Wet and cold
driving dirt roads
rain pouring down
onto the ground

Water standing in the tracks
and running down every crack
begin to slip and to skid
turn into it in a bid

To regain some traction
it works but only for a fraction
of a second, so I turn the ****
the mud begins to spray in globs

Now in 4 wheel drive I proceed
should be enough to do the deed
of getting me on down the road
so the truck still I goad

Forward into the muck
hopefully and with some luck
we make it to the end
then my frayed nerves may mend

But then the bad news sinks in
we have to turn around and do it again
the cow tracks look like tiny lakes
now out of the truck each step I take

My foot sinks an inch or three
so I step to the side under a tree
try to walk on grass and roots
getting taller as mud sticks to my boots

Almost there I see the door
of the mud I want no more
into the deer stand I climb and sit
a reprieve from the mud for a bit

Three hours later constant rain
back out into the cold mud pain
tripping and sliding back to the truck
for the trip back in the mud and muck

The muds not deep it’s just real slick
depending on the route I pick
halfway back, spin sideways
not into cactus or a tree I praise

Slipping and sliding is great fun
but right now I long for the sun
you see the truck I drive is not my own
father in law’s out on loan

So get it stuck or bang it around
I will never live it down.
back to the gate no incident
onto the road no fender dents

This is day one of the hunt you see
so three days left of this for me
100% forecast of more rain
and those **** dirt tracks don’t drain

In the falling evening light,
the radio plays by wire,
Billy Joel swears the truth,
We didn't start the fire.

It's in the air tonight,
as Phil Collins plays the drums,
the melancholy melody,
drives us deeper into glum.

But suddenly a knowing lick,
the riff it, does begin,
Steve Perry doesn't stop believing,
we break into a grin.

Music is my rhythm muse
sometimes though it blows a fuse
as the bass down beat rains
fries the cells inside my brain

Then I become like cypress hill
always looking for a thrill
or maybe more like Sting
or maybe its more like Bing

Crooning low and slow
all the ladies feel my flow
and they snap along in time
dropping ******* on a dime

Up on shoulders, concert scream
I think I'm living in a dream
But I'm singing in my car
not really being a rock-star

I'm a legend in my mind
an undiscovered gem, a find
Except on nights at the bar
Karaoke time I'm a star

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.

I do not need a building of brick and stone
I don’t need a preacher, in fact I can alone
I don't need a congregation sitting on a pew
I can even do it while sipping on a brew
I don't need a choir to sing me a song
I don't need any of this to worship right along
I don't need a communion wafer or some juice or wine
I can talk to god alone and get along just fine

The outdoors is the best of churches
at the lake on the dock catching little perches
my fellow members are the animals around
they move all around me, barely make a sound
my choir is the birds, now they can carry a tune
from, the little titmouse, mocking bird and even the loon
communion is the harvest, deer, turkey, quail, dove or fish
to Cook it up and serve it to my family is my wish

Outside alone enjoying the quiet and the solitude
up in my tree stand relaxed and subdued
the wind blows through the leaves; it is the voice of god
he doesn't have a lot to say, but I listen and nod
I understand to help others and do the best I can
to teach my family, every kid, woman and man
that they too should live by the golden rule
and to not act like the backside of a mule

I was given a brain and the ability to think
and I should use that gift, not let it shrink
I can pray for this and that but that's not how it works
he helps those who help themselves, in all of us it lurks
the ability to be the best we can possibly be
I learned all of this while sitting in tree
with bow in hand and a squirrel nearby on a limb

He was sitting quietly watching me watch him.
so when you are in church on Sunday, know that I am too
but I will be out in what he created, under skies of blue
by myself, or with my wife and kids, and maybe friends as well
don’t think that because I'm not in church with you I'm going to hell

tubes drain,
cerebrospinal fluid,
as the world rotates,
passing me by.

trapped in magic circles,
surrounded by pentagrams,
as magic spells are read,
off the labels of spaghettios.

lost in the pine smells,
as the plaid shirt and beard,
of the brawny man distract me,
his axe swings at my head.

secrets unspoken,
hidden,
meanings and pictures,
and waldo is apparent.

my crazy is showing,
I feel the breeze,
realizing I'm naked,
as my soul melts.

