Inside they are dead,
yet, ******* the ideas
from the head
still, my plea is
creativity at any cost.

Allow the mind-Vamps
to have their way
to put on their stamp
and win the day,
even then not all is lost.

For creative ideas must flow
to the marketplace
lest they die or lose that glow
better to expose to the grace
and it be used, not tossed.

When I was young I dreamed of riding a horse of blazing white, over and over, most every night. Through the neighborhood we would go, riding under clotheslines full of hanging sheets white as snow. I am not sure what the dream means, but I try to go back there every night it seems.

LOVE
When I looked into your eyes I lost my soul.
You captured the part of me that is my essence.
Return my love, or not; no matter.
Still, you possess me.
by C. R. Binion

"Pull my finger", Granpere said,
as he lay dying in his bed.
So I pulled his finger,
and started crying.
"Stop crying Pony I'm still alive,
it only smells as if I died."

by C. R. Binion

OLD?
Young people say that I am old and gray,
Not worth the powder, to ******* away.
I just shake my head and laugh and say,
If you are lucky, you’ll be the same way.
I may be old, and as for the hair of gray.
That shows experience, and time’s sway.
If you think, getting old is bad, and punitive.
Spend a little time to think of the alternative.

C R Binion

Looking for love, which is not there…feeling, not seeing.
Shivering, shake it off, life is not fair…still, is it Dad or Mom?
Both have been gone…dying in my youth…beyond the rim of my reality.
Still I feel them, radiating love…knowing the truth…of my spiritual malady.

by C. R. Binion

Imagine
When you were young life was young
You knew no bounds you were free
to imagine all the future possibilities
Before the love of your life locked you into
your ill-fated destiny.  By CRBinion