Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
The Poet's Corner wants to fill me.
My Doctor warns me of the danger,
already one leg is gone,
though I want all four limbs to be done with,
I strain not to be altered by
anything other than myself.

Tall trees laying down
with broken backs.
It looks a mess out there,
so man gets busy and does
what man does best.  They
commence to cutting corners.

Inside four walls I begin to cut
with a rusty pen knife
and the infection spreads.
I didn't do it for the show of it all,
I did it out of an old, old ghost
that just won't leave me alone.
This one is a bit twisted, I was hangin' out with a fellow poet drinkn lots a ***. we just lived down the street from each other when hurricane Juan hit, it ripped out big elms leaving large holes in the ground and damaging many homes when they were in the paths of the falling trees.  The last verse was speaking of how I can do myself wrong when my thinking is off, I was speaking metaphorically... hope u enjoy. My son saw the pic. I posted on FB and he says "it takes juan to know juan"  :) apple dont fall too far from da tree..
Vast point of view,
you can see for miles,
while your son plays games
on the computer, being
he is only four
and still dons a diaper.

Moving through the machine,
a black and white display of  un-colour,
dodging back and forth
while the minutes go in and out,
or do they stick around
in one great unbroken weave.

Nothing to worry about,
embrace this moment
and savour the thought of savouring it.
I just want to sit here
and sip my wine
and dream of the grandiose.

A toast to this
and a toast to that,
they are all on automatic.
spontaneity does not move
well through the machine,
there is always a glitch.
Give me the time of day in the daylight
I will poke a hole in my shadow
Can I incorporate myself so I don't have to pay taxes?

If it's dark  the imitation  light
throws its grey-black silhouettes against an old-brick wall
It makes me shrug, my back curls and I put my hand on my hat

The 'leaders of the world' show they're in it for the money
Money needed by the renters and the hungry before they go under
But instead they'll bail out the large banks and corporations

They need a swift poke in the ribs, their soul is black, no light, no
shadows cast. I can't tell you how to fix it but things must change
Stop making things legal so they can steal, it's not right, it's illegal
Don't go poking them
    What good is that.

Don't sit on the sidelines
        when they try to take
                    you to the mat.

We can all make changes for the better
if only in our small part of the world.

I won't give up on Peace
  even if it kills me to do it.
If you
Want to shoot
From the hip
Make sure
You're not firing blanks.

Anyone worth their salt
Will tell you to be yourself
Then step aside to let you find that self.

Run from those
Who claim to see  
The truth too clearly
And with those that want to
Meet me I say...

"Meet me half way,
Then there is no extra mile".

Leaders
Have in mind,
To lead.
Preachers..
They want to preach.

Story Tellers tell stories,
Some, fact filled,
Others are sprinkled
With truths, still others
Are boldface fabricated fiction.

Looking within to find
The answers I've come to know
To be genuine..
And with Wisdom comes
The pain of responsibility.

A responsibility
That resides in the acts one does
Or the lack of action
One chooses not to do.

Others don't hear you
From where you're at,
They hear from where
They are at.
  
Either it's
'Pearls before swine'
or a gentle reminder
to heed or discard.

Knowing a whole lot of
Not much at all
I remain eager to learn
More of The Mystery.

My aim is to walk
Shoulder to shoulder,
Not ahead of nor behind
For in the moment I can see
where once I was blind.

"Don't Worry, Be happy"
So easy to say, at times
So hard to do,
"The Proof is in the Pudding
and the Puddings in the fridge".

And with that,
The last quote
Will have to do.
"If you don't think you're ****, no one else will"
  - Zachary Mac Pherson
Back to the
subtle pool
of dark and deep
that law below
illumination.

Wriggling,
slippery
scales
in a pool
so deep
it is hard to see.

Down the hall,
in the realm
of control,

pulling into light
a dark shadow,
maybe  two,
but one.

Pull it close,
to touch it
in mind.
To know it
and own it
and to let
it go
into a
watershed
of tears.

To eat  
its self
and
its own.
To be chewed
by its kind.

So deep
and dark
and
subtle,
this
fooling
pool
of mind.


© 2005
All rights reserved.
Back to the
subtle pool
of dark and deep
that lay below illumination.