Am I like a credit card,
my mind the magnetic strip,
or are my memories more,
like a pin and chip.

To access me you need the code,
and it's a secret after all,
if you guess poorly,
its me you will have to call.

Don't try to read my mind,
it's locked up tighter than a vault,
if you get stuck trying,
it's really not my fault.

So imagine if your stuck
just trying to get inside,
if I let you in the madness,
you may well lose your mind.

So stick to what I post,
that's free for all to see,
I keep that other stuff locked up,
to protect your thoughts from me.

syncing sinus rhythms
atrial-ventricle connections
hear the drumming beats
in our passions heat.

Transmogrification
  rarely occurs
  leaves us wishing
  for myths and stories
  to come true

Fantasy and Sorcery
magical beings and wands
escape provided
do not become entrapped

Smarter than that
but angels and fairies
I do believe in, even
potions and magic

Dreams brought to life
fae and dragons
haunt the hollows
of our pillows
and the forests
of our hair
until they fade
as we begin to wake
at daybreak

Awake now,
peek into the magic mirror on the wall
noticing white streaks among the blackness in her hair
only to mean the angels have left feathers from there wings

Standing naked on the porch
in early morning darkness,
there is just a touch of color
on the eastern horizon.

The stars look faded
and there is no moon,
I contemplate the hour,
enjoy the brisk cool air.

Then clawed feet pitter
up the stairs and to the door,
I follow the dog inside
and go back to bed.

Little brown dog,
curled up on a
green rectangle mat,
just snuggled in
for an afternoon nap.

The sun is bright,
but the wind is howling,
it is no day
for an afternoon outing.

So curl up, curl up,
with a cat in your lap,
lean back in your chair,
let's all take a nap.

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.

Parted clouds reveal,
blue skies,
and fading sunlight,
night begins anew.

Kneel and pray
to gods nature,
a renewal, like spring
healing slowly.

Tears come fast and free,
enough to fill the sea,
hidden here behind,
the willow curtain clears my mind.

When life is hard to bear,
no one seems to care,
I hike into the trees,
a place emotions free.

The plants all understand,
as my tears water the land,
they are refreshed and so am I,
and I go on with this life of mine.

To rise above,
or sink below,
the masses squirm,
inside this hole.

A mediocre pool,
of writhing sin,
where you swallow,
to fit in.

Gulp your pride,
repress your dreams,
dance the conga,
to their screams.

The Kool-aid is sweet,
slow poison filled,
the antidote is
a strong free will.

The choice is yours,
to buck the mold,
their origami,
will you unfold?

Or shall you drink,
from their glasses,
and be one of,
the zombied masses?

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.

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.

The piranhas gather at the first drop of blood,
weakness draws them in mass,
the first one takes a nibble,
then the whole mob attacks,
I am reduced to a pile of bones.

Only here and now matter,
row your boat through life's dream,
other things are but a flavor,
on the travels down your stream.

Waiting for fate,
to fill your plate,
wasting your last breath,
while starving to death.

Things outside, start within the mind,
ideas swirl and combine,
into plans and things to build,
going forward, we never yield.

A sweet sweet smile
had me walk for a mile
lured I was to her trap
the pain inflamed as it went snap.

Behind painted lips
and leg-baring slips
was a demon in disguise
unbelieved, until I saw with my own eyes.

My blood was let by her jaws of steel
my carotid ripped, I could no longer feel
my heart ripped out by painted claws
I gave into her without pause.

Trust of perfumed skin
should be very thin
and trust of a ***** grin
should never begin.

Years of recovery
lead to a discovery
a bit of knowledge for you
never bite off more than you can chew.

Tattered flags fly as flagpoles bend,
in the ever present New Mexican wind,
tumbleweeds roll and stack up high,
as all of the birds struggle to fly.

