Blurred visions,
seen through
prismatic lenses.

Iridescent scales,
shimmer romance
in turquoise waters.

Enraged waves,
froth the surface,
whipping kelp frenzies.

Lost in the rocks,
searching for nourishment,
crab claws open and close.

Reality closes in,
graphite imprints white fibers,
imagined colors drain.

Lost in the sketch,
mental vacations permanence,
shattered like a dropped crystal ball.

Swept into a pile,
but cannot be retrieved,
lost forever ephemeral.

healing and cooling tears
aloe vera for my soul
which eventually heals.

Lost in the folds,
drowning in dew,
ecstatic convulsions,
the feeling renews.

Exhausted and sweating,
gasping for breath,
the feeling of living,
through little deaths.

Heartstrings tied together,
cupid plucks out a few tunes,
relaxing in afterglow,
stacked together like spoons.

A piece of soul cast by the sun,
follows me down the street,
closely on brick alley walls,
and long and running away in the wide open,
getting taller as the day goes by.

I am amazed as I watch it,
it is just like me, minus the detail,
It is a cross section of who I am,
just missing my inner light.

Perhaps this is a part of me
of which I am unaware,
it tries to tell me about itself
but alas, I do not understand.

On overcast days though
and into the lonely nights
I miss my ever present companion,
like a piece of me has been taken.

Fabric covered with gravel,
the weight presses me down,
the sun burns down from overhead,
the wind in through a small hole,
directly ahead is my only relief.

From twenty stories below me,
the sounds of the city rise,
hot dogs and coffee smells waft by,
the sounds of airport's flights overhead.

Through a small pane of glass,
I watch the world marred by a cross,
silent, patient, watching wind speeds,
men, women cars, trucks, all being watched.

Searching slowly through my small window,
for a particular face, male, large cheek scar,
blonde hair, parted to the left, glasses,
Armani suit, charcoal, matching briefcase.

Seventy-two hours, barely moving,
cross now moving across the sidewalk,
faces, faces, wait back one last person,
smug scarred face, positive identification.

Following out of the Starbucks onto the walk,
slowly tracking, out into the open park,
finger slowly creeping taking up the slack,
breathing composed, even, easy.

Nothing behind him, all alone now,
finish the squeeze, a punch to my shoulder,
a balloon pops in the park and birds fly,
a body not moving now lying in green grass.

A business man rides down the elevator,
briefcase in hand, tailored suit,
strolls casually out into the street,
non-descript, disappearing into the crowd.

A single bead at first
begins to run down my spine
turning into a torrent
as sol begins to climb.

Skin begins to redden
in the July sun
it's is not hard to tell
that summer has begun.

Mercury climbing up past ninety
even in the darkest shade
the beer in my Yeti never gets cold
the heat doesn't care how much I paid

Lakes and rivers, oceans too
the people flock to in mass
standing neck deep in water
waiting for the scorch to pass

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.

Be ever aware
of the targets on you,
with every word spoken,
bows are drawn back.

Every step and thought,
how you dress,
the company you keep,
adds projectiles to their quiver.

Waiting and watching,
usually for your back to turn,
or for you to exit earshot,
their arrows are loosed.

Turn and face them,
duck and dodge the onslaught,
some may draw blood,
but never let them hit cleanly.

The poison on pointed tips,
work to cause self-doubt,
wear on you and cause lethargy,
a diminishment of self and dreams.

But knowledge, intelligence,
the willingness to be your own,
is a mighty shield, wield it proudly,
it will deflect all doubt and envy.

Powered by will and confidence,
honed over years of attack,
protect yourself,
cast it over others in need.

The last remnants of blue,
spray painted orange and pink,
in stark contrast to the opposite horizon,
swirling blacks and grays, sewn together,
by golden and jagged lightning bolts.

Mud puddles ripple reflections,
as the red velvet mites search,
tiny termites swarm in the passing breeze,
following the path of the monsoon storm,
seeking out new soft earth to tunnel.

A gray horn toad sits
ringed by red ants as they struggle
to rebuild their nest in the wet dirt,
it laps them up one at a time,
with a pink sticky tongue.

green wing teal fly by
underneath a clear blue sky
hunters stand ready

dripping pink sky smears
aquamarine accenting
designed by the sun

Steel rail sections of rusty brown
create a steady heart like beat,
as iron wheels travel quickly
over the girder bridge.

Pale naked trees stand still,
despite the metallic music,
a final autumn leaf falls to the ground
dislodged by the smoking train's whistle.