Wriggling slippery
scales of black
in a pool
so hard to see
so hard
to grasp.

Down the hall
in the realm of control,
pulling into light a dark shadow.

Maybe two, but one.

Pull it close
to touch it in mind,
to know it and own it
and to let it go.

So deep and dark
and subtle and fooling
this pool of mind.
Back to the
subtle pool
of dark and deep
that lay below illumination.

Wriggling, slippery
scales of black
in a pool
so hard to see,
so hard to grasp.

Down the hall
in the realm of control,
pulling into light a dark shadow.

Maybe two, but one.

Pull it close
to touch it in mind,
to know it and own it
and let it go.

So deep and dark
and subtle and fooling,
this pool of mind.
Like the sour
taste in your mouth,
or the canker sore
on the tip of your tongue.

The sweet taste
of mother's milk
stopped up
for formula.

Poor child,
a curse that
leaves him
clutching
for a latex ******.
Like the sour
taste in your mouth,
or the canker sore
on the tip of your tongue.

The sweet taste
of mother's milk
stopped up
for formula.

Poor child,
a curse that
leaves him
clutching
for a latex ******.
Like the sour
taste in your mouth,
or the canker sore
on the tip of your tongue.  

The sweet taste
of mother's milk,
stopped up,
for formula.

Poor child,
a curse that
leaves him
clutching
for a latex ******.
I went to an open mike tonight and me and a fella stepped out to burn one, when we finished I double check to make sure my car doors are locked. He say's to me.. "You got a touch of the O.C.D. eh, don't worry, all musicians have it, it's a good thing. You know, practice practice practice. "  I kid you not... true story!
I wish I could say
I love you with all my heart

But the truth is that
I am just getting to know you

You give me grace to grow
But still I blow it off

I feel like a babe
Learning how to crawl

My heart seems full of fear
Most times I choose to ignore it

If you are giving me the truth
Please open my ears to hear it

This flash in a pan that is a lifetime
Surely there is more than a few decades

I am afraid to pray for strength
Believing you will test me along the way

You are my only hope
Without you I'm dead in the water

Why hide in plain sight
It makes it hard to see the simple

Like the all knowing eye
On the dollar bill daily visible

So in the open that it is ignored
Just like the fear I crawl away from
Don't fool with me,
make me feel like I don't know English.
Track me down and tell me it's easier to learn French.

Once you think you know French they tell you that you got it all wrong.
You need to know Canadian French. If it wasn't for poutine I'd build a wall around Quebec.

Any how if I didn't use enough modifiers with my Verb string me up
And who cares anyway, just some tired Academic that tries to say
he teaches people.

If anyone wants to say wrong again then the only thing they can do is teach. And like they say, if you can't do, teach.

In conclusion  ( like I'm writing an essay). To which I state the dictionary's definition of Predication could use a little plain language, or maybe I should learn Chinese. Just for their beautiful Characters.
Around
And
Around
We went
Up and down
We went
To and fro
We went.

When the stench
From the dead decaying bodies
Became so strong
That you couldn't walk the streets.

All that could be done
Was stay in the house
With lit candles
And plenty of incense.

No one knew quiet what happened
Who was it that fired first.
Not that it mattered
It just left tall buildings
and people splattered

What to do? Well first thing
Is to clean up what mess you can
And burn and bury the lifeless bodies.
While wiping tears from your eyes
Before they soaked the bandanna over your mouth

Too stunned to be thankful you're not
Among the dead or dismembered.

All this mess and those who started it.
Trump and his needling every leader
that crossed his mind, and cross their mind he did
Trump and his money, where is he to hide it now.

His towers lay in ruin
Most major cities were hit hard
Now it's a matter of survival,
Where to get food and water
That can still be consumed.

All this chaos,  whom to blame.
Well it's all of us, we are to blame.
A Poppy abreast,
       stamping us all
          prisoners of war.

Will there ever
    be the day when
      there is no Warrior.

The blood red Poppy,
   symbol of death, sedation,
     pain relief, numbness, remembrance.

Will the poor flower
   ever recover, being cast
      in  a  most  Heroic  role.

I long for the day
  when there will be
      War    no     more.

