There was sadness and despair
For one thousand years;
Today I bet on the horses
Racing in Kildare.

What does it mean
If I dream
My pen leaked
Down my shirt pocket
Designing
A Rorschach heart?

When you find peace in my arms,
Deny chance.
I craddled seedlings to the table
By weeding.
I made undirected costume changes
And revealed a mask beneath skin.
I opened doors for children and the aged.
I played, and sang along.

When you find comfort in my arms,
Deny luck.
I helped lift the disenfranchised,
Extended deadlines,
And refused entitlements.
Causes wore away my soles
Carrying loved ones both ways.
We buried hatchets between friends.

When you find love in my arms,
Deny coincidence.
I learned from teachers
Love is manifest in sacrificess
Wrapped with obligation.
My arms are tired,
Yet I will embrace all.
And thus, I caress you.

If we could PVR our lives,
We'd pause at moments
Of delight;
Rewind when memory's
Not quite right;
Fast forward during
Times of strife;
Hit mute if we get too loud,
Reboot when we act too proud.
I've moments like
A satelite stream
Of unseen waves
Directing themes
In 3D pixels,
And onetime dreams.

The mass for the dead
Envigorates me.
I'm never more alive
Than when I hear about Lazarus,
With Martha setting about,
And Mary running out
To greet her Master.
I'm at a very busy place.
This is critical to the faith.
The knell surrounds the neighborhood
Before dying over the lake, for good.
None suggested, none expected
To return alive.
This question is just hanging there,
Like IN+RI.

The fireworks last night
Gave me insight
To your insight
On *******.

The pastries are tempting,
     But my little voice speaks.
Drinks spill into my cup,
     My little voice speaks up.
There's a beauty needing company,
     But my little voice starts warning,
And I'm hard of hearing.

Today, International Women's Day.
I wish the whole world believed.

In that country
They played Red Rover.
We know who
Was called over.

In that country
The played Red Light, Green Light.
That tanked.

In that country
They played Mother May I?
Not yet.

In my country
We play *Blind Man's Bluff.

Expectations were soaring

The invitation addressed:

Me and a Guest.

Expectations were tense.

The last suitcase labelled.

I shaved in my mirror.

Gave the shoes a black shine.

(Pulled back the flap,
Laid a grip on a bottle,
Gave it full throttle)

Expectations were high.

I saw the mailman

Wasn't far from my drive;

Still facing the northwind

The mailman

Walked by.

Expectations can lie.

Forever and ever
Without a choice,
Roofs were raised
In booming voice:
God the Father.
Proclaimed the choir.

In our two millenia,
The communal host blessed pro-choice,
With Omni-this and Omni-that:
Christ the Son.
Christ has won.
The carollers rejoice.

The Spirit transubstantiates
With tongues of creativity;
Is One with femininity.
What greater God!
What Trinity!

Forever and ever
Without a choice,
Roofs were raised
In booming voice:
God the Father.
Proclaimed the choir.

In our two millenia,
The communal host blessed pro-choice,
With Omni-this and Omni-that:
Christ the Son.
Christ has won.
The carollers rejoice.

The Spirit transubstantiates
With tongues of creativity;
Is One with femininity.
What greater God!
What a Trinity!

It's awe inspiring.
It's wonderous.
I truly believe.
I'm IN.
                                        but

I do wonder.
Doubt creeps in.
Then thought.
Now insight.
Now I don't.
I'm OUT!

We're in thrall.
Where's your wall?
You dump truck...
You fumb duck...
You other mother...
You worse than senseless thing.

In Heaven,
Human love
Needs
Divine distilling.

Pink eyes, and
     Teary cries.
He tries against
     Liting flies.  
Sticking lies.
     Goodbyes!

Trust a liar
To equivocate.

Trust a thief
Won't discriminate.

Trust your government
To disappoint.

Trust Justice
To miss the point.

Trust your parents
Til you find a voice.

Trust education,
If you want a choice.

Trust your friends
To have your back, front and sides.

Trust your children
With your life.

Trust your partner,
Like no other.

Trust one's self
More than anyone else.

Everyone,
To begin.
We have no choices,
Depending on gurgled voices
Recognized in utero.
Trust radar's not activated,
Despite the life experiences
Of our carriers.

White collars
Dig for gold
Wearing masks and gloves;
So we rely on eyes
Despite the hunger
Behind the disguise.

