The baggage, the pain,
some call it the monkey,
it lives on our backs,
and makes us feel funky.

The decisions weigh down,
like a ton of lead bricks,
all piled up together,
like the game pick up sticks.

If you move the wrong one,
they'll all tumble down,
buckling your knees,
sending you to the ground.

Sometimes though,
you can set them aside,
have some drinks with some friends,
or go for a ride.

These are the moments,
you pray will endure,
but they never will,
as there is no simple cure.

Eyes burn,
with visions,
despite lids closed,
the candle burns at both ends,
with things that cannot
be unseen,
or rinsed away,
with visine.

Simple paper sacks line the sidewalk,
moving in the wind,
just trash waiting to blow away.

Christmas Eve, sacks glow from within,
candles flicker, with the meekest of light
yet fill our spirits with love and hope.

The display steals our breath,
as we walk down the street,
a lit path for visitors to travel.

There is no truth and no transparency,
I’m beginning to believe every conspiracy,
about our government, it is full of lies,
not even including the foreign spies.

From the top to the bottom, every occupant,
lying and cheating, running rampant,
not an honest one is included in the bunch,
they would like to enslave us is my hunch.

Figuring out how to not pay their bill,
and making regulations so everything is uphill,
the Fed just keeps printing money, though it’s worthless,
we just keep on borrowing it as well though mirthless.

To control our thoughts and what we do,
whether we smoke and what we chew,
nothing is off limits anymore,
they raid us, without even a knock on the door.

Deny us our liberty, constitution destroyed,
how can they even continue to be employed?
by We the People, make no excuse,
we elected them so I guess take the abuse.

Common sense has died and withered away,
political correctness is the rule of the day,
add in Muslim jihadist and all of their ire,
it’s like throwing gas on a funeral pyre.

A repeat of the 60s and Civil Rights,
de ja vu, though it continues to fight,
Russia has brought back the cold war,
Obama never even answered the door.

With Crimea and Ukraine and Syria,
no to mention the Yemen, Somalia and North Korea,
Iran and Iraq and Afghanistan,
too many problems to be manageably ran.

Antibiotics not working on bugs anymore,
the end of the era, and of what’s core,
attacks in Paris and Mali, soon where else,
I suggest strapping your pistol tight to your belts.

But that offends too, in fact, it is booed,
let in all refugees, so we are *******,
not all of them are bad, most probably good,
but it only takes one, just ask folks from Fort Hood.

I don’t have the answers, and I do not pray
God gave us a brain to make it go our way
but we must sleep in the bed which made
it’s like watching one hopeless parade

find good where you can and take care of your friends
and family, as what we know comes to an end.
the state of the world should cause some fear
so try to sit back and relax and enjoy a beer.

The highway,
cosmic beltway,
bureaucrats bellow,
over planets in the way.

Piles of paper,
in legible legalese,
readable, yes,
but understandable,
never,

Budgets created,
and defended,
but never met,
as laughter rings,
from contractors.

The restaurant
across the galaxy,
where answers 42,
are debated over
gargle blasters.

Towels hang on every chair,
feel free to take one,
as you raise your thumb,
to the sky and hope,
for the best.

Mistletoe hangs in the naked mesquite tree,
years ago someone cut up soda cans into squares,
and hung in this tree with bits of wire,
long since grown into the limbs.

In the darkness of night especially in fall and winter,
this tree immediately takes you to Christmas,
as headlights reflect and shimmer off the aluminum,
in shades of silver, maroon, and green.

As the winter night breeze blows,
we pass by the tree and are compelled to stop,
my wife and I get out and approach and enjoy,
snowflakes begin to fall into the scene.

Perfection prior to Christmas,
as she notices the green mistletoe,
and presses her lips to mine,
cold snowflakes melt on our faces heightening senses.

With the reflection of shimmering colors in her eyes,
we hold hands and walk to the car,
the heater running, we listen to Christmas carols,
as we travel home toward family and the holiday.

"I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel",
Johnny cash sings 'Nails
and I understand.

