empty heart
Never beating, always waiting
Longing for a brand new start

Opened wide as you I beckon
Fill my world with wondrous view
It’s true, my life would have no meaning
If my life was without you

.

Death in the streets
Sidewalks of blood
Innocent souls
Slaughtered in the name of...

Monsters and demons
Life does not matter
Panick and fear
By heartless ******* who...

Claim it's their deed
Praising a shadow
Twisting its words
Till terror becomes...

A way of life
Behind locked doors
Under the covers
Wondering why...

All our governments do is...

Apologize

.

When sleepless evenings

endlessly gather in lonely hours
keeping you from your dreams

I feel bad because I love you,

but wonder if this is the reason
that every night

you are in mine

.

Parallel visions and sifted thoughts
on an amber thread, thin as the beliefs
once found as hope, now falling
beneath sorrowed wings gently gliding

Through hazy eyes and broken tears,
tarnished memories flow within this dawn
as you fade off in the distance, soaring ever higher,
disappearing beyond the horizon

Silence fills the maze that is your mind,
leaving you staring at dead ends and fractured turns,
as the realization that you didn’t matter
forms on clouds of whispering breaths and no one cares

And in the end, you are not sure yourself
from where you once came, a blotted image
on empty shorelines of tangled debris
which may be easily forgotten but endlessly haunts

Still you fly on, seeking those patterns,
abstract meanings that flourish within
the heart of this wanderer, eyes focused
on all of the beauty that awaits

For you know she sits, above the border,
just past the last exit of sadness, dreaming,
always dreaming the same, you do matter,
you do, to her

.

Your ink,
sadly spilling
on fresh tablecloths
with torn lace trim
beyond paper napkins
absorbing the smiles
you should be smiling

Darkened tear drops
drenching emotions,
free flowing sorrows
collected in fractured phrases,
penned stanzas now
erasing happiness
in dull pink smudges

When just outside
the sun sits behind heavy drapes
drawn tightly closed
on panoramic picture windows
waiting to frame the beauty
of spring for your eyes
in nature’s poetry

So open them,
(your eyes and the drapes)
behold the wonder
where small children play
and laughter scents the air
allowing light to enter that ink,
your ink