Raw red bacon,
wrapped in a string,
tossed into the clear pond
watching, waiting

The brown creature,
shoots backward,
through the water,
as it approaches.

Claws clamp down
on pork belly fat,
the string goes taught,
and I lift him into the air.

Dangling over the canary yellow bucket,
he turns loose and lands with a splash,
reunited with 30 of his kin,
as they make circumference circles.

The crickets sing under willow branches,
and bream patrol the dangling limbs,
waiting for a fat one to fall in,
and become a swimming meal.

The big bullfrog sits and watches
me from the opposite bank,
wary but comfortable now,
he sings his croaking song.

One more crawfish on my bait,
and he falls into my bucket,
I walk through the pasture, home,
where water is already boiling.

She slowly destroyed me,
beginning with love,
that faded like the sun,
at the end of the day.

Wounded and healed,
at the same time,
by loves bullet,
shot into my heart,
by her smile.

Serrated teeth,
bite ferociously,
into skin and flesh,
sharpened silver flashes.

Scarlet drops start,
followed by pumping spray,
a fountain of life,
slowly empties

Lifeless and floating,
in the barren sea,
until I bumped into,
your life ring.

Your love resuscitated,
me back to breathing and life,
healed all the damage,
sustained over time.

Emotionally drained
by the heartache and pain,
she chose another,
now my heart barely flutters.

But there is an opening
deep down inside,
where love can fit in,
though I hurt inside.

A bit of magical spark
that keeps hope alive,
to heal and move on,
in spite of my pride.

My search continues
as I soldier on,
mending my heart,
will not be withdrawn.

Pick up the pieces,
of my shattered heart,
adventures are out there,
my journey restarts.

Perhaps the song lyrics are right,
looking for love in all the wrong places,
is how I may have been,
so I'll take my cards and hope for aces.

Fate, deal me a queen,
and I'll place my bets,
will I win this time,
I just don't know yet.

But I'll play the game,
one hand at a time,
looking and searching,
for one to be mine

Under gentle hands she is guided,
a listening ear she has confided,
but be aware or sweet nectars trap,
the ending comes with a snap.

I slipped and fell through the veil,
my sailboat has set sale,
yet I was not aboard,
now my soul sadness is poured.

Razored edges, bleeding tears,
trapped inside my selfish fears,
lost in the maze of what-ifs,
the culmination of terrible tiffs.

Understanding in hindsight,
crying drops into the night,
if only's running through my head,
an empty bed, I climb in and dread.

Upon the wind, I take flight,
where will I land, where is my plight,
hopefully fertile fields of green,
and not a dump, defiled, obscene.

A piece of bone kept,
a jar of tears wept
a piece of clothing, a bit of skin
anything to remember my sin.

The Sandman was scared away,
by the demon not tucked away,
I cannot dream, I cannot live,
something has got to give.

I fight the monster with Ambien,
and Lunesta has become a friend,
but he creeps back from banishment,
and tortures me with his whip.

Posed picture,
say cheese.

Sitting there, all debonair,
a winning smile on her face,
I long to see and feel her
wrapped up in silk and lace.

Soft red hair, curled
and blowing in the wind,
I'm not sure how this started,
but I know where it will end.

All ******* in sheets,
clothes strewed across the floor,
a trail of them here and there
starting at the door.

Bruised lips from passions kisses,
places pink from kneading hands,
out of breath and fully spent
from our need and our demands.

Crimson carpet path,
celebrated actions or art,
kept apart from the peasants
by electric velvet cords.

As I walk, surrounded
cameras flash
and beautiful people
part as if on command.

I start to believe
what I read and I am told,
I have risen above the others
and now pronounce to them.

Like a religious leader,
but not lost in fervor,
no, simply in my own opinions
which I believe are gospel.

The truth is I'm no better
than the vagrant on the street,
the homeless under the bridge
or the people on the ropes periphery.

Yet I have forgotten this,
and will ride like a Byzantine king,
until one day, my sedia gestatoria
crashes to the ground, abandoned.

