I am tired of poor perspectives,
of the hues that abuse the views
of abstract paths and messed up avenues.

I am tired of prior cues,
signal that set poets on cruise
as the roads roll up
like the broken blunt
used to burn through
the black and soulful blues.

I am tired of the cutsie fluff
that distracts us from the stuff
we should be paying attention to.

But mostly I am tired of
the muffled muse I once used
being stretched and torn
to make other artists conform
to the boring norm
of trying to sale things
we don’t need.

A little lady cardinal
One morning perched upon my deck,
Spying the seeds I had placed there,
Hungrily, she began to peck

Soon she was joined by her lover,
With his "tweetheart" he came to dine;
What a lovely couple they made,
Standing there underneath the pine

I stood in awe of their courtship,
Then came a moment of mystique --
Lovingly, he took a peanut
And gently placed it in her beak

His wing lifted to caress her,
So much in love they seemed to be;
Tears started to well in my eyes,
Seeing love's pure simplicity

Suddenly, there appeared a hawk,
A dark shadow touring the sky,
All chirping hushed, fear filled the air,
And then sounded the warning cry

All the birds in the area
Sought trees, left and right they did veer,
But little lady cardinal
Just sat there, paralyzed with fear

Death was gliding on wings outspread,
Lady cardinal in his sight;
Then down he swooped to claim his prize,
Suddenly her lover took flight

Up he flew into death's cold grasp,
Downward fluttered a tattered wing;
Satisfied with his handsome catch,
The hawk soared away, revelling

The red bird gave his life for love,
But his bravery was not in vain,
Each dawn finds his lady grieving,
Singing for him her sad refrain

One hug can collapse
my inner galaxy,
bringing me to the verge of tears.
Till I push them back
confused
by the strangeness
of my own madness.

Looking at a blank screen
With a blank stare
And an even blanker mind

Where are the words that
Used to tumble *****-nilly
From a churning creativity
ljm

My devil is in a spire,
of desires climbing higher,
of passions that inspires
strands of humanity
too burn in the same fire
that is my ever-loving ire.

My angel resides
on the other side
of my dreaming demon mind,
passed parallel dimensions
as specters whisper
their spiritual intentions
to haunt me from
kingdom come
and back again.

Vipers spitting poison,
while lesser men
are poised to win,
but I take pleasure in
always struggling
to gain a single inch,
always crawling,
and scrawling
little bits of brilliance.

Sitting in some strange setting,  
but I am not a man for betting,
the books are closed,
the dice predisposed
to poorer roles,
and all the polls
are filled with ill-intent.

Here I am
somnambulant
sleeping, but moving
in minor increments,
so I can grasp the dreams
that stir within
my weary mind,
jot them down before
they fade like autumn leaves
crumbling in the breeze
and exiting.

In this writing you may find
a treasure chest or a pile of ****,
a bowel of bananas or more excrement
it all depends on how you look at it.

The fear is that I will disappear,
and no one will even notice
that I am no longer here.

The concern is I can’t stop this
pointless
rhyming scheme,
which has become
sickening.

Between these two things
I know there is so much
that I am certainly missing.

Maybe the deeper fear is
in focusing on what is clearest
I am really missing a
whole world of connections.

This is the comedy of life
I guarantee that by night
You will either laugh or cry

This is the tragedy
Life is full of irony
And all of it borders on insanity

And this my dear is the funny part
Life is so hilarious that it will break your heart
Before you even start

I love to dance
I like the way
The colored light just hits your skin

I love the way
It tends to stay
So surfaced, and just not sink in

I like how I can smile and laugh
I like how you can run a chat
I love how both of us can tell
We'll never make it close to that

I love to dance
I like it how
My every thought is in the now

I love it when
My guard is down
And all that I tend to allow

I like how that drink tends to sit
I love the way it makes me think
I know the paths that I might take
I love how it just makes me sink

One day ago
rays of gold
strayed from the fold
falling and following
paths unknown,
exposing things
unshown,
nourishing plant
ungrown.

Sometime
in the past
I sat back
and basked
in that
brand new light,
felt the rush
and blush
of new warmth
rising from within
ready for the sharing,
nurturing and caring
to conquer previous
shades of despairing.

Now, I am replenished.
My spirit once diminished
stands elevated and nourished
by the cherished light,
even though that glorious ray
has given way to the end of the day
and now I lay in evening shade,
I still sing its sweet praise.

We all long to be heard,
have them listen to our
well-intentioned words,
as we rewrite our world
turning in favor of
savoring the love
instead, of simmering in
the big batch of boiling
hatred and stupidity.

I need one more poem tonight
but I can’t decide
what I want or need to write
about this real or
fictional life.

The glower grows
as glows a shiny nose
of silly whispered prose,

a wisp of wasted wind
that could have cooled
your sweat glistened skin,

a tiny tower where
Rapunzel lays her hair,
a glorious mane
that stories share,

a stray verse
spread to those
who wear tradition’s clothes
in dreamy hopes
that they will tread bare
and release the poet
that reside somewhere
under there.

She is a beautiful echo
from so long ago,

a strange smiling face
that I no longer know.

Still, her presence presents
the emergence
of old feeling,

stirrings from dead synapses
reviving a past that is
something I didn’t even know
I missed.

Almost twenty years
since we were close friends
working the weekends
at Long John Silver
slash A and W.

A similar smile
beckons back
old feelings that
I thought were dead.
  
I know this is just
in my head
but we agreed
when we were forty
if we were single
we’d be together.

I am almost there
and she is right behind me.
I know this is a feckless daydream
but to live in it
I’d gladly go on sleeping
keeping the hopeful heart
of a younger me
returning
in love with
someone
I haven’t seen
in over fifteen
years.