Oranges and ochres and touches of green,
paint the day with brushstrokes of fall,
anonymous passer-bys, notice nothing
in their shadowed silhouetted existence.

In my mind a tapping,
in my chest a pain,
it becomes a rapping,
to accompany the rain.

The thunder of my heart,
strikes lightning in my toes,
I caused it to start,
better than any foe.

Twisting winds of destruction,
deep within my soul,
constantly changing my construction,
I am never truly whole.

A tidal surge of emotion,
warms me from inside,
my joints lubricate with lotion,
minty freshness in my stride.

A torsion twisting in my back,
mental sinkholes ******* sounds,
I am under full attack,
and cannot go to ground.

Flashing silver scales,
under flowing river water,
hidden eddies behind rocks,
harbor the beast I seek.

The sun casting shadows,
as I cast my line,
the splash and pop,
of the chug bug, I stop and wait.

Silver and copper blades,
glinting in the cold green water,
the afternoon sun,
casting reflections.

Tributaries mumble as they enter the river proper,
splashing bait here and there,
the flash of green and orange,
juvenile sunfish schooling.

Fathead minnows,
dart back and forth,
at the surface of the water.
ripples following behind.

Mosquito larvae wiggle,
as the mayflies emerge,
lacy wings, erupt in mass,
the water’s surface explodes with fish.

My fly drifts through the air,
attached to canary floating line,
I matched the hatch,
as it hits the water, a strike.

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.

The medicinal burn inside my mouth,
I can feel it traveling down south,
a bit like fennel and tarragon,
licorice unctuous, I frown upon.

Perhaps, she was right as Disney,
full of music, magic, and whimsy,
a spoon full of sugar is what it needs,
a bit of *** punch would be fine with me.

But feeling better is the hope,
so I swallow, and try not to mope,
go back to bed, to sleep it off,
only to be awoken by the cough.

Pillow soaked, as fever breaks,
another dose its time to take,
4-hour cycles, I hope to end,
once my bodies on the mend.

The smell of turpentine
as the needles poke me,
underfoot and overhead,
greens and brown surround me.

The lush carpet barely makes a sound
as the needles interwoven flex,
an occasional cone sits on the ground,
a glob of sap sparkles in the sun.

opaque mesh hides prizes,
Valentines night excitement,
she will be mine.

Never hidden from sight,
the moral authority searches,
anonymous no more,
as microscopes quests.

Looking for meanings within meanings,
if any inkling of offense is found,
expect a social media stoning,
nothing can be let go.

Satellites, traffic cams, on every phone,
there is no escape, no recourse,
desert islands are no more,
everything can be seen, even under your skin.

We can look to the beginning of creation,
Hubble's eyes see deep,
Keppler examining long distances
attempting to find other habitable worlds.

Tethered to sea creatures,
patrolling the dark and pressured depths,
it is a visual world,
and there is no escape.

Examining eyes, stare my way,
but these I don't mind at all,
baby blues belonging to my wife,
attached to a smile.

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.

Streams of death,
slowly turning black,
a face slowly going slack,
exsanguinated to last breath.

Flaccid and white,
matching the snow,
as the life is gone,
no more flow.

Muscles beat,
the final song,
hemoglobin waterfalls,
no longer strong.

A million passing faces
on the highway and back roads
a two finger salute from the steering wheel
anonymously passing, never to be known.

Eye contact and a nod or a hello,
passing down the hospital hallway,
in 12 different facilities over 17 years
simply another possibility passed by.

A road passed by, and a wonder
where does that go, as a bicycling child
heads down it at full speed
with a look over his shoulder.

Random chance, or is it fate or destiny,
that set people in our path?
I like to thinks it's free will,
as I like to be in control.

Oh how we may be different,
if we knocked on random doors,
with a smile and conversation,
in a huge sky rise apartment building.

The many combinations,
mind-boggling statistics,
of the paths, we could cross,
yet we are unable, due to time and distance.

When I left it was sunny and blue,
90 miles later a blizzard I drove into,
from a warm 77 degrees,
to a 32 degree northern breeze.

Blowing snow and building ice,
slipping and sliding is not nice,
heater running on full blast,
driving slow going nowhere fast.

Then clears up and blows away,
we take off and think ok,
but down the road, it starts once more,
the weather wins, plus one score.

Our music is written on the page
in our combined blood,
the contract is sealed.

The angel chorus resonates
in the cockles of our hearts
and in the crevasses of our minds.

Sparking touches,
ignite passion,
singing refrains.

The climb begins,
as does ecstasy,
finale coda.

