From somwhere outside my bubble,
the mindless quacking of a mallard
has infiltrated my thoughts and ideas,
confusing and annoying.

The sun, blinding at it's zenith,
now fades into a vermilion pool,
mercurial silver water transformed,
photovoltaic cells failing in loss of light.

I too begin to fade, diminishing energy,
consumption of power during the day,
draining batteries, my thought light dimming,
the sun, passes the horizon, and darkness envelopes.

Unscrewing my light bulb and setting aside,
preparing for a rest. and shedding thoughts,
much like the fall trees losing leaves one at a time,
I close my eyes and dream, of a duck and a lake

The highway long since reclaimed,
in the years after man,
we never leave a permanent. mark,
though we think we can.

Asphalt returns to dirt,
glass returns to sand,
eventually even steel oxidzes,
returning iron to the land.

iIn the years after man,
much healing will endure,
despite. our thoughts contrary,
humans were but a virus to be cured.

In the blink of an eye,
the earth returns to it's original. state,
another species comes along,
to draw on a blank slate.

Flavored creamer clouds
swirling in my coffee mug,
moving shapes of critters,
but this morning there's really a bug.

Pour another cup,
expecting pretty clouds,
but the only one that appears
is a nuclear mushroom floating proud.

Take a sip, oh so sour,
I guess the milk had turned,
dump and rinse and try again,
I'm starting to feel burned.

This time I just pour it black,
to where has gone my mood,
I turn and head to the table,
trip and spill it into my food.

Throw it all away,
think about crawling back into bed,
but it's a manic Monday morning,
and if I miss work my job is dead.

Building in the distance,
an anvil shape forms,
a sudden booming ringing,
as thunders hammer pounds down.

The fading sun is obliterated,
blacked out by flowing clouds,
moving with a willful force,
its power becoming obvious.

Electrical sparks, miles long,
golden streaks toward the ground,
impacting with destruction,
an ancient tree explodes.

Proud now of its process,
it whips itself into a frenzy,
twisting wind swirls and swirls,
into the finger of a god.

The finger thumps the countryside,
it reloads and thumps the town,
booming laughter after each of its
fancy flaming flashes.

As the sun comes up,
the clouds burn away,
the fingers trail is obvious,
traced a path of devastation.

Dripping drops, dripping drops,
a puddle here and there,
crimson and fading to black,
the pinestraw congealing.

The shadowed form stares,
back down the tunneled trees,
a torturous silhouette standing,
moonlight shines, but cannot identify.

A demon loose in the pines,
branching out to barren land,
but returning to his lair,
leaving a luring trail.

Do not follow the dripping drops,
smeared here and there,
if you do, your bones too,
will reside upon the pile.

On the shores of farm ponds,
and at the edges of lakes,
this is where my memory,
frequently does it take,

Fishing rod in hand,
I walk behind my dad,
casting out for bass,
none of this is sad.

Prowling through the mud,
throwing rocks and catching fish,
if only I could go back here,
sometimes do I wish.

So instead I grab the phone,
and give my dad a call,
tell him dates of the fishing trip,
we take together every fall.

The greenish eyes peer, down wild and free,
something stares from shadows, high in the tree,
hello there Alice, you nearly trippped and fell,
a black iguana grins, hanging down from his tail.

Of course I did she said, you gave me quite a fright,
a chuckle and he said, come closer and I'll bite.
gleaming razored smile, looks strangely like a frown,
but it tends to do that when it's owners upside down.

Alice stands her ground, her danger bell has rung,
suddenly she is wrapped up in a pink and slimy tongue,
with a muscular pull, she is reeled in like a fish,
but instead of biting, iguana gives a kiss and a wish.

To help you on your way I offer you this gift,
when you decide to use it, I'll appear through a rift,
a hole in space and time burrowed there by me,
and I'm just almost certain, that your wish will to be freed.

So Alice go about your business, and know I'll see you soon,
and beware of the flowers, three days from now at noon,
If you call me then, well it just won't be right,
but you won't again as your arms off will I bite.

Like an elevator rising, he disappeared into the tree,
Alice was amazed that she still walked free,
but her memory was burning, what was that he said,
I hope that I remember, or I fear I might be dead.

Outlined in tape on the floor,
the shape of a human heart,
blood stains and tears,
still, stain the ground.

The scene of a murdered love,
one left unscathed,
the other damaged, broken and bleeding,
unrepairable and inconsolable.

The ambulance lights, red and blue,
fade into the distance,
the siren growing softer,
and into the years.