The dust blows dark and blocks out the view,
hide and take cover, here comes the haboob,
Walmart sacks and leaves scurry, crossing across the ground,
all that is heard is the winds roaring sound.

18 wheelers rolled over and into the ditch,
window whistles, but there's no tuning the pitch
the needle grass army marches, to the wind chiming beat,
there is no way to fight, just sound the retreat.

Occasional snow on desert sand,
Multicolored Christmas lights dot the land,
Green Chile stew and biscochitos,
Its the holidays in new Mexico.

Tumbleweeds stacked and painted white,
Decorated as a snowman, quite a sight,
Top hats, scarves, gloves and faces,
buttons and even boots with laces.

Ristras of chiles wrapped around trees,
the smell of pork roasting floats on the breeze,
Tamales by the dozen, ready to eat,
So tasty and spicy, what a treat.

A bit of eggnog and the choir singing,
luminaries lit and churchbells ringing,
Santa Claus in red and white,
ready for a Christmas Eve night.

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.

The waiter brought the tray,
as the colors slowly changed,
melting ice diluting liquor,
better drink it that much quicker.

The winds arrived as did the rain,
the roof blew off, sounded like a train,
headed toward the ivory coast,
with vestal virgins, whose minds were closed.

Songs were playing anyway,
as the poet had his say,
telling us about the truth,
that was really never proved.

I showed my cards at hands end,
then I asked my friends to lend,
with ante for one last play,
I wandered through, but could not stay.

There she was, the redhead there,
dancing, pale skin and a chest that's bare,
swaying once more to the beat,
later I caught her on the street.

I took her home for no reason,
told her lies out of season,
she paid no mind as I played the radio,
then we did the night fandango.

Darkness reigns as night falls,
the sounds change hushed now,
secrets from the day reveal themselves,
pinpricks of starlight attract the eye.

Movement in the periphery,
disappears when looked for,
imagined creatures and demons,
move along with the actual evil.

Silence, a blanket covering,
ripped open by the coyotes,
their howls create a flight response,
though they are further away than they sound.

Campfire light flares,
sending the night oozing for shadows,
the flickering fire creating it's own
dancing creatures, just outside the ring of light.

Gravel crunches on the road,
as headlight eyes peer ahead,
disappearing around the curve,
leaving red lights and wondering who is roaming the night.

Glowing eyes appear,
tapetum reflections of gold,
jack rabbit ears raise,
as it skirts the fire light.

I close my eyes and drift to sleep,
tent fly open to the sky,
when my eyes open again,
the sun greets me with morning.

nightmare injections
stainless steel teeth
bite the gray matter

With panicked breath,
and so hot my sweat steams,
I kick the covers to the floor,
sit up straight and stifle screams.

I hear no voices from inside,
they tell me nothing all day,
hiding away from the light
but at night come out and play.

Coalescing demons
dripping blood and other gore,
things that make movies
nothing but a yawning bore.

Awaken out of breath
just before a death
inside of a dream
almost a scream

What was that, I heard her say,
in the darkness of the night,
I say it was simply night whispers,
inspiring dreams of fright.

Do not strain to hear,
what they have to say,
if you finally understand,
in your dreams, you'll have to pay.

The monsters mumble purposely,
like the piper plays a tune,
you try to hear and decipher,
like an archeologist and a rune.

But its a trap, I'm telling you,
those hushed words filled with sin,
the more and more you listen,
ensure that they will win.

So roll over and go to sleep,
no need to pray for your soul,
if you just ignore them,
you will prevent their goal.

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.

Do you ever think at night,
what life would be without a fight,
all unicorns and shooting stars,
everybody driving Rolls Royce cars.

No boiling tears or searing pain,
never have a muscle strain,
no helmets or concussions,
everything an easy discussion.

Utopic dreams fill the screens,
everybody eating Bobby Flay cuisine,
just a path of ease and boredom,
so just let me forewarn you,
real life is not all champagne,
the truth is no pain no gain.

The struggles make us who we are,
without them, there is just no bar,
no goals to reach nothing to strive for,
no rivals or opponents to outscore.

