What a fool I was , undignified
to light one up at the funeral,
the mourners gasped, as I blew you that
one last shotgun , as I promised you
I would that day we met in April
1967 at the love-in
on the hill the new rock bands playing
songs of peace and love so beautiful
the flowers and  kisses being gave
out so freely and we got so high
promised if you died I'd give you one
last shotgun to take you smiling out
to wherever it is ole' hippies
go

if every cloud has a silver lining
that's gonna make for some heavy rain
underneath this sky, i am finding
myself being crushed, and drenched in pain

another poem about a poet
another poem about a poem
another poem about poetry
i feel so much alone

finding depth in the shallows
by hiding under stones
dying without any oxygen
now i am drifting bones

another poem about a poet
another poem about a poem
another poem about poetry
i feel so far from home

(i promise that this will be my last poem about poetry, or a poetry site.)

from this
vantage point
the world is
smaller than
we previously
thought, birds fly
alongside us,
cars that roared
before are
silenced,
we swim
in a sea of blue, 
a view that 
sharpens what
we already knew;
that this world is
beautiful,
a feeling that if
bottled
would be taken
in the traffic
jams & hospitals
& we would
see the Earth as a
speck of dust
floating
through a
Galaxy
much bigger
than us

My darling
if ever any other woman were to  kiss me
all she would taste is you.

In times of uncomfortable, we struggle here in this here Life.
We feel overcome by our struggle or pain that we deal with.
But with each passing of it, we realize that we are stronger.
Knowing that once more the Creator of the Heavens above.
Has strengthen us with his renewing strength that comes from him.
For his Holy Spirit resides within us, helping us to be a over comer.
Thus revealing God our Lord is our Savior and Lord that saves us.
For he gave not to condemn us, but to open our eyes to sin here.
So that through his Help and obedience we can lay down our sins.

My hand swiftly moves on the paper,
Inking each page,
With words full of love,
In such haste,
To assimilate the broken strings,
Of this writers block that I had been pulled in.