Upon the meadow green, she stands,
creamy white sheep, walk near,
blue gingham dress, ***** in the wind,
auburn locks held by hands.

Shepherds crook, gleams in the sun.
leaned up against a nearby tree,
a spotted heeler pants at her side
just returned from having fun.

A pond glows silver down the hill,
an acre mirror reflecting light,
a whooshing sound from behind,
as the breeze turns the windmill.

A scene set and burned in my mind,
to be traveled to, at my leisure,
to escape the day to day.
a better one I've yet to find.

Cut off blue jeans,
with white strings,
like frayed dreams,
in sunlight beams.

Visions of beauty, with each sway,
watching men sigh and bow and pray,
thanking God for fallen angels
and for their curves and their angles.

But she walks on, with nary a look,
none of these guys, can read her book,
her pages are closed, but admire the cover,
the good stuff is saved only for her lover.

The trail of tears she left behind,
brings the waiter all the time,
she tries to stop the cries and whelps,
her t-shirt reads, whiskey helps.

Ensconced on memories wall,
a vision wrapped in a bikini,
pink, blue and red stripes,
on top of summer bronzed skin.

The beige gold sand,
burns my feet even now,
the smell of coconut oil,
washes over my nose.

Her red hair burns me,
like the first sunburn of spring,
blowing in the wind,
of my remembered past.

Red hair hangs down,
freshly brushed out,
like curtains covering,
the two dollops of lust
upon her chest.

Pink lips open,
white teeth gleam,
skin tightens
and bumps raise,
as my fingers barely graze.

Hot breath applied to her nape,
causing eyes to close and flutter,
sneaky hands slowly pull sheets,
down, down, down, revealing
breathtaking landscape, ending in pink toenails.

A roaming tongue paints
a picture of passion,
butterfly wings open,
the core of femininity,
exposed, like a jewel.

Approaching deftly,
slowly working the maze
of hot red emotions,
stoking the fire to white hot,
until it threatens violence.

Then with finality,
the flames are extinguished,
nozzled streams at the base,
an explosion taking the fuel
that fed the conflagration.

Gleaming silver sidewalks,
as the sun goes on down,
I walk alone feeling blue,
through the streets of town.

A beat forming in my mind,
as traffic chugs right along,
chiming railroad crossing,
adding to the cities song.

Mood improving as I stroll,
the bridges seams lay down a beat,
my head bobbing up and down,
this music is such a treat.

A little swagger in my step,
I do a spin through puddles, splash,
cement truck grinding round,
manhole cover like cymbal's crash.

The music's there all the time,
you just have to choose to see,
and when you do, you will find,
it will set your spirit free.

Flickering flames lick,
tasting the wood,
consuming the faith,
long spoken into walls,

The cross glows molten,
a red that speaks to heat,
falling on the bare back hand,
branding the sigil permanantly.

The finger points to the heavens,
the distance insurmountable,
stars light years removed,
yet the god or God's reside there.

Ashes are all that's left,
no book or page survives,
yet faith continues stubbornly,
I often wonder why.

Ignited oil upon the griddle,
burning words, that mind fiddle,
confusion in meanings and context,
the futures behind me, but what is next.

The past is always tomorrow away,
and you live yesterday, like today,
the clock spins and unwinds,
yet you never regain the time.

The colors fade, but darkness brightens,
the grinning and laughter now it frightens,
the dreaded smile, and welcomed frown,
knowing that you never always let down.

Circular logic like a rubber ball,
always bouncing, but never falls,
sitting still in chronic motion,
sinking high into the ocean.

Occam's razor heals the skin,
Schrodinger's cat is always within,
The box is closed but nothing is concealed,
Cosby's Jell-O has congealed.

Where this goes,
everyone knows,
yet the knowledge is never learned,
and the ice fire can never burn.

From the peak of Olympus Mons,
I stare across the emptiness,
the distance is all red sand,
pocked by black rocks and rippling sand.

I float aloft on the Venusian clouds,
seeing nothing but gray mist,
that burns me producing red blisters,
as the sulfuric acid droplets play.

Hot, so hot, I begin to melt,
cold, so cold, I begin to freeze,
the fastest moving planet,
but the sun burned off its wings.

Now as far as I dare to cast,
I sit in the darkness on an icy planetoid,
the silence is complete, there is no view,
tiny dots of light mark the distance,
as we ride the cosmic tidal forces.

A salty wave washes over my face,
I am jolted back to reality,
the beach sand is rough,
and the golden sun reddens my skin.