No longer,
   any more,
     Prisoners of War.
No disrespect intended. My father fought in the Korean War. The only thing he ever said about it was that he was glad to get out of the army and into the air force because he didn't have to march for miles and miles anymore.
Under nourished being of a human being,
Gobbling up the cobble stones on a stroll through town.

Mispronounce the words on the page
Of a book you mistook for the gospel.

Someone will shoot you some bones,
Then when all alone you'll draw your comfort up in a spoon.

You lay waste to a world that everyone puts such stock in.
Thumbing your nose at rich and poor alike.

Trickling down through the roots, your behaviour stains loved ones
With a work that blackens the eye of love.

I cannot turn my back but I will not be played while being betrayed.
I'll leave it to you to lift your own self out of the mire.

Your 'now' passes quicker than a blink of an eye. The time was now ten years past.
I see you, but I won't follow, leaving your slug trail that has the texture of spent ***.

Hollow eyes out of focus, viewing no pain that matters.
The death of you will stop your need.

Alone and unwanted, your sums worth tallied in the red.
No surprise there they will say, and so will I.
Everyone is telling me
They are giving up on TV
Too much propaganda they say

Yet they **** up those Hollywood films
They allow their emotions to be stirred
They say to themselves 'give 'em hell'

I must admit I do watch movies
I like to think I watch with a discerning eye
I like a good story but maybe I pollute myself

It's so easy sometimes to fool ones self
The ego is a slippery ***** of self righteousness
Being aware of what  'IS'  24/7 is more than hard

I hear people say 'what comes around goes around'
And I wonder if they think past this life
Karma knows no timeline in the way I understand it

The big questions are the ones that have no clear answer
That is not to say that they have no answer
That's not to say I don't have to look for the answer

'Seek and you shall find' puts the responsibility on me
'Row row row your boat gently down the stream
Merrily merrily merrily life is but a dream'

It's time to wake up from the nightmare
The thoughts you think the feelings you feel
They are strong medicine or they are a sick mind

It's hard not to judge but what you do when you notice
Makes all the difference in the Universe
Thank God I can change my thoughts
There's some propaganda for you.
Spine twisted recompense
and all that was, is not.

Fortune buried in a field
and you stand on the wrong
side of the fence with your plastic shovel.

Wisdom brings responsibilities pain.

If you hold too tight
to the kettle
you shall burn your arms.

What good to burn your arms.

Better to cut them off
and go through life
eating with your feet.

© copyright 2012  All Rights Reserved
hard lessons some times bear sweet fruit
Spine twisted recompense
and all that was,  is not.

Fortune buried in a field
and you stand on the wrong
side of the fence
with your plastic shovel.

Wisdom brings responsibilities pain.

If you hold too tight
hugging the kettle,
you shall burn your arms.

What good to burn your arms?

Better to cut them off
and go through life
eating with your feet.
From my first book NOTORIOUS Published 2004.
Spine twisted recompense
and all that was, is not.

Fortune buried in  a field
and I stand on the wrong
side of the fence
with my plastic shovel.

Wisdom brings responsibilities pain.

If I should hold too tight hugging
the kettle
I shall burn my arms.

What good to burn my arms.

Better to cut them off
and go through life
eating with my feet.



© 2005
Spine twisted recompense
and all that was, is not.

Fortune buried in a field
and you stand on the wrong
side of the fence with your plastic shovel.

Wisdom brings responsibilities pain.

If you hold too tight
hugging the kettle,
you shall burn your arms.

What good to burn your arms?

Better to cut them off
and go through life
eating with your feet.
She doesn't do landscapes,
She only does landfills.
No ocean liners on the sea,
Only shipwrecks on the bottom.

She states: Jesus was the best Riddler.
irving
She doesn't do landscapes,
she does landfills.
No ocean liners on the sea,
only shipwrecks on the bottom.

She states: Jesus was the best Riddler.
I hold my cards
close to my chest
on this night that is
oh so close.

No fan
to blow
air into my face,
not that it would
matter anyway.

The air
would just
remind me
that it is hot
this summer night.

I am drinking beers
while the fruit flies
are sharing with me.
No sense
in picking them
out of the cup..
more will arrive.

The woman
who lives upstairs,
how can she ride her bike,
on such a summer night.

I hear her,
it's the sound
of rowing,
a creak-creak-creak.

