In one facet I shouldn't complain  
In the right light I'm relatively sane
Like a prism broke down exposed and laid out
You see the dark in contrast surrounds
The image is muddled with two thoughts of mind
Strokes of different intentions,Where colors cross lines
Are the outcomes the same to all those who view this?
Some get up close and others keep distance
Some see the whole and others the strokes
If to only see what they're seeing I hope.

Trust no one.
All will deceive you.
Trying to ensnare.
Holding you to their lies.
Cloaks for disguise
Masks for the fools.
A ball for all those.
Who dance with the flys.

True faces are hidden.
When verbiage employed.
Intentions unbalanced.
As they allude to the truth.
Hearts have been missing.
Your misplacement enjoyed.
Lured to intentions.
The light ****** from you.

In the gas light district
We can walk along
Shadows dance eloquent
To a flickering song
Of a memory to be
As we continue to talk
Crisp Airy feelings
Awaken a dawn
This heart on my sleeve
You say a corsage
Looks better on you
We Agree
With a smile and a nod.

when the telephone rang
at six in the morning
four days before Christmas Eve
   I knew
things were not right

they told me
   my father had died
   at three in the morning
   and would I please come by
   arrange for the burial
   and collect his belongings
at the senior citizens home
where he had spent
the last four years
of his life

they had rested him nicely
he looked at peace
I kissed him on his forehead
   like I always had
   at the end of my visits
and cast a last long look at his figure
   before the body would be taken away

    and suddenly I noticed
       how big his hands were
    they’d never seemed so prominent before

as if in death they sent me a reminder
of how much he had loved his hands
   for work   for play  for sports
   for fight and for survival
   to point and to gesticulate
      they held me as a baby and
         some times
      slapped me as a child
   they repaired toys   split wood
   built sheds   drove cars and motor bikes
   were patient and precise
   caressed and soothed and loved

they were his life
they held his world

my father’s hands