We are tied to swivel chairs
In block buildings
And asked to trust
As they notice the dirt
Beneath our nails
Ripe-red for pulling.
They want the correct answer,
Not the right one.

Love partnerships
Are unstable vessels
At  best.
We secure trust
In disposable
Jilted pirate chests
Waiting for discovery
In teary depths.

We find refuge
In our children,
Though we notice
Eyes roll and shift
As we age and drift.

In whom do we trust?
In the unborn
Who will
Live by our words,
And define the world
We leave in trust.

I believe love has an evil twin,
But I could be losing my mind.
There are petals on thistles,
And thorns on roses;
I can turn 360 or 180
And ride off in any direction.
Tales run like a loop in my brain,
Not recalling who's heard what,
I preface:
I've probably told you this before, but...
Is how any old story begins.
Deja Vu is my new life.
Every thought was once a poem
To be polished and revealed.
Today, they are intermittent.

I've been trolling old television series;
The Monkees were terrible then,
Terrible still;
The Three Stooges were best left in the memory vault;
Bonanza still has Ben wearing his beige vest;
Elizabeth Montgomery is still bewitching;
Jeannie is irritatingly attractive.
I must be leaking grey cells;
Rationality is creaking in my bone-head.

Our youth was seasoned
With greens and blues
When your skin scorched me.
Still burns.

Could we but flip
Pages like clock hands;
We need only agree,
And nocturnal waves
Would lap again,
And all the world
Would fall in time
Upon itself.

Elements, such as we,
Cannot.
Your present calendar
Has days X-ed off,
Days checked on.
Times have changed
Peoples and places.

I remain yours.

Warning: Use dis list in context.*

You decide on which side you fall.

disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair­
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
­disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinher­it
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
disput­e
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
di­scontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
d­ishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
­discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disappro­ve
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassocia­te
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
dis­combobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disemb­ark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disinteg­rate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
di­srupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse­
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder­
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
­distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
d­issuade

And dis isn't de end.

I have nothing against the person,
But the profession can be irksome.
You may get argumentative,
But that’s part of the dance:
To step on some toes.
So, I leave you to choose,
And add some of your own.
o Dentist
o Teacher (for the disenchanted/entitled)
o Oncologists
o Auto Mechanic
o Clerics
o Lawyers
o Funeral Persona

I'm waiting with certain trepidation
Assured my reality
Is in for something big.

The eleventh dimension
Can't assuage my dread.
There's something happening,
As big as Dead.

The cellphone's our new Nativity,
Destroying my old myths;
Where's the white salamander hurrying,
Spirits hoovering, aliens lurking,
Hairy bipeds in the forests,
Yetis in the snow.
Nothing soon forthcoming.
It all looks like Alberta.

I can't snap inside the sun,
Nor freeze-frame a revolution;
Or the moment one feels love;
But truth is self-evident.
And the facts are yet to come.

All the best stories,
My life-changing beliefs,
Need one still, a black and white will do;
Til then,
I'll suspend
Disbelief,
And sustain credence,
Close to the dark room.

Then we'll be the Magi,
Bowing, grovelling,
Awed and surprised.

You claimed it was a missile,
Me, a shooting star;
I saw a pickle,
Not a bearded face
In the jar.
Some see wee men,
Approaching their islands.
Cubes floating
In the Austral Ocean,
Warning our hopes are broken.
Janus faced usury
Tear-up for the bear;
Politicos in the chase
Have two mouths on their faces.
We surely landed on the moon;
When we're gone,
We're gone for good.
Bigfoot's not in the woods,
ESP's in the guts,
All paranormal is psychosis.
Too skeptical's obsessive neurosis.
What's one to believe.
I see Jekyll, you Hyde Island;
These stories are so overwhelming,
Growing in numbers with retelling.

Children aren't cruel
Because of their learning at school.
From earliest times,
They're fed on Nursury Rhymes
From Mother Goose,
Of children being fatted for the oven,
Jack breaking his crown,
Humpty got cracked,
The Duke got sacked,
And as fast as he could run,
The Gingerbread Boy
Never got home.

I drove under the overpass.
That would be an underpass.
Yesterday, I drove over
The underpass.
That is the overpass,
Above the underpass.

In squash, 99% of the ball
Is In-bounds on the red line,
But still 100% out-of-bounds.