From the desert to the Texas coast,
once a year trip I need the most,
a week of fishing with my guys,
planning it makes the year fly.

Mike and John in the Dodge truck,
I'm on the radio, they're out of luck,
a mix of stuff old and new,
metal, pop, rap, and country too.

Susie and Lies by David Allen Coe,
the stuff that never made the rad-i-o,
comedy by Rodney, Richard and more,
so much stuff you'll never be bored.

The road trip is more than half the fun,
Shady Rays on my face to block the sun,
headed down the highway making memories,
telling jokes and reminiscing histories.

Wow, imagine, this is just the ride,
who knows whats happening with the tide,
when we get there, buddies and fishing,
its months away, but this has me wishing.

Water gun full of tequila
another filled with lime,
bug shooter full of salt,
open your mouth it'll be fine.

No need to think,
let's all have a drink,
its a party after all,
let's all have a ball.

Shooting out drinks,
talking and mingling,
my face went numb,
and my hands are tingling.

No need to think,
let's all have a drink,
its a party after all,
let's all have a ball.

Active shooters come round again,
victims with mouths open wide,
the night goes on they begin to fall,
see them on the day's other side.

No need to think,
let's all have a drink,
its a party after all,
let's all have a ball.

Be Prepared not Scared
40 tucked in the back of my pants,
out in the street, people scurry like ants,
concealed carry license, two extra clips,
Swiss army knife, to slice or snip.

Boy scouts always say be ready,
every day carry, yeah mine is steady,
never leave the house  without being prepared,
it's about having a plan, not being scared.

Say you're at the mall one fine day,
suddenly thugs come out to play,
or you're at the shop, here come the looters,
or you come across an active shooter.

Do you want to cower down and die,
or protect yourself and others, rack the slide,
you've practiced but  it's hard to take a life,
but that dude is aiming at your wife.

He just shot your neighbor's kid,
so you pull your gun, shoot and glad you did,
double tap center mass, he goes down,
911 from your phone, the sirens sound.

Apply pressure to the wound of the kid,
she'd a few tears for what you witnessed and did,
but it could've been worse, just one fatality,
mentally unstable man with scrambled reality.

The point of this story is not to be a hero,
but to be ready to do more than zero,
planning and practice goes a long way,
sometimes it might even save the day.

The sun kissed the day,
tangerine smooches,
creating ocean breezes,
aquamarine reflections.

Capped white and reflecting,
as she climbed in the sky,
golden light bringing life,
from far away space.

Creating photosynthetic greens,
and bipedal dreams,
roaming and evolving,
yet destroying.

Mother nature's mistake.
trust.
trust for her creations,
to take care of her.

Sizzle and pop,
the griddle smokes,
flesh touches, sears,
lines burn in.

Time tells the tale,
how deep the damage,
blackened and charred,
or gorgeous marks and pink inside.

Simply ready for the trash,
or tossed into a compost heap,
or ready to be enjoyed,
with every mouthwatering morsel.

Crystal clear connections,
thoughts within thoughts,
transmitted across miles,
sharing abilities and ideas.

Feelings and emotions,
passion, anger, excitement,
sadness, hate, rage,
all combined in shared minds.

The hive, the cluster,
an uncomfortable inclusivity,
a sacrifice of the self, and privacy,
but better than being alone.

One truly is the lonliest number,
whether in person,
or with silent thoughts,
the voices keep us from being so.

But not everyone can hear,
some choose to ignore,
but evolution is possible,
embrace the others.

Opiod other worlds,
narcotic neverlands,
LSD laserlight shows,
pharmaceutical fantasies.

Acid adventures,
mushroom magic,
****** euphoria,
THC travels.

Graphite words shade the corners,
as the picture comes to life,
the poem begins to take shape,
in the darkness of my mind.

A multifaceted gem,
reflections of many colors,
red, blue, green, white and black,
arousing emotions with each sparkle.

Love, lover,
wife, mother,
an employee, and professional,
an accountant, and housekeeper.

These are but a few of the layers and faces,
that women today wear,
I thank them for doing what they do,
most of the time it is a thankless job.

Nothing in life is free,
even the air you breathe,
is paid for in seconds of life.

Gems of light reflect,
in yellow, gold and blues,
off long green blades of grass,
covered in tiny globs of dew.

The flashlight slices the darkness,
letting me see the other dimension,
I'm not sure why most people,
view the night with suspicion.

The stars above smile,
shining beacons from history,
light years away, but right here,
I understand their mystery.

