We are clay in the hands of Donatello
Waiting for our role
With hopes of one day becoming whole
To receive knowledge voraciously and to grow
To harden and weather in Summer sun
To serve as a reminder for our future
sons
To embody them with the spirit to carry on* ....

i've lost the feeling
of love
i push my mind to the brink
willing it to remember
cradling it with memories
hoping my senses
will recall the familiarity
   of touch
     longing
         anticipation
but there is
   nothing
except i do feel
an ache
deep within
a void
   emptiness
not broken
but not fixed
unexplainable
so not missed
my mind says i haven't given up
but my body says
let it go.

wishing I had just gone fishing
instead of drinking
sank a worm in the pond
I didn't so I am thinking
of you

finishing another round
now getting logical again
a song comes into my head
I can't find the name of it
you drown

me on the end of a hook
in the pond and mesquite
swirling river of Tequila
like a cricket
in a bream's mouth

hungry on the bottom
of the creek

We might have made love
In the bed of roses: A bed of fragrant flowers 
As we consummate the joy of true love: at age sixty

where the pursuit of pleasure: is a taboo subject
where the Bailey Irish Cream warms our soft lips:

We might have reversed the aging process, because
our bodies become fascinating and seductive: coherent kingdom

We might have rattled the monkey cage: like epic lovers growing old
With one thing on our minds: we follow our hearts

i read your tumbled thoughts
through your eyes
the mirrors to your soul
and they speak sadness
discontent
unease
and woe
they cannot see the brightness
of the sky
the beauty of clouds
nor hear the sing song melody
of birds way up high
consumption of bitterness
has directed your being
into becoming
an angry individual
a hateful person
vengeful
jealous
contemptuous
i search for the softness
the love
the forgiveness
but i find none
your misery is too strong
and the force of it
makes me abandon you
forget you
toss you to the curb
to live out your pain
all alone.

You only watch the news to find out
Where the con artist stands,
He opens his mouth and nonsense comes out
This is going to be my last poem,
this is going to be my last rant before casting my vote
and where this poem goes,
Probably, no other man has gone before,
Deep into the hearts of the American people

A politician needs the ability to foretell,
what is going to happen tomorrow,
next week, next month, and next year.
And to have the ability afterwards to explain why it didn’t happen
- Winston Churchill

With these two candidates all I am hearing leading up to the election
Is about missing e-mails conspiracy
Aggravated indecent assault,
Lawsuits and the fondling of other women’s *****

I can see Russia from my house, said Sarah Palin some time ago
I can foresee the paint peeling off the white house wall, in solidarity..
And where the grass is not greener on the other side
Is where the American would feel the full weight of democracy
in the  America political games,

I can see immigrant migrating and some departing daily
I can see Delta, JetBlue and other airlines keep making money
Last but not least do bear in mind…that

There are two things that are important in politics. The first is money, and I can’t remember the second
- Mark Hanna