Ancient secrets revealed,
in the burning flame,
all the answers concealed,
because we lost the game.

Titans will cheat,
to hide their truths,
you had the winning hand,
but you're lost, sitting in the booth.

They played their final card,
and picked up their winnings,
and were gone before you realized,
they stole our new beginnings.

Summer night in August,
on the dock's roof deck,
overhead, wishes to be made,
as the meteors of the Perseids,
leave silver trails across the sky.

The lake whispers quietly,
in the subtle night breeze,
reflections of shooting stars,
are breathtakingly beautiful.
In the cool lake water below

A hand slides into mine,
and a head falls on my shoulder,
a contented sigh is let out,
as loving wishes are made,
watching nature's meteor shower.

Her toe prints on the windshield,
cutoffs shorts fit just right,
smooth legs and painted nails,
her tank top is a sight.

Head bobbing to the rhythm
“If that ain’t country” rocks,
even though its outlaw music,
she still pops and locks.

Looking at me smiling,
hair blowing in the wind,
we’re just driving around
who knows where this will end.

Blowing up the speakers,
speeding down gravel roads,
stopping in mesquite tree shade,
hell no we won’t get towed,
tangled up in the sunshine,
in the middle of the day,
we don’t need a barn,
for a roll in the hay.

Her toe prints in the mud,
our clothes hanging in the tree,
the creek pool is just right,
to be country free.

Tan lines reminds me
of a Texas back roads map,
after a little traveling,
it's time for a nap.

A splash of water in my face,
as crickets start to sing,
the sun is fading fast,
who knows what night will bring.

Blowing up the speakers,
speeding down gravel roads,
stopping near the creek bed,
hell no we won’t get towed,
tangled up in the evening,
at the ending of the day,
we don’t need a barn,
for a roll in the hay.

Her toe prints in the dust,
she leans on the rack,
calling all our friends,
let's party way out back.

Cooler opens and tops pop,
Willie Nelson blares out loud
a circle of pick up trucks,
a pasture party crowd.

Dancing on the tailgates
Silver stars overhead
we party till the rooster crows
and now we head for bed

Blowing up the speakers,
speeding down gravel roads,
heading for home now,
hell no we won’t get towed,
tangled up in the darkness,
at as night turns into day,
we don’t need a barn,
for a roll in the hay.

Media bias contamination,
guilt through association,
run and hide from freedoms speech,
most are a blood ******* leech.

Riot, run and break some glass,
none of them have any class,
not really here to protest,
just destroy and make a mess.

Watching the news,
a sad reality,
good and evil,
the real duality,
changing daily depending on your view,
this is what we’re going through.

Stealing, mayhem, and destruction,
not interested in critic construction,
fires lit and cars upended,
until our rights are suspended.

Water cannons, pepper spray,
still, they will not go away,
**** police, they think it's right,
then run away into the night.

Watching the news,
a sad reality,
good and evil,
the real duality,
changing daily depending on your view,
this is what we’re going through.

Sleep all day, so they’re ready to,
ignore and defy the new curfew,
businesses and stores destroyed,
now none of them can be employed.

From ideas, safe spaces sought,
Some of them have been bought,
Soros, Obama, and others pay,
so those people are led astray.

Watching the news,
a sad reality,
good and evil,
the real duality,
changing daily depending on your view,
this is what we’re going through.

Nefarious criminals with Molotovs,
riot police with tear gas bombs,
leading innocence into flames
simple chaos is their game.

Where it stops it’s a guess,
But right now a complete mess,
one day we may get along,
but for now, division is strong.

Watching the news,
a sad reality,
good and evil,
the real duality,
changing daily depending on your view,
this is what we’re going through.

Hidden in aubergine shadows,
fading into colors, darker,
the sheer dripping despair,
unconsolable.

Hints of words whisper on the wind,
reverberated voices, persuade things,
actions, ideas, unspeakable,
piqued, neural gears begin to spin.

Unbidden instructions begin to elaborate,
a plan seeking revenge starts to unfold,
behind eyes, crimson dripping blades,
smoking gun barrels, and deep pits gleam.

An aberrant smile appears,
teeth showing, grinding,
barbarous design conveyed,
a baleful, carnal laugh escapes.

The final shovelful of earth placed,
leaves, dumped from a box, cover over,
an incinerator for gloves, clothes, tarp and shovel,
ironclad alibi, the cold case dropped in a drawer, forgotten.

From the day of birth,
to first steps and words,
I've watched you grow,
through times steady flow.