Mirrored depths, inhabited,
as the now naked trees,
reach for lost leaves,
now floating on still waters.

Koi, glide through
liquid relaxation,
another realm,
I long to visit.

This season just isn't right,
We didn't even put up Christmas lights,
Not sure why it feels this way,
As we wait for Santa's sleigh.

No Christmas party just no time,
Our best friends moving is a crime,
It's like a pall has been cast,
I'm not sure how long it will last.

No crazy presents, kids growing up,
My son drives his own truck,
Daughter, gone to college now,
Time just goes by too fast, wow.

So as another year-end draws near,
Somebody hand me an ice-cold beer,
Need something to dull emotion,
But nothing stops the clocks forward motion.

Self imposed quarentine,
like on the field without your team,
fifteen feet at least apart,
a built bonfire without a spark.

Sickness killing a small percent,
changing our lives without consent,
the end of the world as we know it,
as we're trapped at home and just sit.

Paper goods and food hoarded,
by everyone who could afford it,
education cancelled or forced online,
**** I need a glass of wine.

Whiskey probably would be better,
if your infected, wear a scarlet letter,
hope and pray for 14 days,
that once again you'll see sun rays.

I guess will see how life exists,
on the other side of this,
I feel assured it won't be the same,
I guess that's how you play this game

The sun sets on horizons west,
the last bit of orange and blue hangs on,
microwave towers, white and red flashing,
take over the distant view as dark falls.

A Cheshire cat moon, fuzzy,
Venus shines too, blurry,
both shrouded in mystery
and in misty opaque clouds.

Orion and Pleiades, glow,
fighting through the curtain,
just a hint of their true brightness,
as the low clouds persist.

Suddenly, a breeze blows, cool,
and the skies open up,
revealing the true beauty,
of the sky, out in the country.

The milky way, a streak across the sky,
twinkling stars forming other constellations,
the moon continues its waxing grin,
as Venus winks happily, now that it can see.

Codependency,
a treadmill of deceit,
tears of repetition,
yet a cycle of pain.

Sins and strain,
on souls, we stain,
though we try,
the ink is dry.

Speak now or forever hold your peace,
a hard lesson learned,
when for love,
you still yearn.

Though the void appears empty,
sifting through the nothing,
yields jewels most would miss.

Shattered thoughts and dreams,
draw blood from fingertips,
some glued together,

Coming to fruition,
others swept under the rug,
or washed away with tears.

The day's afterglow shines onto distant horizons,
the night birds sing lonely songs,
through one eye the masked tree watches,
the night begins to fall through silvered stars.

The heat begins to release from the earth,
muscles relax, letting go of the day's tensions,
leaves settle as the wind lays, no more energy,
a cooling darkness pervades.

Black Crickets invisible to the eye,
begin to buzz, thousands of them,
the quiet is destroyed by the cacophony,
until motion is sensed in the grass.

Silence grabs and squeezes like a fist,
so fast that even my breath stops,
then glowing eyes appear from the weeds,
green, yellow, shine, approaching.

Her black fur, sleek and glistening,
almost looks wet as she approaches
and jumps into my lap,
purring joins in with the crickets.

Upon the ship, I ride,
never to touch dry land,
a mistake once made,
to be paid for with death.

Birth at the wrong place, wrong time,
has set me on a path,
unpleasant destinies,
no matter how you do the math.

******, hexed, unforgiven,
the spell has been cast,
I shall attempt to avoid,
but not sure I can last.

Grains of salt and holy water,
potions to undo,
ingredients gathered,
to prepare an unholy stew.

The poisoned apple,
a step on a crack,
the voodoo doll,
I'm under attack.

On a wing and a prayer,
the sound of feathers and wind roar,
as it dives toward the ground,
yellow talons outreached.

A brown streak runs into crispy tumbleweeds,
and darts in and out of desert dunes,
seeking shelter with a squeal,
as death drops from above.