This would breed union mentality,
I don’t need that in my reality,
I like drivers and winners,
the ones that want that chicken dinner.

Or maybe even something better,
looking to be the fast pace-setter,
be the one to summit the mountain top,
never ever looking to stop.

Work ethics are dead,
all our feet turned to lead,
we reward mediocrity,
this is simply an atrocity,

Utopic dreams fill the screens,
everybody eating Bobby Flay cuisine,
just a path of ease and boredom,
so just let me forewarn you,
real life is not all champagne,
the truth is no pain no gain.

Still under your casted spell,
years and miles have not broken,
the rosined bow glides heartstrings,
a melody from yesterday plays.

It's funny how painted lips
seen across the room,
stirs a passioned cauldron
I thought emptied.

But those lips once pressed to mine,
branded and injected and scarred,
with witchcraft skill outshining Mab,
a lust that cannot be rend asunder.

The reunion cut short,
I hurry and leave,
lest she see me,
whereupon I shall turn to clay.

Too malleable in her hands,
and too open to suggestion,
my will wants this,
but my mind must overcome.

Columbia river, shirt and pants
walking the flats in a sting ray dance
shuffle, shuffle, slide and step
is it silly, a little, yep

Casting a torpedo, searching trout or reds
out hungry, patrolling the edge of grass beds
long cast out to a floating log
reel and pop it, as it walks the dog

Nothings biting here but, its ok
I'm not at work, and I have all day
just being in the bay is lots of fun
soaking up the salt spray and the sun

Friday night, got a call from the boys
they want to go out and play with the toys
bows and guns, and rods and reels
and anything that gets steered with a wheel

Maybe toss some washers and drink a beer
I said, I don’t know, but I’ll be right here
worked all week, sort of tired I guess
just want to sit and not deal with the mess

Of packing up the stuff and hauling it out
sure don’t want to listen to all of the shouts
quiet evening, doing my favorite thing
sitting right here just breathing

Nothing
just nothing
it’s just what I need
sometimes it’s like being freed
from the hustle and bustle of everyday
I think it’s what I’m doing the rest of the day

Maybe tomorrow I’ll hang with the Guys
hooting and hollering the fun will arise
buddy said "here, hold my beer"
it’s about to be the story of the year
swinging off the tire and into the lake

Later on that evening eating a steak
hot off the grill and a potato that’s baked
stories are flowing and so is the *****
Sunday morning I’ll need to go back on my cruise

Of Nothing
just nothing
it’s just what I need
sometimes it’s like being freed
from the hustle and bustle of everyday
I think it’s what I’m doing the rest of the day

The sun is  sinking  very  fast  
it is  that  special  time  of  night  
evening  is  short,  it  never  lasts
the only time you have is now

Life's  quick  and  is  gone  in  a  blink  
though at times it feels like a fight
slow  down,  relax  and  have  a  drink  
the only time you have is now

Gorgeous  youth, it shows  in  her  face  
ask  her  out,  love  her  glowing  light  
give  her a  ring,  dress  her  in    lace  
the only time you have is now

Travel  often  enjoy  new  things  
go  and  see  the  different  sights
hear  many  birds  and  voices  sing  
the only time you have is now

I look upon the sky, after the funeral, just gray
the birds sing, but I simply hear the hum of white noise
laughing children cannot bring a smile
a lead balloon cannot float

Pins and needles, pain and then again, none
tears cried and dried, there are no more
feelings faltered, until just fade to black
emotions spent like last weeks check

Alone, but there is no sensation
I remain but I am just a shell
an empty cardboard box of my former self
heart is burning, yet I feel nothing


two combined poems from a group writing

The red worm swims
in amber liquid
sugars fermented
from baked agave

Visions await
in the bottom
of the bottle
and in the body
of the worm

Demon spirit
calling me
wishing to transport
me to an ancient land
of good and evil
where the worm still crawls

The road is hot and long
but the liquid is cold and smoky
the burn deadening me to the pain
and allowing me to slip
through the veil
where the worm reigns