88 Willow,
the building with eight dwellings.

Through the open window
I hear a dog barking,
maybe two, three blocks away.

This building that I live in,
where the walls
are so thin
you know that
they have ears.
Have ears to hear.

Creak-creak-creak..
the woman is rowing,
her rowing machine rows
out into a great big sea
of imagination,
where there
is every kind
of sea creature
that you can conjure  
up in your mind.

And her
boyfriend, a fine
painter and sculpture.
He wants to do the
cover of my next book..

And I think, like that's ever going to happen.

My good friend
was over tonight,
he told me a story about
how he proposed
to his 'maritime' woman.

She cried and she cried
after she saw the ring,
not because it was so small,
but because she was
beside herself
in joyful delight.

I envy what it is they have,
but what they have
requires work, hard work.
They have one tried and true
partnership.

We talked about
reaching out to extended family,
as well as brothers and sisters in blood.

Me, of my own,
my father is turning eighty.
Eight decades and I know him not.
He fought
in the Korean War
and I've yet to ask him
about it.
Not once in my life time
has he even smelled
the wartime memories
that I am sure waft up
on occasion.

Now back to 88 Willow.

There is a drunkard
living in a basement apartment.
His legs are going
from wet brain.

He only calls me when
he is drunk.

He has two drinks and
he starts fumbling worse
than a line backer
intercepting
a foreword lateral pass.

I don't want to move,
though I know I have to,
to keep on keeping on,
I've got to move,
I have to move.


© 2013
Tidied it up a bit  
All Rights Reserved.
If you can't stand the heat get out of the *******'
Argue for your limitations and they are bores
You're only as wrong as your weakest link
The kingdom of leaven is within
You can't serve two *******
Only the good die fun
joe king
Sometimes I can feel it,
yes I can..
I'm wrapped around you completely,
yes I am...

When you rode the rails to Toronto,
you'd left me to explore the open road,
mysteriously ill... feeling daily that
my back was against the wall.

You were to stay four weeks,
and we were only just begun, with that
cloud of uncertainty  following close
on our heels. Snapping pictures
of a  hurried future, blotting out our
only chance at being in the present.

On your return,
I wondered how it would work,
how it would look.. for you,
I had questions, questions, and more questions...  
yet it seemed I had remained an open book.

My heart was a ***** in heat
and I was throwing myself
in to a kennel full of howling,
growling dogs, baring their teeth,
their *****'s becoming unsheathed..
and standing back to watch the fun, my ego
peering motionless as it met its defeat.

Was I aiming for another feather for my cap,
or was this something real.. to be cultivated,
to prize. To hold on to at all costs.

I looked in the mirror, the years staring back at me.
What to do with your youth, a quarter of a century younger.
Not knowing if I could keep up or even be enough for you.

Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees,
you up and landed in my lap, craving my attention,
looking for a body to keep your sheets warm,
someone beside you to ride out the frigid winter.

I had been content with the state of my being,
not Looking, as they say.. not in the market, a free agent so to speak.
To me you were just another somebody
that took up space, entitled though you were,
and I paid you no mind, except
to engage in small talk, about the weather,
or of how smart looking your skirt was
or how you liked my shirt.. and that you thought
it brought out the blue in my eyes.

You would hardly call it flirting,
though I  found you yearning
for something you were beginning to believe
was a love only abiding in Fairy Tales, and not
in the style of the Brothers Grimm, mind you...
You were seemingly in need of a Prince,
not even seeing a Frog to be found.

This coast becomes so gloomy
when the fog sets in,
the clanging of the markers
in the open bay, attesting to the dangers
should your craft steer near.
Their ringing reminding you
of the Churches steeple bell
come every Sunday. Clang, clang, clang.
I imagine those people in their suits and dresses
filing up, their all pressed Sunday best hoping for a front pew,
while checking out their look in hand-held mirrors.

Not a hint of the ******..
no... nothing of the sort.
Not drawing back the arrow,
and letting loose just for sport.

A decade or more had passed
since I had been one in a couple,
I wasn't going in blind, nor
with a one eye open,
but oh, your skin,
it was so subtle and your eyes,
clear and refreshing, hiding no guile.