Small turmeric colored flowers,
grow in bunches surrounded by halos of green,
attracting, but dangerous,
thorny burs to puncture feet.

Black and brown scorpions,
hide from the blistering heat
under rocks and vegetation,
lurking, waiting the opportunity to sting.

The desert is a dangerous place,
as the rattlesnake leaves a trail
across the red-brown sand,
and disappears in the blowing dust.

busy hallways,
loud talking voices,
but is any work getting done?

Kaleidoscopic lighting strikes,
like when I learned to ride a bike,
couldn't wipe the smile from my face,
when I look upon her face.

Like Christmas morning trampoline,
jumping up and down, exciting,
meeting your hero out on the street,
when I look at her, my heart skips a beat.

Inside the drum the charcoal burns,
for dinner now, my stomach yearns,
seasoned ribs and chicken breast,
building a meat and wire nest.

Hang them now above the fire,
glowing bright, Viking funeral pyre,
place the lid and walk away,
6 hours to slow smoke today.

The cooler lid opens and it squeaks,
oh, by the way, it also leaks,
cold ultra to save the cals,
now just waiting on my pals.

The smoke leaks out, you should smell,
the aroma makes your tastebuds yell,
the downside though is the wait,
but its worth it to fill your plate.

Loss and hurt,
hidden under my shirt,
completely shattered,
unpleasant and tattered.

A glass of wine,
music plays,
torturing myself
with memories.

Salty tears flavor
Gewürztraminer,
and lubricate fingers,
the glass harp I play.

A damaged heart,
from loves disappearance,
improves over time,
but is never fine.

Drowning negativity
pervades the soul,
the maelstrom,
***** us down the hole.

Pressured crushing depths,
squeezing out all light and air,
epic implosion pending.

Tsunami rolling anger,
consuming totalities,
and drowning casualties.

Do you ever feel,
like you're stuck in a rut,
does every day,
feel like a punch to the gut.

Nothing is right,
no matter how hard you try,
it's enough to make you,
want to sit down and cry.

Not sure how,
but you weather the storm,
you always do,
despite it's chosen form.

The river it rolls,
and the thunder does too,
you let them go past,
while eating homemade stew.

The punches keep coming,
but you throw up your guard,
you shrugged them off,
and continue, life is hard.

The apocalypse approaches,
heralded on horse hoofs,
the dust of destruction,
kicks up behind.

The Antichrist,
War,
Famine,
Death.

Followed by the ultimate evil
be ready for pain,
and suffering,
and the end.

The wind blows nonstop,
as the semi rides down the highway,
a cloud of dust blocks out the view,
and tightens my sinuses.

The blowing straps tap out a beat,
an occasional drift onto rumble strips
accompanies the rhythm,
ever present bass drum of the wind beats on.

The windshield air leak whistles along,
I find my toe tapping
and my hand snapping
uncontrollably with the song of the road.

Costa glasses on my nose,
truck pointed down the road,
plastic worms and rods and reels,
coolers full, you know the deal.

Headed for some clear fresh water,
down on the Texas, Mexico border,
6 hours out of eddy county,
those bass are big and have a bounty.

Boat gassed up and backed on in,
ready to fight, hand to fin,
High-speed cruise to Evans creek,
down in the water, green silver streaks.

Trolling motor down and bait tied on
reach back and cast it long,
tequila worm, purple and black,
feel the line and rake up the slack.

Work it in, and cast it out,
feel a bite. Fish on I shout,
love the fight, feel the rush,
8-pound bass pulled out of the brush.

One of many for the trip,
pose for a picture, my buddies flip,
comments on Facebook all jealousy,
I reply should have come with me.

The object of one's focus,
tends to consume and direct
the body chemistry.

cold,
hot,
love,
hate,

obsession,
digression,

emoti­ons,
vibrations,

Perception is your reality.

Vicious intent,
haunts the night,
the verge of evil,
barely contained.

Veils raise,
shadows reach out,
clawed fingers grip,
the leathered hilt.

Moonlight glows,
reflected in polished steel,
danger incarnate,
walks free.

