Past at my ankles with every step
Future rolling over me without sleep.
Is there a way to replay the past without sulking in regret
Or am I stuck replaying good times waiting for my death?

It’s a funny thing
a single song
can send me
back into
my memory.

Somewhere
out there
a melody
from a movie
I saw as a kid,

I hear that song
and feel
a tinge of sadness
as tears
threaten
to make
an unwanted
cameo appearance.

The first time
I heard this
I was with
my mother
in a small house
for abused women.

Somewhere
out there
in the past
before
things got
really bad,

they were bad
for her,
but I was ok.
I did not have a clue
what we were
going through.

Later,
the pain
that jaded her
would become
my shadow cloak
to wear,
as I looked
for somewhere
out there
where
I would be free,
from her rage.

I never really
found that place,
but when I hear
that song,
I can recall
my mother
before the fall.

Even at
a cynical
thirty-seven
a small part
of my heart
longs for
the loving mother
that was
somewhere out there
before those bad days.

I will never be able to―
tell the full story. Winds
are changing and―
the innocence has ended.

Centuries of recital now
starts the inquisition. It haunts
my psyche. In deluge―
the ferry will ever come?

Yesterday you had seen me
in a very vulnerable state.
Even gods weep.
Do you know what is muse,
goddess of art and an inspiration
of a poet?

In one of the poem I had
asked my muse, can you prey for me?
This is my style of conversational
or confessional poesy.
What do you say?

The bells broken
And the language discerned,
Break free the chains
That hold hearts vague:

I was in a dream awoken
By a wishs crescent smile
And only the blue sun
Had made the light clear.
    I had been made for this,
Clear like voices unspoken
And I am free,
Driven from the boldness
Into the sake of hope,
For hope's sake.

I say now there is nothing
And nothing has bloomed,
The age of orion
When the blood moon rose
And men became lost,
I am,
So that you will be no more,
Lost in the drizzle of the unspoken.

Rain down on me your fire,
I am found in the light of my
Structure,
Thar which they cannot break
And i am a poet,
Nevermore in the mind
Reality is fools gold,
Taken to my chambers
Where my body lays
But my soul is free.....

Never succumb,
Your truth is the dream
That you awaken from.

The clouds, then the years
drag through my hair
like a plow traveling through
this sandy gray soil of mine

There are many theories of time
like words that can pass
into the mouth of a Mason jar
and stay there forever, and last
like a message at sea floating far

How is it there are trails
you cannot follow for being
so **** dog tired, something
now, and not was, returned
from so many journeys

I have not set my foot down
in this nest of copperheads
to break the eggs or be bitten,
this is simply where I wanted
to be struck and born.

Night is less overwhelming
I feel less confused
It’s easier to deal with shadows
Subdued by the moon

The Pelt
Dressed in a fur coat of starving foxes
she made her great entrance at the supermarket.
The foxes tore themselves loose
and attacked the delicatessen that served
cooked chicken in black boxes a and cellophane,
but avoided the cheeses display.
They had been hungry so long and lost the fear of mankind,
attacked the guard who tried to stop them.
Only when sated they slinked away so rapidly I was
not sure if I had seen what I saw, but the lady
who had lost her coat was cold, and she cried.