The pain of this life
is a cumulative thing
burrowing slowly at first
then quickly into your soul.

Some look for love
others just numbness
from wherever and whoever
they can find it.

Lost in my colors match and mix,
but you always watch my six,
literally and figuratively
I always know you're in love with me.

Decide your fate,
walk around the lake,
with me holding hands,
for so long I have planned.

Summer sun sinking down,
laying you upon the ground,
blue jean shorts and bikini top,
pull them off, just don't stop.

Her hair up in a ponytail,
on a bronzed body, I set sail,
first to starboard, then to port
heading toward her last resort.

As darkness sets,
I close all bets,
bullets fired from a gun,
I guess this means that I have won.

My angel lays on unfolded wings
my heart it suddenly sings,
beauty captured in the twilight,
forever burns in my eyesight.

Context clues and imagination,
coloring conclusions in shades
of blue, red and green.

Red for passion,
blue depression,
and the evil green of envy.

Fiery thoughts of her encounters,
icy cold azure, cause it wasn't me,
and viridian coveting of her.

So many emotions,
the choice is hers,
I wait.

The world is filled with lies and hate,
the human race deserves its fate,
another flood, or maybe from space an asteroid,
or maybe well just hang around till the earth we have destroyed.

Shall we play a game, sure how about global thermonuclear war,
no one will win, but we all will know the score,
winter sets in for a thousand years,
only a few will survive through much pain and tears.

Shed for the planet and for loved ones lost,
those who pulled the trigger didn't understand the cost,
trapped in a bunker hundreds of feet under the ground,
they couldn't feel the heat but they could hear the sound.

Booms of thunder, and explosions untold,
like stories from the bible about the days of old,
those not burned up, or evaporated in the blast,
will wish that they had been, as they cannot last.

Terminator or the Matrix, or Planet of the Apes,
it really doesn't matter as we can't escape,
an alien experiment that has gone awry,
maybe to the stars, some of us will fly.

Like sweet baklava,
sitting on a plate,
tempting decadence,
between thin layers.

Light and airy and opaque,
just like phyllo dough,
slowly I remove the top,
seeking out the flesh inside.

With deft touches of tongue,
sampling the flavors,
honey sweet, buttery smooth,
a hint of rose and orange.

I continue exploring her layers,
my dessert, my sweet, my all,
when finally there are none left,
revealing the pure nectar.

Quickly I drink from the fountain,
rehydrating, invigorating, growing,
all consuming, fed and drunk,
I am satiated, by her.

A piece of reality broken free
Into distant wonders we can see
That nothing is ever truly free
Not even the light we use to see

Through the mirror of our eyes
We seek to find the perfect prize
Though we shouldn't be surprised
We always are when at last we die

A piece of reality in the wind
Hoping the universe will mend
Hoping that god will soon send
Some one for us to befriend

Alternate realities through the fold
Some of them have broke the mold
All of us are bought and sold
By others who are so bold

A piece of reality on the waves
Floating into darkened caves
Being pursued by those that crave
To never ever enter a grave

But alas time is up
We all grow old don't stay a pup
It is time to fill our cup
And have a toast before we sup

A piece of reality now no more
It could not survive the utter bores
Simply looking for easy doors
And finally slipped between floor boards

From the darkness, Samedi rises,
it is our souls that he prizes,
to feed upon and to focus,
its how death does his hocus pocus.

Cancer, diabetes and the rot,
not diseases but things time forgot,
freed again as humans spread,
increasing the numbers of our dead.

Buried things lay hibernating,
thousands of years, they have been waiting,
legends and myths and dragons too,
we simply do not have a clue.

Once awoken, no turning back,
we are running down the track,
pandora's box thrown open wide,
nothing at all can stem the tide.

When on the winds of change we ride,
things must be taken in stride,
With the swirling currents we glide,
and do it all with strength and pride.

Whether we rise or we fall,
the phone is ringing, take the call,
No hesitation do not stall,
Just take it and run with the ball.

Through twisting turns and changing lanes,
or on the ailerons of planes,
Like the colors of of light through stain glass panes,
Striving just to remain sane.

