(Me) pop-pop since the day we first met you always informed me everything would be ok. From your distinct whistle,your classic demeanor and loving charm. You were the richest definition of a man, a father, grandfather and a husband. But above all you were a protector.
As we sat in silence, you and I and I told you I would try to stay strong through this journey, but it would be hard not to cry. I felt I was losing my protection. No words were spoken , you asleep and me in tears. I knew my heart was breaking because my soldier will no longer be here.
( whispers ) pop-pop I need to know it will be ok, I still need that protection.
(Pop-pop)  please don't cry because I am gone. Sing because I am free. Remember now I can be happy. A soldier to you I will always be. My child , I will still protect you for God has given me these wings.
Yes I had to leave but not with out a fight. I lived the way I should during my 87 years of life. Now wipe those tears so you can see I am at peace. I have to go and continue my journey to heaven where my wife has built a new home.
So remember even though I left you . Neither one of us will be alone .  
In memory of  my pop-pop DAVID E EVANS
Sept 30,1925 - Sept 06, 2012

Its the line we all dread to hear
and once the card is on the table
everyone screams *******
but in some cases
it holds true
I was always the one to step in my
own way
preying upon my mind
illuding myself at every turn
I regret this matter it leaves me cold
shivering at what people may have felt
left wondering in an after thought
But I can assure you it was never you
it was my twisted mind and bent will

gun unslung
hanging by his side
swaying with his step

his step thorough
leaving sand behind
floating like particles of dust

dust now forgotten
as his step imprints
upon broken glass

glass shatters more
crumbling
like the cities of Israel
beneath the feet
of falsely declared gods

gods that now drive the mind
with intrepid pace
towards the unsuspecting

the unsuspecting victim
of such malice
that can only be embodied
by death

death
only defied by those
who can truly consider themselves
wholesome and true

and yet the truth struggles
to stop this relentless growth
of pride and self righteousness

and thus the marksman
raises the gun to his target

his breath steady
his heartbeat in his ears

a resonance that he despises
his imperfections are his enemy
And if not to be perfect then what else?

he pulls the trigger

The hair that fell to my waist
Heavy like a curtain
And blonde
And parted on the side
That covered my bare *******
and got in the way of kissing
And It got stares
And It got petted
Like some fine horse
With some fine mane
A rare prize
And the drunk boy
Sitting next to me
That I didn't notice
Who was twirling it around his ***** finger
And that other man
That I didn't notice
Who became obsessed with It
His ***** fetish
And in the middle of the night
He did Those Things
So one day
I just cut It off
Above my shoulders
And everyone was sad
Why WHY why
Did you cut your hair?
But we still like It

So I just cut it off

Until it was above my ears
And I can see the disappointment
Of Everyone Else
Who doesn't understand
So sad
about It
And I smile.

beyond Montana’s yellow lines
there is a field
~a field of painted soles
     and laces rubber tread
~a field of ****** curls
     and fallen headlights
where kaleidoscope lenses
look onto twisted frames          like origami halos
where teddy bears hug stop signs like pickets
     fringed in anger
          runaway childhoods sleep cautionary tales
  
beyond Montana’s blushing acne
there are red cup melodies
     blasting from blacked out tints
          weaving blues notes through Rock & Rap
distant cries are drowned by Bass
     or maybe Bud (light)
a haze of teenage eyes
they might as well be ghost riders
whip game copped from GTA
these pubescents are a Vice to their City
blooming sidewalk sloths
like flowerbeds

beyond Montana
is a country of bar stools
   where bar tenders play therapists
        and therapists play coroners
precedents are shots of whiskey - taken to the head
and reflected in flooded eyes

beyond Montana
is a country of MADD mothers and SADD students
beyond Montana
is a country of unexpecting pedestrians
beyond Montana
is a field
~a field of wing-clipped snow angels

That field is Mariah's home now
and she challenges you to change
   yourself
        your friends
             your country
she challenges you to
**STOP DRUNK DRIVING

I Have My **** Ups
I Have My Flaws
I've Cried For Many Things
I'm Not Gonna Cry For You