Nocturnal communing with nature,
as I continue to walk,
my ears are filled with murmurs,
as the night begins to talk.

The leaves rustle in the wind,
the bats click as the whoosh by,
crickets sing and coyotes howl,
nothing likes the silence, I understand why.

A Coriolis storm of loathing,
smothering my thoughts,
the aches and pain of life,
painting annoyance on my face.

Jaded beyond repair,
the human experience,
wasted on imbeciles and idiots,
pushing the sane over the edge.

Pink and purple prose,
written and posted,
but never read,
unless on the phone screen.

Gender, transgender, confusion,
binary systems multiplied,
pronoun confusion and deletion,
along with the rewriting of history.

Snowballs rolling downhill,
growing so large, no longer containable,
begin to fly apart, as the sun goes nova,
celestial rage impending doom.

I'm not from Compton,
the trailer park, or the hood,
just livin' my life,
doing what I should.

I like to hunt,
I love to fish,
at night watch the stars,
sometimes I wish.

I have a boat,
it has no name,
happily married,
running no game.

The radio plays,
the windows are down,
I sing out loud,
I don't care who's around.

I'm from Texas
love the woods and the coast,
hell even out west,
the desert with the wires and posts.

Tumbleweeds rolling
near and far,
let's take a ride,
get in the car.

From the city to the country,
from the sand to the trees,
living my life,
happy and free.

Hitching a ride on my cigar smoke,
curling slowly into the air,
floating on my beers bubbles,
I simply am free from care.

Bass line bumps,
from the rap station,
heads all bobbing
a music vacation.

Watch the girls,
drop it low,
take it in,
that weekend flow.

Lawn chairs sagging,
the coolers cold,
hand me another,
if I could be so bold.

Let it slide,
let it flow
let all the anger go.

Take a breath,
relax a bit,
don't let them get to you,
with their ****.

Whistle a tune,
with the birds,
sing on out
some light hearted words.

Let it slide,
let it flow
let all the anger go.

In the end,
it will be all right,
the sun will shine,
as will the stars at night.

Understand the situation,
knowing all your limitations,
feel the stress, then let it go,
like an arrow shot from a bow.

You have no need to worry,
tears and fears just bring you down,
you have friends here and there,
hear them sing this joyful sound

Let it slide,
let it flow
let all the anger go.

The stars in the sky are mine,
I will share them with you,
lay with me in the dark,
and let us enjoy the view.

Give me your hand,
in it I'll place a jewel
a gem that is the moon,
like a diamond untouched by tools.

Into your eyes I place the planets,
reflections in the night,
Jupiter and Venus,
glowing golden bright.

Do not fear the sunset,
see what you have missed,
bask in the light from time,
when the universe first came to exist.

Friday night let's have some beer,
all my rowdy friends are here,
blondes, brunettes, and redheads too,
tight blue jeans, what a view.

Sawdust covers up the floor,
let's do some shots, who wants one more?
Blake Shelton sings some drinking songs,
smiles and laughter didn't take long.

Let the work week drain away,
hit the dancefloor, come on lets play,
belly rubbin' and boot scootin'
woo's and hollers and some hootin'.

Chris Ledoux sings "County Fair"
I kiss the redhead on a dare,
she's all in and kisses back,
all my buddies jaws hang slack.

The rest of the night we dance away,
and then watch the sun come up on the day,
breakfast anyone? my buddy screams,
and so we live the weekend dream.

She sheds her robe,
as white lights strobe,
music booms real loud,
as screams come from the crowd.

She grabs the pole and climbs,
the scene is so sublime,
spinning and turning she slides down,
like a slithering serpent to the ground.

Then she pops to dance some more,
the crowd let's out another roar,
her body oozes sweat,
her hair hangs damp and wet,

Swirling hips and fingertips,
roaming hands and licking lips,
Neon flashes blue and green,
adding too the boys dream.

Red hair whipped side to side,
on a lap she will ride,
but only for a second or two,
lots of boys dreams to make come true.

Feathers float on winds of change,
riding high up on the thermals,
ocean waves crash the beach,
in regular sequence like a second hand.

Crash, crash, crash, crash,
tick, tick, tick, tick,
time rides a run away train,
on flat tracks, with no way to stop.

The hopes and dreams,
of the innocent young,
left sitting at the depot,
as there can be only one bag checked.

The train is full of others,
help them if you can,
feed them, clothe them,
provide a little comfort.