Ah the night is silent,
like a tomb,
monsters come out,
with the moon.

Walls of bones edge the path,
as ancestors grin in candle light,
as I roam under cathedrals,
a trip to history,
but everyone is silent.

I roam the catacombs
from time to time,
one never knows
what one may find.

Except, chiming marrow,
turned to dust,
encapsulating ancient,
memories and knowledge.

A scuff in the distance,
shutter the lantern.
Don't dare take a breathe
that will give us all away.

Knights shields hold secrets,
embossed with codes,
sword topped sarcophagus box,
containing what?

What indeed, tricks and traps.
Skill is needed,
to navigate the deadly
corners, keep your wits sharp.

But that light is like a grid,
cast through storm grates,
hiding only one eye,
that stares from the dark.

Each pool of light
offers false comfort.
The dark brings security

Stone slabs slide open,
with grinding teeth sounds,
amid rising dust,
a treasure inside?

I hear them rise from the depths,
their ancient bones rattle,
deep like hollow thunder.

Beautiful white Datura opens,
it matches the full moons glow,
both can be deadly, poisonous,
one from the night's creatures,
the other if ingested.

Sticky and prickly,
the size used in ping pong,
the fight breaks out,
under the sweet gum tree.

Upon my dais, I must stand,
each construction brick a choice,
growing higher year by year,
with each decision and thoughts to voice.

There is no destiny, except the one we make,
there are no reasons we are here,
just a random bit of chance,
just take a look it's all quite clear.

So when you lay the mortar,
between decisions made,
will your building be secure,
with considered choices paid.

Or will it rock and twist,
with the blowing winds of change,
will it be square, cookie-cutter ticky-tack,
or will it be your own, secure but shaped quite strange.

You're the general contractor,
the platform of life you must build,
stand upon it proudly,
the power is yours to wield.

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.

Revenge may be a dish best served cold,
but regret is one on which grows mold,
the punishment for snap decisions,
and words of anger and derision.

You cannot go back, you cannot fix,
it has become the batter you mixed,
so understand forgiveness you may entreat,
but this is the cake you made and have to eat.

I am the negative post
you are the positive
sparks fly when connected
but our love illuminates the room
incandescent
fluorescent
phosphorescent
visible and invisible
just like light from a bulb

petals of crimson
powerful black seeds sprinkled
narcotic beauty

Mirrored footsteps on pine needles,
oak leaves crispy crack each step,
I can hear faint breaths from behind me,
but each time I look, nothing.

Faded shadows swirl behind trees,
faces in the gray and black bark wink,
taunting me, feeding on my paranoia,
birds fly, startled by something not far.

Knocking sounds in the distance,
something flies by my head,
a rock bounces across my path,
a giant splash from the creek.

I proceed at my own risk,
large footprints in the mud,
suddenly I am surrounded,
a dozen deer run by, tails flagging.

A mountain lion screams in the distance,
is that in fear or warning,
either way I walk in the territory,
of large hairy beasts, afraid, but unconvinced.

Tuille dreams,
hiding secrets behind,
longing for the future.

Chemical madness,
tie-dyed, spinning thoughts,
swirling madness.

The soul soars
free of its container,
speeding into the future.

And so the trip goes,
passion-fueled escape
into the new unknown.

Beautiful colors swirl,
clouding realistic images,
the truth is lost within.

Lost amongst the trees,
in the open jungle plain,
things hide and are never seen.

An unattainable wish,
it is against human nature,
the sadness of it all.

Relationships end,
hearts must mend,
times needle and thread,
or another's bed.

Shattered limbs and lives,
storms aftermath path,
riddled with death and collusion.

I look up and see,
a rose-red bubble
surrounding me.

A large stalk grows from its middle
topped with yellow dust,
as I look I hum a giggle.

The fragrance here is heady,
I feel a bit stumbling drunk,
as this whole thing is unsteady.

I catch the wind and fly,
taking dust with me,
as to my trade, I ply.

Crawling now through pink sticky
upon the prickled tossing head,
walking here is quite tricky.