Suppressed diurnal,
contained in the light,
captured by society,
expectations bars.

Freedom to do,
anarchy of thought and deed,
lost to pleasantness,
creating mental strife.

It exists, a living thing,
the darkness infects us all,
simply waiting and probing the edges,
waiting to escape.

Through the blue pool mirrors,
of her wet blue eyes,
I can see, never before seen,
depths of love reflected.

With the touch of suede soft skin,
I am comforted by the touch of hand,
as it slides down my arm,
and into my hand, fingers entwine.

I am warmed and excited,
with the pressing of
plush pink pursed lips,
Into mine, underneath a smile blooms.

Hot blood surges,
engorging and tightening skin,
goosebumps rise,
as a velvety tongue searches for mine.

From lips to neck to ear,
as soft hums and loving words,
evoke ****** reactions, quivers,
quiet moans answer the whispers

First thing in the morning,
my thoughts are bright and clear,
as the sun shines lighter,
ideas begin to steer.

One way or another,
a poem usually occurs,
sometimes clear and crisp,
others, enigmatic blurs.

Romantic writes of love,
or sometimes more of lust,
then for a contest,
will it win or just go bust.

As I sit in silence,
Queensrÿche plays with fluidity,
I sit and write,
with Silent Lucidity.

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.

White wedding lace removed,
and vest and cummerbund,
as our destiny begins,
amongst satin sheets.

Words hummed onto skin,
like quilled ink onto vellum,
I slowly write a story
with lips and fingers and tongue.

Cool conditioned air,
along with warm breaths,
raise goosebumps and tighten skin,
as your temperature rises.

A chorus of kisses,
sang into your pulpit,
as I preach my love,
for only you.

Kneeling at your altar,
worshipping my goddess,
bringing offerings,
I pray may be accepted.

This, the first time,
joined as man and wife,
unions made,
consummated.

Swept back into emotional black holes,
inescapable pools of blue surrounding pupils,
drowning in want and knowing full well,
the circumstances of giving in.

With a dry throat,
and dry red eyes,
dehydrated from tears,
alone.

Left behind,
as she moved on,
the earth opened,
and swallowed me.

No longer affected,
the world slides by me,
it no longer matters,
I cannot be touched,
emotions canned,
never to be reopened.

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.

My love shines brighter than the sun,
no matter how far, to you, I'll run,
sweep you up, into my arms,
give you all my tender charms,

With this promise, mine to give,
for our lives, with me please live,
share my house and my name,
forever can we play this game.

engraved tombstone
tears roll
soil's handful

We are each trapped inside ourselves,
only barely scratching the surface,
of others we encounter,
simply bouncing off the outer layers.

Confined within my mind,
with nothing well defined,
fluid movements of thought,
with no anchor point.

Floating on three axes,
no control, bouncing through x, y, and z,
ricocheting wildly, only,
when encountering my skull.

I tell the future
in my shapes,
for you to interpret,
and mold your fate.

The temperature cools as the first star winks,
your blue eyes catch the distant glow,
illuminating the fast fading light.
edges soften, smudged by the shadows,
like a work of art, viewed from different angles,
intriguing, exciting, and different each time,
yet I never tire of looking as night falls.

Morning quiet, all my own,
a steaming cup of tea,
as poems grow in my mind,
and spill onto the page.

A red and white patterned ball,
emblazoned with blue stars,
rolls across the lawn of green,

Across a gray concrete retaining wall
muddy brown red water reaches
for the land with every windy wave.

Orange washers fly through the air
looking to land in the yellow trough,
in the opposite direction, red washers fly.

Giggling children sprint by with water guns,
stopping only to grab dad and friends another beer
with blue mountains on chrome out of the cooler.

Silver smoke curls out of the red stack,
the smell of brisket and ribs barbecuing,
mixes with the coconut smell of sunscreen.

Camo and flag patterned bikinis
worn by wives and girlfriends
are a stark contrast to the pink floats.