I threw up my arms and waved my hands about..
You smiled shyly, slyly.. you had come 'round even
though you lived  way out on the other side of town.
My hands still up high I placed their palms
on each side of your face and kissing your forehead
I said.. "I have reached the shore."
Train whistle blowin',
everybody knowin'
the time 'till the
end of days is growin'.

But the warmth
of your naked heart
embraces me,
letting me know
that everything
is going
to be alright.

To know this
is to understand
that I am here to love
and to be loved,
not to live in fear
of what is to come.

Everything is
as it should be,
leaving me
no end to see,
and infinity
becomes
the destiny.


© 2013
You
  could cut
        the air  
with a knife
it was just that thick
it had me
  chewing my nails
     gnawing them to
        the quick.

A small voice
  inside my head said
- you are not the boss of me -
     No question about it
         I work hard to be free.


I plan for
the worst
but I hope
for the best
born to create
I take my imagination
and put it to the test.

They say that a bad
   attitude is like a flat tire
       you have to change it
   if you're going to get very far.
     Free will,
         choose the things you choose
            But you just can't go pinning all
                your hopes on some far away star.

As life goes and go it does,
I hold on tight and
leave my past in the dust.
I've come face to face with my demons
and lived to tell the tale,
I was backed right up against the wall
but my morality is in tact,
this cat's not for sale."

I'm alive for two reasons
        yeah it's down to that.
Reason number one I was born
                and two I didn't die yet.
    I am no go between
        it hasn't come down to that
           I can't deliver what I never had
       Although sometimes I have to
give my head a shake. I always remember
to give a sucker an even break.

©2013
You could cut the air
With a knife, it was just that thick
It had me chewing my nails
Gnawing them to the quick

I plan for the worst
But I hope for the best
Born to create
I take my imagination
and put it to the test

They say that a bad attitude
Is like a flat tire
You have to change it
If you are going to get very far
Free will
Choose the things you choose
But you can't go pinning all
Your hopes on some far away star

As Life goes, and go it does
I hold on tight and put my past in the dust
I have come face to face with my demons
and lived to tell the tale
I was backed right up against the wall
but my morality is in tact...
'' This cat's not for sale''.

I'm alive for two reasons
yeah, it's come down to that
Reason number one is I was born
And number two well, I didn't die yet.
I am no go between it has come down to that
I can't deliver something I never had
Although sometimes I have to give my head a shake
And always remember to give a sucker an even break.
I'll take a handful
and then suffer the consequences.
When will I learn, will I ever stop.
Will I lay my nasty habits down,
or are these just now be my permanent vices.

These days when the
young indulge in drug use
they have to deal with Chinese manipulation,
manipulation of chemicals that can cause death.
How do you like them apples.

Death is something we all face,
or if we don't get cheated of the chance to face it we do.
At least dying of an overdose affords you the opportunity
to have an open casket funeral and you know what they call
an open casket funeral, well, remains to be seen.
I don't have to play
the respect card

When the other option
is common regard

Loose lips do sink ships
and it  leaves the other side doing back flips

Lord Thunderin' Jesus
as we say here on the coast

And that's the coast with the most
strictly speakin' a toast to the east

What displeases me most is
a the general lack of civility

On this big ol' world
that they call the Earth

I say, he's got a tick one
and I do mean his head

Some of those ideas
that he did give birth

Some of them good
for what it's worth

Give us this day
our daily bread

Those sugar plum fairies
dancing around in his head

"Donald Duck", I've heard them joke
While his big old pipe dream goes up in smoke

I hold him in regard and that's for sure
I have no respect for someone that I just have to endure