Now home I go on the wing,
joining all my mates,
thank goodness I did not have to sting

Smiling moon in disguise
I see fur if I blur my eyes,
I hear riddles and hear a purr,
most of it completely absurd.

Talk of jabberwoks and of queens,
some of it borderline crazy obscene,
philosophy spouted and spewed to annoy,
sheer nonsense has been employed.

Guiding me where I shouldn't go,
I accuse, but says it isn't so,
changing colors all the while,
the cat's smile, does beguile.

Let's have tea with crazy folks,
chew your crumpet so you don't choke,
ignore the mouse and the hare,
don't breathe the chemicals in the air.

Paranoid thoughts, from mad hatter,
look the whole place is  tattered,
appearing cat  evaporating,
still spewing nonsense, exasperating.

Aggravating those in charge,
he does know how to live it l large,
crazy people are the best,
because reality rules the rest.

Fiddle faddle flee and fum,
Tweedle dee and Tweedle dum,
hookah pipes and caterpillars,
****** cat leads us on a thriller.

Helping those he put in danger,
this is why you don't talk to strangers,
losing his head in the end,
or will his whole body mend?

an odyssey,
deep in the space of,
the grey matter corners,
of my mind.

filled with electronic pulses,
picture flashes,
of the past,
and the future.

loves lost and found,
static and music,
a maelstrom,
and a singularity.

swirling vortices
of serotonin,
and other transmitters,
forever in flux.

I hear a noise,
a question,
from a distance,
infinitesimally quiet.

God, are you there?
a voice whispered,
which is my own,
no, it is only me

Turn emotions of all kinds
into words upon the page
a new world forms
in the minds eye
and sets a brand new stage

Beautiful images fill my head
the words ignite a memory

Love expressed through looks and verse
Never to be shared
But if ever given the chance
I'm sure you would be there

Love to give
builds up and spills out
as a fine line of poetry

Lingual exploration,
enjoying her taste,
going back for another.

Thrown over my shoulder,
dissolved into my past,
crystalline stones,
no longer season my future.

Opinions and decisions
drawn on life's experiences.
lead each down our own path.
sometimes requiring introspection,
and examination of our own,
inner demons.

Entrenched history,
paints the future,
but you can change the hue.

Metallic bead necklaces,
in reds and greens, and golds,
dangle from necks,
and twirled around fingers.

Two foot tall
color changing glasses,
containing hurricane forces,
stirred with massive straws.

Quarter is invaded,
by screaming masses,
eating sweet colored cake,
hoping not to find a baby.

Briny boils and spice,
ignite tastebuds,
and start a sweat,
adding to the humidity.

Fried dough topped
with powdered sugar,
like a blizzard of sweetness,
brought by du monde.

Reptiles coast through bayous,
ghosts escape mausoleums,
ancient religions create
and control the living dead.

Puffs of breath illuminate,
in the cold moonbeams,
icicles grow on eyelashes,
trapping the water vapor.

My eyes are warmed,
by the view in front of me,
swaying hips in ski pants,
waiting, unknowing my want.

Fur  escapes the hood,
marking the halo
in the early evening,
a snow angel walks.

Snow forms in my hands,
chilling them to blue,
I approach from behind,
my hand creeping.

Suddenly a scream rings out,
my hand found a seam,
and ice cold palm applied,
under her jacket and shirt.

Upon the land stupidity reigns,
common sense lost to time,
righteous indignation flowing thorough veins,
anything deemed offensive is a crime.

There is no rhyme or no reason,
vocal minorities lead the charge,
they killed history and holiday seasons,
with every day their ranks enlarge.

Lost in a lie that life is fair,
think through participation, they are owed,
but being human they only err,
but the weeds of life go unmowed.

Soon a jungle covers the land,
and no one gets to say their piece,
it's now a slippery *****, full of quicksand,
no one escapes the thought police.

Genders bent and words outlawed,
what once was funny is now shunned,
where there was laughter once guffawed,
we all sit in silence stunned.

Cemetery trees
oozing brown leaves
the mournful wind
cries over the sins.