Bicycles and ballgames,
scraped knees and pains,
holiday plays and songs,
seems like it didn't take long.

Driving and friends,
dances and proms,
homework and tests,
with hope for the best.

Here we are again,
another beginnings eve,
cap, tassel, and gown,
as high school winds down.

The pride in my heart,
tears ready to spill,
the diploma is handed,
in life, you've now landed.

And now a new journey,
you alone must begin,
just do your best,
you made it through the first test.

Happy Graduation Day.

Whispers words in an ear,
fingers stroking far and near,
ice cubes traced upon naked skin,
hot breath blown through lace so thin.

Hot candle wax dripped in drops,
the pleasant burn you don't want to stop,
cold whipped cream and a roaming tongue,
a hand flat smack on her *** that stung.

Eyelash kisses like butterfly wings,
down her hip, as I untie strings,
with my teeth and with little bites,
searching her body in the night.

There is no spot I leave unexplored,
from her red hair to her feminine core,
thumbnail drug from heel to toes,
and tiny kisses on her nose.

I like the ghosts and the voices,
but rarely do they sing rejoices,
usually bitter and always mean,
they always set a tragic scene.

My soul is bared though never seen,
with terror encapsulated screams,
the life's blood slowly spreads,
filling the others with unholy dread.

Whether celluloid or pixelated screen,
it takes me to memories of the scene,
oh my god, what was I wearing,
do not remember what drink we're sharing.

Goofy grins or vogueing poses,
weddings or proms and lapel roses,
candid shots not meant for all,
or family portraits for the wall.

Moments trapped with bits of time,
to look now is quite sublime,
some of the people that were dear,
bring some tears, they're no longer here.

Laughter bursts out of my lungs,
silly children on ladder rungs,
upside down on monkey bars,
oh the youth, eyes filled with stars.

Look at this one, I had hair,
I'm bald now, so don't stare,
Tears and laughter as we look,
thumbing through old photo books.

Mirrored personalities,
visible to none,
seen in the silvered pane,
all of them create the one.

The lover and the fighter.
the dreamer, and the realist.
the angel and the demon.
the solid and the mist.

We are all made up,
of several selves.
some we let out,
others, always shelved

Ancient envy searches,
sprayed into the cosmos,
parasitic proboscis,
draining life force elixir.

Prismatic injections,
Geiger counter clicks,
purple glowing
black light smile.

Huddled amongst constellations,
hiding from the photons,
lost with the flavored quarks
on the jello shot tray.

Slurping jellied happiness
from humanoid masses,
on a plethora of planets
distributing diseased directions.

Turning paths to cliff edges,
the precipice calling,
fingernails bite in,
you dare not answer.

But the ringing continues

blue-grey dreams attack,
melancholy clouds drift by
blanketing my soul

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.

Drunken remembrances of battles
and of loves conquests,
relived over and over,
through the amber in the glass

Our love ran out or maybe it was on the rocks,
now we're here trapped behind these locks,
virus time, stuck with each other in quarantine,
man, I think this is like some long terrible dream.

So I go to the fridge and grab a couple beers,
try and make the best, hand her one and say cheers,
looks at me and rolls her eyes and slowly hands it back,
I start to get mad but realize I'm not under attack.

I run back to the kitchen, for the opener and a lime,
like I said, we're stuck together, try and pass the time,
come back and open it, she says thanks with a smile,
I haven't seen one of those in many moons and miles.

Switch on some music for a change of attitude
put it on Luke Combs, to set the drinking mood,
we sit in silence, beers empty, I offer her one more,
she bobs her head to the tune and says why not, sure.

Hand her another, but I can't read her like a book,
still as beautiful as always, but I had forgotten to look,
George Strait shuffles on, "The Fireman" he sings,
my mind begins to run, turning over things.

I stand up and ask her to dance,
I figure what the hell I'll take a chance,
we're stuck here, maybe we can fix this mess,
she hesitates but makes her move in love's game of chess.

We dance around through several songs,
not sure why we let this go so long,
I hand her another Corona since we have the time,
she smiles at me and laughs, and says can I have a lime.

Unbidden in the night
an idea sparks to life,
waking me from restful sleep,
with the impact.

The act of contemplation
sets the thought in motion,
slowly moving at first,
but gaining inertia fast.

Soon it is moving
close to the speed of light,
ricocheting around my skull
like a BB shot into a coke can.

Bouncing round and round,
and keeping me up for hours,
until finally, energy is spent,
and it winks out of existence.

Either because I have gotten up
and written it down, because it's good,
or it simply died of its own volition,
and I go back to sleep, as the alarm rings.