In the end he'll be a part of history
While all our lives will remain a mystery
Lying in bed
Unable to sleep
The fan in the room
Oscillates sounding
Like the waves
Lapping the shore
I think back to
This morning
When I heard
A cellist amongst the choir
Tears rolled down my cheeks
Why is it that I cannot sleep
I see the
way
your eyes sparkle
when you talk
to him,
how he tries
to impress you
and how
you lap it up.
I never knew
until now
how my feelings
for you
could hurt me,
how I could
be jealous
of other guys.
But when
the two of you
shared
a smoke
under his umbrella
in the rain
my blood boiled.
I never knew
my feelings
for you
could cause
me pain.
I told you
about it
with anger
in my voice
and you said
you were sorry,
that you
didn't mean
to hurt me,
that you
would talk to him
and tell him that
we were a couple.
And now when
I bring it up,
I make light
of it.
I address it
with humor,
I tell you
it wouldn't
have bothered me
but I was tired
that day,
I wasn't feeling
on top
of my game.
Did I apologize
for being angry. No!
I am afraid
when I feel
so insecure.
You say,
"don't you
trust me."
and I say yes
but I have trust issues,
didn't you notice
that I always lock
my bicycle.
**** me off
this ride on
it don't cut
the grass it's
just wasting gas
R U
R U
Fully vexed yet?
joe king
Isolation pushes me out,
yes, it's nice to meet other people.
But when the stones start flying
I'm at the end of my block,
but on the other hand,
I can really love hard,
I can love harder than a rock.

While you were feeling
a bit like a head trip
I must admit
I wanted a few benefits
with that friendship.

You don't have to tell me baby,
it was going no where,
I guess it's true..
' in love and war.. all is fair'.

All I wanted was
to have some fun
'cause if it isn't any fun,
then I'm long gone.

You know baby
it hasn't been fun for a very long time.
Now when it's down to hanging with you
it makes me fell like I'm dying.

So what's so hard about blowin' you off,
be by myself and collect my thoughts.
That's what's been missing all along.
So it's bye-now...so long.

I imagine this and I imagine that,
hanging with you
sure does lack,
so the deck is stacked
and my bags are packed.

You rub me wrong, yes you do,
and I rub you the wrong way too.
You are who you are.. ain't no margin for error,
just don't come crawling back
like some god- awful  night terror.

© 2000

All Rights Reserved.
What shade has come over me
to leave such a trail of steel,
this thing I live is a runaway train.

I feel so obliged to follow it,
dragging me, kicking and screaming,
didn't I once engineer this life gone insane.

Pulled along behind, face hid in forearms,
ka-knock-knock- knocking my head on every railway tie.
What shade is this that has split bean's brain.

By the wrist I am chained to this runaway train,
with traits of a hell-hound out of control,
nothing to push to stop from being pulled.

Bound to lose faith at the very least,
though risk of life and limb be the final price.
What shade is this film that I have cast myself in,
what shade is this play that won't go away.
what shade has come over me
to leave such a trail of steel,
the thing i live is a run-away train.

i feel so obliged to follow it,
dragging me, kicking and screaming,
didn't i once engineer this life gone insane.

pulled along behind, face hid in forearms,
ka-knock-knock-knocking my head on every railway tie.
what shade is this life that has split bean's brain?

by the wrist i am chained to this run-away train,
with traits of a hell-hound out of control,
nothing to push to stop from being pulled.

bound to lose faith at the very least,
though risk of life and limb be the final price.
what shade is this film that i have cast myself in,
what shade is this play that won't go away.

© 2005
All Rights Reserved
what shade has come over me
to leave such a trail of steel,
this thing i live is a run-away-train

i feel so obliged to follow it,
dragging me, kicking and screaming,
didn't i once engineer this life gone insane

pulled along behind, face hid in forearms,
ka-knock-'knock-knocking my head on every railway tie,
what shade is this that has split beans brain

by the wrist i am chained to my run-away-train,
with traits of a hell-hound, out of control,
nothing i can push to stop from being pulled

bound to lose faith at the very least,
though risk of life and limb be the final price,
what shade is this film that i have cast myself in,
what shade is this play that won't go away
evening's
long shadows
lay peaceful between
a walk in the neighborhood
where the windows are looked at,
not through.
and the air
is not shattered with alarm.

behind
the church doors,
in the pews; a congregation
is dead.
i take them downstairs
to be buried.
the preacher is undisturbed.

"where the dead lay
the crows will gather."

beside an ancient well,
with stillness
and under a dark sky
with diamonds,
there is no natural,
nor any contrived.

i lift my arms
and take flight.
my dreams
spread eagle
on the back
of my mind.
Evening's
long shadow
lay peaceful.
A walk in the neighborhood
where windows are looked at,
not through.
Not shattered with alarm.
Evening's long
shadows
lay peaceful between
a walk in the neighbourhood
where the windows are looked at,
not through.
And the air is not
shattered with alarm.