My guide in black
face like a heart attack
leads the way with her wand
toward a green bubbling pond.

Here we sit in a hollow log
watching for movement across the bog
strange creatures, come to drink
zombies, and monsters, slither and slink


Here's our prey, and she points a bent finger
a mistake for this creature to linger
once a man, still on two feet
Now something you'd not want to meet.

Part scorpion, and pig, scales like a snake
she motions for me to aim and to take
Cross hairs align, the safety is cleared
I pull the trigger, in her eye I see a tear.

As he goes down, her facade dissolves
with his memories death, she is absolved
a beautiful woman, emerges and grins
the scenery changes as her hearts on the mend.

Happy birthday to my bride
you simply take the years in stride
ageless beauty you possess
simply better than the rest

I have no gift of sparkling gold
but my love can not be sold
it belongs to you forever more
and that does not come from a store

Words on paper from my mind
hope to tighten, ties that bind
let you know my heart stands clear
I love you, Happy Birthday Dear.

I walk the ****, the chasms edge,
occasionally dangling from the ledge,
I'm tied off, to her on belay,
only she can save the day.

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.

Yesterday's comments still stinging,
like rocks thrown at my back,
the attack never complete,
as it plays on a loop in my mind.

The smell of the sweat
as I lift my hat from my head,
the heat and days issues rise
like steam off a pressure cooker.

Snifter of scotch is poured,
the amber a tonic to see,
the smell of peat and seaweed,
the taste of smoke and salt.

******* back
and a quick refill,
begins to dull the edge
sharpened by Monday.

A treat sealed in a wood humidor,
opened up to another delicious smell,
tobacco from Dominica, I clip the end,
a quick dip in my scotch, and hunt the lighter.

A wood match found and lit
the burn invades my mouth,
puff, puff, puff, and exhale the smoke
as it climbs, so does my spirit.

I sit and put my feet up,
enjoying the tastes and smells
of wood smoke, tobacco, earth,
and letting both burns cauterize my soul.

muddy water hides
freckled skin reddened
multicolored cloth surrounding

The monsters dwell inside my thoughts,
on some occasions, we have fought,
the say up, while I say down,
I try to smile but they just frown.

I know not from where they came,
but they are masters of the game,
insane they are driving me,
but I will never let them see.

You think you have done it,
job complete,
the end.

But what you really have done
is bounced,
a ballistic arc of life,
the journey's not complete.

Each bounce is but a step,
graduation,
college,
graduation.

Job,
promotion,
marriage,
parenthood.

Anniversaries,
birthdays­.

Weddings,
funerals.

However
you measure time,
like a flea hopping,
life is a trampoline.

Just bouncing along,
until there is,
no spring left.
death.

Fog and haze,
create a maze,
ever-changing in the breeze,
want to know? just ask the leaves.

A ship with no rudder or sail,
adrift and at the whims of the current,
seeing where it will travel,
enjoying the experience.

Prowling the oceans clear blue,
from bottom to top and ranging far,
looking for love and food,
with little else in mind.

With just a sip or two,
crystalizing emotions,
as the amber fluid,
jailbreaks my tongue.

X Y Z axis locations,
changing at my command,
thinking outside of 2 dimensions,
allowed outside the boxes boundaries.

With the beat of wings,
from the cage, I fly,
circling the moon,
and penetrating the clouds.

Clearing a space,
to soar,
aloft under the stars,
on the edge of space.

A vibrating feeling,
in the middle of the night,
vibrating cell phone,
sheds glowing light.

A pressed button,
and a soft hello,
you don't have to look,
you already know.

A silken voice
sets your mind at mass,
she says I'm sorry it's late,
but can we talk, please?

The longing in tone,
the cracking of voice,
in need of sleep,
but you have no choice.

Conversation ensues,
settling minds and hearts,
I miss you and love you,
is like a poisoned dart.

I'll be home soon,
at the end of the week,
those telephone touches,
runs a tear down your cheek.

No holds barred, nothing held back
I go in on full attack
shed the blocker, I see his back
He feels me but now he's sacked