In tennis, the ball
Is 99% out-of-bounds,
On the white line,
But still 100% In-bounds.

And, if I stand on my head long enough,
Our world seems up-side-down,
But really, it's right-side-up.

Life is like that.
Isn't it confusing?

I absorbed,
Blotted misery,
Lapped with eyes,
Soaked-up transgressions,
Mopped-up history,
Was steeped in trials,
Ingested triumphs,
And truly assimilated.
But the ground is saturated,
My prints fill
With the brine
Squeezed out.
I am the salt on the earth,
Parched and cracked.
You preferred candyfloss;
I dripped the last drop.

The Mutual Admiration Clubhouse
Is a Hall of Carnival Mirrors.

We need a biopsy
To diagnose hypocrisy
In American Democracy.

It's not natural.
If I can't smell it,
It ain't,
So don't tell me
It's as natural as birth.
You've seen the roadkill,
Deer missing the most natural of parts,
Lying in the strangest contortions;
Heard the bird
Breaking its neck on a window;
Then there's the gaping mouth,
Eyes staring most unnaturally.
To be burned and urned
And feel nothing.
Having a steak and beer
Is natural;
Sitting in sound at a McCartney concert
Is supernatural.
Expensive, but sensient.
But it,
It's most unnatural.

Memories aren't made to be broken,
Yet lie in shards, each piece
Refracting unframed pictures.

Promises aren't made to be broken,
But words are malleable.

Hearts are too often broken, quartered
And flung to the elements.

Spirit cannot be broken
Under any crushing worry.

And love,
Away or dwelling,
Encompassing love;
Battered, betrayed,
Exalted, praised;
Spent like money,
Treasured, yet free as air.
Most invulnerable,
Most vulnerable;
Frail and omnipotent.
Unbreakable.

If you've an itchy ***,
Scratch it 'til it brays.

Everyone
Was once the baby of the family.
Cuddled and cursed,
Fondled and blessed.
No one on earth compared to you.
You weren't beautiful,
You were stunning.
All eyes were watching
Every move commented on
Your falls were praiseworthy
Love was freely lavished
People... Strangers...
Wanted to pick you up
Hold and hug
Make eye contact
Feed you
Whisper silly things
Stroke your head
And show you to the world.
We're more reserved now
We can't do the above
As much as we'd like to
We'd be the ones
Behind bars.

I say
I love
You
Say you
Love me too.

I lift pens.
(You can never have enough of them)
Funeral Homes leave them lying around. They're the only good thing about Visitations.
Banks tie them down, but there are others, here and there.
There are those who want to take your pens too.
People with petitions are always asking to borrow a pen.
They want my ink and blood.
Be sure you get yours back.
I have a legit fountain pen collection.
Proud of my Parker I got in Oxford years ago,
During a different life that lead to this one.
Biff Loman lifted Mr. Oliver's pen,
After his epiphany.
Just runs in and steals it.
Am I a tragic figure as well?
Are we all playing our parts in
The Death of a Nation.

I'm aware of two certainties;
Certainly taxes isn't either one.

I sneezed into my elbow
At the grocery store;
All who were present turned,
Gasped and hit the floor,
As though I'd shot a gun.

I coughed in my elbow
While I was walking home;
The sidewalk cleared across the street,
As though I'd dropped a bomb.

While I was at my bank,
Four masked men pushed through the door.
No one notices anymore.

I awaken mornings feeling upbeat,
Praying my prayers set like concrete.
But No!
This repetitive routine has no soul.

Perhaps I'm praying wrong.
Perhaps He prefers a song,
A Hallelujah chorus
To **** of the Anti-Christ.
(but the Creature lives... it ***** up all our hopes).

I'll pray again tonight:

Now I lay me down to sleep.
And pray that God won't willfully keep
That blakened spot he calls his soul,
Dispatched to Hell for our repose.

Street plows
Push snow waves
To douse
My shovelled drive.

With the box lid closed
It's dark inside,
There are no colours
We can't abide.
But a golden sliver of light seeps in,
To expose the colours there within.
We see red when enraged,
And scarlet dancers crowd our stage;
A red-blooded male brags virility
Through rose-coloured glasses of masculinity.
Some grow green with envy,
Reveal they're yellow in enmity,
Are blue when feeling empathy,
Turn blue holding out for sympathy,
Are tickled pink with comedy,
And white as a sheet with tragedy,
Or brown-nosed with syncophany.
If your yellow-bellied you may run,
And green-gilled after Jamaican ***,
Write purple prose when versifying,
Ashen coloured when you're dying.
True colours show outside the box,
Use grey cells to colour unorthodox.
Our true colours are harlequin,
That fade to black at our end.