Then climb the ladder to the roof,
spread your wings and fly,
only the brave will do this,
the rest are content to ride.

Soar while you can,
but still tethered to the train,
see past the tracks and the trees,
look at the hills and valleys.

Then one day your feathers,
will float down to the sea,
where a final wave will wash,
and you will cease to be.

The world is a vampire,
it feeds on you, slowly,
year after year,
frustrations and agony.

******* the life out of you,
allowing you only moments of peace,
small bits of joy and love,
to let you recharge.

Then the feedings begin again,
perhaps this is the matrix,
and we are but rechargeable batteries,
powering something, of which we are not aware.

Farmed in massive arrays,
and kept alive for power,
and the amusement,
of our owners.

Treasures hidden in plain sight,
covered by the daily layers,
can be seen from above and below,
given the right angles and conditions.

Intrigue piqued,
as the search continues,
watching and shifting,
moments and opportunities.

While remaining untouchable,
except in rare occasions,
occasionally everything lines up,
leaving you a vision burned into memory.

But once seen,
you long to see again,
through the layers,
the game continues.

Shadows of the storm,
rage above icy waters,
last breaths of men,
long lost above.

Water and steel collide,
the harder doesn't always win,
and the fears are smothered
to blackness in pressured depths.

No last meal,
goodbyes are lost,
perhaps one day to be found,
scratched into bulkheads.

So sink into sadness,
weighed down with ore,
along with 29 men,
lost but not forgotten.

Rivers of thought upon the page,
some smooth like glass,
a few quick with faster flow,
others like rapids rough and choppy,
the dangerous ones fall off the precipice,
influencing others to do the same.

Humming giant neon signs,
flash words never spoken,
there is no rhyme but a reason,
the people's dreams are shattered.

Keep your head bowed down,
to the digital God in your hand,
you can look upon nothing,
just see the printed words.

Text your responses deep into the cloud,
the tapping keys are the only sounds
no words are heard, eye contact never made,
but games are played, in this electronic age.

Interaction has been reduced,
to photons and electrons,
projected eye to eye,
yet the truth is hidden.

The music still plays,
but it is never shared,
transmitted in to your ear,
and you dance, alone.

Obsidian monoliths,
black hole generating gates,
like pools of liquid time and distance,
waiting to be swum through.

Hidden on the Moon,
cached within the Earth,
ensconced on Europa,
or at the convergence of ley lines.

Travel to other worlds,
dimensions are at hand,
wormholes in the timespace,
to be explored and adventured.

All that is required,
bravery to take the step,
through the fluidity of the universe,
to arrive at another island lost in time.

Upon misery's moat,
we are destined to float.
some of us suffer our wishes,
the rest of us cast for fishes.

Like cobwebs cling to the corners,
as the spring winds howl,
we too cling to life,
as the zephyrs of time,
blow past us.

And like the webs,
we to eventually lose grip,
and blow away,
like so much detritus.

Wine glasses filled with red,
matching shadows under lace,
a devilish and delicious grin,
the smile on her face.

She wishes to devour me,
taken over by the devil inside,
I believe I shall allow it,
and enjoy the Valentines ride.

Waves of green,
then of amber,
then a beach of sand,
after the harvest.

Freedoms spell cast,
blended into wine,
reasons and explanations,
distilled into, "it's not our time."

One final word,
two final kisses,
tears falling,
more than three.

I close the door,
the engine purrs,
the highways call,
I will no more.

Imagination,
clicking of antique typewriter keys,
puffs of dust rise,
ghostly steps trod creaking stairs.

Scurrying sounds emanate
from dark corners and inside walls,
my breaths are so loud,
I hold it.

The fog arrived,
not on the feet of cats,
but as a beast of burden,
swallowing the port and the ships.

The croak of horns
scared it not,
the flash of lights
would not distract.

Stubbornly it sat,
refusing to budge,
in the early morning,
waiting for the sun.

Swirling waters silver blue,
crimson cardinals flying through,
flashes of gold and of green,
the bowfin swims down the stream.

The sound of cattails as they sway,
rock thrown splashes as children play,
across the water, the croak of bullfrogs,
and in the distance the sound of dogs.

Honeysuckle tasting sweet,
wild strawberries what a treat,
tastebuds tickled with sheep shower,
and puckered faces with dock that's sour.

The springtime sun burns my skin,
then was stuck by a catfish fin,
its sticky slime, hard to get off,
finally used a rough cotton cloth.

Each word an image,
sceneries of smeared ink,
the journey unfolds,
page by page.