The women bob happily on the lake,
tied to a stake in the shallows,
enjoying frozen margaritas in the sun.

We all await the night's show
fireworks sparking in the night sky
the booming of beautiful artillery shells.

Is COVID the end
of handshakes and hugs,
will we all work from home,
naked and sitting on the rug?

No more Mexican beer
with salt and lime,
because we are afraid,
and remember the time?

Will restaurants reopen,
for a sit-down meal,
or did we discover,
that pick up is the deal?

I may never go inside,
another big box store,
picking up here,
killed a grocery shopping chore.

Will schools reopen,
as brick and mortar places,
or will teachers and students,
just know webcam faces?

The great lockdown,
will be remembered as the years go,
how did it change us,
just have to wait and see how so.

Lost in pain
from the strain
as time goes by
the years do fly

Salty sweat flavors,
energetic encounters,
syrupy sweet kisses
poured from my mind.

My memories trigger
pulled by a photo,
firing off emotions
to decades soundtrack.

Big bangs, white rain,
her eyelids painted blue,
white polka dot shirt,
tight rolled faded jeans.

Restaurants and movies,
fogged up back seats,
the joy of exploration,
hits us like a bomb of pleasure.

Swimming and floating,
saccharine smooches,
as the party ball floats
pour it on me.

Bikinis and fireworks
as the night falls
into the bedroom,
Armageddon explosion.

From mid-seventies
to the mid-thirties
spring and winter fight.

We are but pieces with superglue,
holding us together, every day anew,
product of our choices made,
standing in our own growing shade.

But there are no shadows without light,
just look around at midnight,
the blackness is never truly complete,
as the moonlight gleams off life's street.

Coitus aroma still hangs
in the bedroom air,
sheets lay in tangled knots,
memories burned in,
only moments ago,
but already longing.

My zippered eyes finally opened,
and saw,
what I had looked passed
for ages on end.

The sleeper can awaken,
from dreams,
and walk amongst
the reality of life.

Those on the path,
must loosen laces,
and run,
barefoot in the grass.

We, tired and bound,
struggle with bonds,
slowly,
lubricating freedom with blood.

Like scenes from childhoods memory,
today plays out in slow motion,
with smiles and hugs and congratulations
on the day you get your diploma.

Though the path has been rocky at times,
fueled by hormones and arguments sake,
the love and honor I feel today,
is causing this parents heart to quake.

So as you walk the stage,
and climb a rung into the world,
be proud of your accomplishments
today wave your flag unfurled.

But remember life is a journey,
and this is but one of many strides,
do your best in everything you can,
and I will be filled with pride.

Landlocked,
but in my mind,
I see the sea,

Crashing waves,
I feel the spray,
and hear the roar.

In memories of the past,
and in music's melodies, I travel
from Marina del Rey to the Frio river.

Smooth clear water,
rushing through white rocks
dressed with green moss.

Beauties in inner tubes
float by, with coolers strapped,
but those never lasted.

I have loved and worshiped
but that's gone with the breeze,
now I sit and soak and remember.

Sometimes I feel the need to write,
other times, thoughts are bound up tight.
There are moments that I need to hug,
and others I feel like cutting a rug.

The fetal position is sometimes needed
when you are gutted and soul is bleeding.
Some days require a smile brighter than the sun,
and the need to go and do something fun.

A few hours in life contain love and pain,
as you watch your love's life drain away.
Glad you are, they have no more moans,
then you realize, that you are alone.

Wedding days and lifting veils,
like you found the holy grail.
Others minutes are of pure joy,
no matter if its a girl or a boy.

Seconds, minutes, days and years,
enjoy them, be happy, have a beer,
but take the good with the bad
and realize they are the only ones you get to have.

Sticky fingers on panes of glass,
no sliding down to bust my ***,
waiting for the bugs to take flight,
will eat them all through the night.

So happy, I may sing a song,
chirp, chirp, chirp, its not to long,
with my tongue, I'll feast all night,
or at least until you turn off the light.