Birth is a guarantee of death,
life is a series of near misses,
and occasional sentinel events,
in the end, we fade to black.

The flower's colored blooms,
wilt to brown and fall away,
turn to dust in the wind,
just as youth is over in an eye-blink.

Dark spots and waning sight,
the music sounds turns
to black notes on a white page,
that simply turns to fuzz, then nothing.

All that is or ever was you,
returns from whence it came,
cosmic matter scattered,
as in the big bang.

Rolling fog,
riding sails,
hulls puncture waves.

Schooling fish
under the precipice
where fresh water falls.

Saltiness lessened,
mellowed and clear,
under sheer cliffs.

Mood stabilized
as nature communes
with and despite me.

The pack on the move,
through crystalline snow.
silent foot steps fall.
a hush over the land.

Not a cloud overhead,
to shroud Luna's light.
moon shadows sparkle,
where paws have trod.

Trees  howl from the wind,
answered in unison,
by the pack,
a sad, forlorn noise.

Trees shed their load,
from the sound,
snow crunches,
as the howl fades.

Silvered eyes glow,
moving as one,
following a scent,
of pumping blood.

Steam rises,
nostrils breath,
bedded down deer,
surrounded,

In the mornings twilight,
red streaks on white snow,
will be erased,
by suns rays.

An insulated landscape,
heavy and laden,
like my heart
longing for the sun.

Yet trapped here,
needing to get home
to my Venus, my love,
hoping the sun will come.

Thawing out the landscape,
bring spring to it's right
and sending me home
on silver wings.

Sweets for the sweet,
such a lovely treat,
but sounds like a tease,
offer a kiss, if you please.

Dripping her kisses through sugar cubes,
do not make them any sweeter,
it simply makes them easier,
to take, by the drop,
as a sip of her love,
will leave me drunk for days.

Fleeting love and lust,
explosions fast and searing,
the feelings imprinted in neurons,
like a nuclear blast.

Staring through reality,
at a point somewhere in time,
memories of you,
are simply sublime.

Tempering reminisces of her,
with bits of today's reality,
to keep them from scrambling,
and to keep me in the here and now.

Deep timbre words,
seemingly from nowhere,
offering advice on life
and different opportunities.

Choices are the spice of life,
they flavor the future,
from deep within,
ancestors speak guidance.

Sometimes skull-rattling,
other times a whispered word,
like marks on a map,
to keep us on track.

In the end, the choice is ours,
to heed the mental whispers,
or to venture down dangerous alleys,
despite the inner warnings.

Whipping winds froth the clouds,
feathers flutter and fluffed, battling cold,
failed fruitless flight as night falls.

Roosting and brooding,
head held prominently,
as the eyes search,
one on the weather,
the other on danger.

Huddling ******,
tree take over,
muffled caws,
continues uninterrupted.

Waiting to wing,
after the storm passes,
searching out death,
as an easy meal.

Upon their brooms, the witches come
flying in a V I know not where from,
spreading disease and fear and shame,
it is how they play their game.

Virus, bacteria, and even prions,
are the things they thrive upon,
found in the places people should not go,
but from there they reap then sow.

We try to battle through science gains,
but there's so many like drops of rain,
our antibiotic umbrella is full of holes,
as our current situation shows.

The witches are here, but are not real,
simply a characterization of how I feel,
the trapped feeling of stay at home,
even though I am not alone.

Blazing sunlight, yellow and warm,
shown down behind a gray cumulonimbus,
creaking wet floorboards on the dock,
announced my every step.

Black and silver rod and reel
with green fluorescent line through its guides,
and squirming cricket now on the hook
cast and marked on the surface,
by an orange and white bobber, with a red stop.

Bouncing in the slow rolling waves
made by a just detectable west breeze,
on it the smell of hot dogs on the grill,
from down the cove.

Tranquil and mesmerized
by the hypnotic sights and smells,
suddenly the cork is ****** under,
surprised I nearly forget to set the hook.

Reeling now, as senses return,
a brief fight yields a black and silver
spotted Crappie, it joins others from yesterday,
in the wire fish basket.

Am I staring into,
or out of my reflection.
free or trapped?
who am I?
or am I him?

Shifting in a mercurial pool,
mimiced in still blue water,
emulated in a window pane,
depicted in the mirrored frame,

crisp and clear from time to time,
also appears fuzzy now and again,
bleary, filmy and foggy frequently,
the scene in front of me,

Am I staring into,
or out of my reflection.
free or trapped?
who am I?
or am I him?