A few ways exist
Where green growth
can destroy what was
If large tree grows near
Cutting it down will ..
Definitely do what it does
But the shattering thump
When that plan is used is...
Ow! we ended up with trump
And a beautiful tree now dead
When we randomly destroy
There's no correcting a path
There's just all in ..no fold
Or with neglect what was
Can be insidiously done in
By the green growth of mold
But go ahead and lump all
Together left and right as 1
Not seeking any offshoots
Because the best method
To contol the destruction
Sit in shade , encourage growth guiding the offshoot
To become those mighty roots
That's how you save the tree ,stay cool , deny the insidious parasites growth
     And then .....you can
with strong roots and decent Foundation have a stable structure
     and ...
something to build on.

Or you can just burn it all down
letting Anarchy prevail

This adventure we're on
through this space we Transit
where compassion seems
to be all shadow
And sadly non-essential
to this Garden of Life
we are growing
that is Bane of music
or sunshine
a treeless desert
Of lost hopes
or even any
realistic design
for any future
we would want
we will need
were hoped for
Nature has been threatened
by the whims of those men
who have no notion
of what will happen
if they allow the oceans
to rise up and dog our steps
into a future
into a world
that we will never  again
recognize

That mantle we placed upon you
Is not to be assumed
a shield or shadow to hide behind
Nor is it a place for scavengers to await
the approaching fate.... ....to create
its own existence
So that you can then
assume a place
among the remnants left behind
.If you stand on the side
In the tangled weeds
among the reeds... thinking
Instead of acting... reacting
To all that is sinking
what now may only be
The fingers you see
above the surface
while deciding
to weigh out
all values to yourself
before making your decision
while you ignore the march of time
and the banging and clanging
those plaintive peals of Liberty
In a frantic wake up call... To all
As it echoes out...
,... among those hollowed-out
halls of Justice
so to those of you...
... with the mantle of power
that we placed upon you ...
must decide to rise up and roar... becoming
an American icon
that future generations will
look back on with honor
or will we someday realize
That by believing all these lies
accepted what we were told
Bought what we were sold
We never knew
that only The echos
of Liberty's Bell were being heard
long after the Hammers were curtailed ..as were
all of us that you have failed
While weighing out
what values yourself
You did not stop and think
It was those
hands of time....
the fingers of fate
ringing the Alarm
until allowed to sink
into the murky history of that ever-growing swamp... while you decided to wait!

...... my memories get fuzzy
As life pushes buttons easy as operating a microwave
In warming up
a midnight snack real blueberry pie
And there in the Stark lights
Of my Barren land my kitchen table
I am able
To be trans ported
To those vans
That early life awarded night skies
When youth afforded
And we reined Supreme
like wild horses
Free to roam - free to be before the calamities
Absorbed it all
Down... To the bones

I didn't cry
As we said goodbye toss and turn
and gently weep
Should I fail to fall right off to sleep
Or endeavor to sever any sense of remourse rising up... along
the course of my day should I see
the extra key
now hung on the hook, or a stray ...
paperback book
as I put up ...that...now
extra coffee cup  
or anything else
that seems out of place designed
to leave the trace
of a tear down my face nor have I felt any sense of dread concerning that
half empty bed
Consciously choosing to fall asleep
on the couch
or recliner instead
nor have I felt any nostalgic bite
when rolling over
in the chill of the night finding no one there
to cling to
I do not choke up
when I read or hear the same phrases
or words
used elsewhere
That was said
between ....us
as we broke up  
no driving miles
out of my way
or checking my emails  over and over each day no practice calls creating phrases looking for
the right words  
not one of these things has brought any tears any pain
but I'm crying now ...as I'm realizing how unfair it is to see
by what I just shared how little I must have cared....
...... that truly makes me sad!

Sometimes
I feel old and faded
derelict and degraded
overly saturated corrugated cardboard left all alone...out in
the rain too long  
or dry and brittle curling up ..creating
a bowl-like middle
adding to the strain like it really matters that that then gathers more dust...more lint
And those
now earth-bound vagabonds
whose time came
and then went
drifters
passing through
as they always do when they ... the fallin
the no longer needed the no longer wanted  disavowed
no longer allowed
to hang around
And so apropos
The way leaves go
wherever the wind may choose to blow them to
always a few ...who find shelter
out of ....the vagaries
of the wind and in
that shallow bowl
I formed
Then like it or not
they may stay ...
Hidden away
catching more
of those infinitesimal
all but invisible particulates
as they pass our way
so you might say
we form a bond
a compilation
a strange mutation
Imbibing
longer and longer
those times
of total saturation
the very manifestation  
what one may describe as a little tribe...that by the weight of fate
and our bonded state we hunker down
here to stay
upon
this piece of ground
And together we start each doing their part
to speed us on
Upon our way
to our future of decay and yes ..its true
I once felt so..
overly saturated
cursing
the corrugated
the very way
that I was created
bemoaning how
I had faded
But in the end
I did not die alone
I did not die
we ...
did not totally decay nor did we fade away we found life
and meaning when
this little tribe found that we were bound
This little mound
To be
Exactly what
all these lost derelicts
These young seeds.......needs
to create life
And to give  
Color to reason
And a new season
To live ....life.
And in a way ...to
Find salvation in decay.

Half the room
it does consume
One half the bond
Within the tomb
Lies quiet amid
all light now gone
silent is ...
what now does loom
Over
what now remains anon
Unaware?  would not
presume to assume
Or to lay measure of
or in way of thought
upon naught
For none know what abides the womb
That within
the paranorm
of any paragon
Just what may pass between
the illum of light
Or the inate
whims of fate
As a form....once torn
Again becomes
one baby born
all norm and warm  and a petrified mass that accepted
The fact
that a lack of room inside the womb
would mean a tomb
for one
or a tomb for two
Then did
what.....
it had to do!