When I arrive
and meet the worm
I swallow him whole
he tells me to look up
I see tinted curved glass
and a ring of blue-sky
from inside the bottle
where I am trapped

Worshipping the V
She tells me to silently
Waiting on my knees

Start and do not stop
So I try to make her pop
No lash from her crop

The ocean loves the beach
But only the edge in its reach
In and out all day long
Making love deep, when tide is strong

Brings her gifts to her shore
Shells and driftwood, passion pours
Beautiful baubles he often leaves
Some delivered by ocean breeze

Occasionally angry, tidal surge
Or needs deep entry, tsunami splurge
Hurricane force destroys and bends
Spends the rest of the year, making amends.

Love and hate, codependent
Cannot divorce, no defendant
Forced to share the same place
The beach is, my favorite place.

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

A sliver of orange on the horizon
as night pushes evening out
pinpricks of starlight begin to shine
as the wind lays down for the day

The sliver grows in the eastern sky
as the moon claws its way up
looking larger than life
in its orange Halloween costume

Color begins to change
the higher in the sky it climbs
from pumpkin to gold
and finally to silver white

My eyes are drawn to it
and I am spellbound
amazed and perplexed
by the evenings full moon

Odes to Coffee, a Haiku, a Limerick, and a Verse

Coffee, Coffee Nod
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee Yawn
One cup down, talk now

Coffee, coffee, coffee
Coffee, Coffee, coffee
Everyone shut up
Please refill my cup
Coffee, Coffee, Coffee

Coffee, Coffee yay
Coffee, Coffee hey
Let me take a drink to jumpstart my day
Off to work we go to earn some needed pay
Be a real man and drink it black
Or make it all fancy and catch some flack

Fresh and tender,
gangly limbs grow,
young leaves flap,
in the wind.

Young buds form,
longing to blossom,
unspoiled petals,
contained within.

With impatience I wait,
longing for spring,
and the warmth of the sun,
to open the blooms.

I hum in anticipation,
flitting back and forth,
checking on the progress,
of the future nectar.

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.

off season digital hunting

Dove, quail and deer
Eat corn at the feeder

Two turkey fly down from the roost
All heads come up as hogs walk by

Batteries in my pocket and SD card in hand
No rifle in hand for a reason

Currently nothing is in season
Just came to swap batteries and cards

In my trail camera
It watches and reports silently

Day and night
The comings and goings, natures delight.

The ***** and squirrels are frequent visitors
Robins and cardinals, titmouse and woodpeckers

All come for a bite
All captured digitally.

Roosters and swampy leaches,
always attacking the Georgia peaches,
darkened chasms oozing stench,
trying to control the velvet trench.

Leering eyes stare out at mountains,
saliva drools, like Trevi fountain,
imaginations in overdrive,
thinking about creating lives.

In the sty, squealing lies,
as the fairer fire fries,
in the grease, they exuded,
and the things, which they alluded.

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.

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

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.

Old sun bleached boards
creak underfoot, some sag,
under the weight of years
and threaten to quit as I step.

The old rusty open sign,
lies through its teeth,
as its one remaining chain
complains in the breeze.

A dust devil walks slowly
through the old worn out town
bringing the smell of history
with notes of manure and gunpowder.

Shattered windows and broken hearts
are seen and brought to mind
peppered with exciting gold rush
and gunfights, scenes from another time.

I return to the now, as my ignition starts
and I drive down the lane, once filled
with horses and buggies and schooners,
in the distance shiny new, behind me ghosts wave.

Hand in hand with another,
laughter and smiling faces,
seen across the restaurant,
as the stitch in my heart unlaces.

The full moon had shone overhead
but crimson clouds now blow,
the knife blade cuts deep,
from white to red goes the snow.

Acid rain eats through protective layers,
exposing raw red nerves of the past,
old memories now reopened,
new blood from old wounds sprays fast.

Simmering sadness in the pressure cooker,
now boils over with burning tears,
that had been sealed and covered,
entombed safely for years.

I slip out the side door
hopefully unseen,
my night turned to nightmare,
tonight, memories haunt my dreams.