Behind the church doors,
in the pews: a congregation
is dead.
I take them downstairs
to be buried.
The preacher is undisturbed.
" Where the dead lay
the crows will gather."

This game played
between the ears.
My own arm
beating my own head.
The small cry
is the small fry,
so the bully
bellies up,
filling his hole.
Always in need of more.

Beside an ancient well,
with stillness
under a dark sky
with diamonds.
There is no natural,
nor any contrived.
Evening's long shadow
lay peaceful between
a walk in the neighbor hood,
where the windows are looked at,
not through.
And the air is
not shattered with alarm.

Behind
the church doors
in the pews: a congregation
is dead.
I take them downstairs
to be buried.

The preacher is undisturbed.
"Where the dead lay
the crows will gather."

This game
played between the ears.
My own arm
beating my own head.
the cry of the small fry,
so the bull bellies up,
filling his hole.
Always in need of more.

Behind an ancient well,
with stillness,
and under a dark sky
with diamonds,
there is no natural,
nor is there any contrived

© 2005
All Rights Reserved 2005
If it's all
the same to you
I don't have the time
to sit on a fence
thinking you
have a clue.

Seems you don't know
what you don't know

Snivel you must
with one big

hard ******

You don't know
what to do..


You slip
and you're slim

Figure it out
I can find A rhyme

But I really don't care

Too bad you
leave your stench

everywhere.
keepyourshittoyourself
For Marley

Santa Clause is a spirit,
he comes to those who believe.
The only thing about being spirit
is you have to use people to do
material things in this world.
That is why he gets people
to deliver the things that you desire...
but only if you choose to believe
marley is seven years when I wrote this for her  -irving
I knelt at her Headstone
Placing hand-picked
Wildflowers gently down.

Loving thoughts
Caressed my Spirit's heart
Sent from faraway
Far beyond the outer most stars.

She had held me
In her arms
When I was just a babe

And taught me
What it was
To surrender
To a larger part
of the Whole.

I wish that I had known
Her inner thoughts when
I was young and on her hip.

Perhaps I could have
Acted more out of love
Than out of a pain
That I felt was
All my own.

The pain
That was nothing
More than a fear filled liar.

She would say
With Jesus it's
"Knock and the door will open"
But the Devil will keep on
Hailing you from
Every corner.


Make no mistake
With all the respect
That is due
I miss her sweet voice
Showing me the softer side
Of any cold hard fact.

I don't have to wish
She has life after life
Sometimes I feel her.
  
When I study her face
In the photographs
Taken by family and friends.
I cough up
your menstrual blood
when I hear his voice.
His fuckn words fall
with a thud.
I don't listen 'cause
I have that choice.
He's a weasel
wheelin' around
to push his ware.
When you want him
he can't be found,
he ain't nowhere.
I cough up
your menstrual blood
and that's no lie.
He ain't a missle
he's a dud,
the farthest thing from dope,
'way too far from fly.
The moral of the story is...
if you can be free from Scott
you can be scott-free.

© 2012
I have a good friend and she hangs out with this small time cannabis dealer that rides around on his bike making deliveries. He feels he is a hip hop artist and writes a lot of ****.. bad ****. Every time I would go over to visit with my friend he couldn't keep his mouth shut leaving no time for me to talk with my friend. I shared this piece with him and he freaked out saying he was going to **** me up as well as my family and friends. That I had better watch my back because it could come at any time.. he's at least 30 years my junior.. I just told him to *******.. my son who is younger than him wanted to **** him.. it all blew over.    Oh yes his name was C. Scott.
Bobbing on the ocean
Thrown to and fro
Always going under and clawing
upward toward the sun
For just one more gasp
I am naked, clothes too heavy
Not to discard
Cold, no warmth of love
Just a sinking feeling
That is becoming like an old friend
Turning their shoulder to you
As they give you an evil eye
That you never thought existed
in any bone or muscle of your beloved gone compadre
There is a magic
In the fragrance
Of the Spring air

Everybody's
Bones bleach white
Exposed to the Summer's sun

Fall's bountiful days
Harvested once those Deer
Have had their fill

The Dark of Winter
Time to rest
And get one's bearings
Next page