If in love,
It's a crime scene.
Raise your hands.
Fall on your knees.
Wrap yourself in yellow tape.
Surrender.
Find a window to look out on the world.
Walk in the compound.
Contemplate a break out.
You're in love,
And it's captivating.

Someone else always wins the lottery.
I've said,
It always happens to someone else.
That's what you'll hear about me,
When I win.
When I lose.

Good people pray for you.
Lend you a hand.
Attest for you.

Bad people prey on you.
Lay their paws on you.
Detest you.

It may take time to rise from this nightmare.
It's not something we ate,
Or something forced down our collective throats,
Like Kool-Aide.
Soon, we'll start the real body count,
And when all this ends,
It will begin again,
And the circle is unbroken.

The perimeter
Has been laid out;
A fine frame
To encase our landscapes.
We choose where to start,
Working from the top, bottom or sides,
And moving towards the middle ground,
Where land meets water,
The mountains are snow-capped,
The autumn skies are resplendent
With patterns of red and blue.
The copse is shadowy,
With dark green pines ******* soft clouds.
The white-capped lake will never quieten;
But we piece our puzzle.

We fell all the time.
It was a matter of balance.
Our inner ears and eyes
Struggled with gravity; and
Being upright is our gravest concern.
So, we always stood again,
Revolving around equilibriums:
Bikes, ledges and feet;
Everything was a test. Everything needed balance:
Wheelbarrows, roof peaks and checking accounts.

I've learned balance for adults
Is even more precarious.
Our words are heavily weighted,
And some more disproportionately than others,
With see-saw issues and teeter-totter opinions.

Isn't it easier to get back on the bike
Than walk back unbalanced arguments.

We're squeezed in a topsy-turvy
*****-ball world;
What's upside is down,
What's inside is out;
Your smile's a frown,
Your whisper's a shout,
And the flim-flam man
Just pitched a curve.
We're headed to second
After rounding third,
And first is stolen;
This game's absurd.
So, I gather up my bat and ball,
I've read the writing on the wall,
I've turned, running for home.
We've been tagged on bad calls.
We were safe, but now we're out,
Exiled, banished, conflicted, confused,
There's nothing good on the news.
The umps and refs have all been turned,
We've been benched,
We've been spurned.
Behind me,
Someone calls out,
     *Play Ball;

The death of a somebody
Is life affirming.
My favorites attend
In the ante-room,
Eyeshot from the shell.
They appeared to be telling
Off-colored jokes,
Childish giggles, anxious glances.
Others talked nervously on their health,
Their swing and trips, car salesmen, and politics.
Violet remarked on the wedding, the bride's redolent dress,
Brocade and settings.
The vows were personal and promising.
Funeral Home is an ironic euphamism;
But the coffee is strong and bitter,
I burned my tongue.
I didn't see much black, mostly pastels.
It's a multi-media presentation of family,
Old and getting precariously older,
Cavorting at the cottage,
Sitting under Christmas trees,
Holding up scarves and mittens.
Everyone smoked then. Everything's hidden.
Someone's grandson touched his hand,
Then recoiled into the nearest waist.
Except for the flowers and box,
There was vibrancy and planning
Where to meet following the graveside,
For a drink and toast to why we're here,
To why any of us are here at all.

Lights are twinkling,
My eyes are blinking,
Bulbous deer are shaking.
Across the street
Bloated Santa Claus
Rocks to the season's flaws.
It's Christless time again.

The trees are hewn,
Stores are spewing
Free wrapping,
Ribbons and bows.
Wreaths are hung,
Good tiding flung,
Frosty's song is sung.
It's Christless time again.

We've planted seed
That feeds the greed
In the old and young.
We know the songs
That should be sung
To vanquish mammon.
But it's Christless time again.

Still, on that Eve
Gift reprieve
With a silent, Holy Night.
Hear the bells
From distant years,
Before the yule log light.
It's Christmas time again.

Sure, it's easy to define life.
Explain everything using the variable,
X.