Casually caressing
the comedy of life
A child knows not
tragedy’s strife.
There is always another dream
toy        or friend
for their fetal-esteem.
They spell their grammar
with candy and curiosity
while maintaining a history
in smile and laughter.
The heroism of Joe
        the G.I.
and the beauty of a Barbie
are created impulsively and
fueled by imagination and apple juice.

A bike is not
a means of transportation
but rather
meant to be raced and jumped.
******-Doo
and the ****** Tunes should
rule Saturday mornings
from their throne in the tube.
Monkey bars and playgrounds,
are not merely a facility
to upkeep physical activity.
Instead
it is a kingdom of escape
engineered by make-believe
funded by risk-taking
and motivated by the
eradication of the cootie-plagued
and ****** pickers.

Where did time go,
when these bones grew old
this brain grew dull
and these hands lost their callus?

The world is cruel
for the elder mind.
Yet, for our youthful kin,
Society does not exist
in coloring books
and world peace is only found
in imagination and apple juice.

Always in danger, his life on the line
Death being ever present in this land
They sent him here to defend his country
Thus is the life of a US soldier

The native peoples in this dying land
despise his presence; his merciless work
Thus is the life of a US soldier

His woman leaves him lying frozen, and
forgotten on an Afghani mountain
Thus is the life of these US soldiers

Bullets unleashed by the Mujahideen
cause American blood to mix with the mud;
the same blood that covers the young medic’s hands
Thus is the life of a US soldier

The mortar lands only a few feet away
and the boy becomes apart from his legs
Thus is the life of a US soldier

While the sergeant is screaming
               Return Fire!
A private cries out for his distant mother
Thus is the life of a US soldier

Eventually their tour comes to an end, and
they board the plane that is pointed towards home
yet fifteen seats are empty; no soldiers
               will use these seats to return home this day.
Thus is the life of a US soldier

Having done their job, they can rest for now;
rest until they are sent back to the land
they have so rightly named “the nation of death”
Thus is the life of a US soldier

The plane soon lands; the men will stand, anxious
to lay eyes on their forgotten homeland
Thus is the life of a US soldier

He will exit the plane and she is waiting
but she won’t be able to recognize him
because the scars on his face disguise him;
his sunken eyes betray his identity
Thus is the life of a US soldier

Another warrior weeps as he hugs his wife
and she hands his daughter into his arms;
he holds his infant for the very first time
Thus is the life of a US soldier

Twelve months later the men will board that plane again
and leave the land they have sworn to defend
Thus is the life of a U.S. Army Soldier.

Coffee
    Heath
        Bar
            Crunch
Will sabotage those taste buds,
Like Dublin and its Mudslides.
So blast off with that,
Fossil Fuel,
And don’t let me
Catch you.
‘Cause I’ll keep you,
My Maple Blondie.
I’ll capture you,
And hold onto,
Those Cinnamon Buns.
You’re the Crème Brulee,
Of Chocolate Macadamia,
And the Cherry Garcia,
In my every breath.
You’re the Chunky Monkey,
To this Chubby Hubby;
The Dulce Delish,
for this Americone Dream.

Can’t you see I’ve just got,
A sweet tooth for you,
And your Phish Food?
Your Chocolate hair,
Key Lime Pie eyes,
Strawberry Cheesecake lips,
And your skin is a delight,
Much like Vanilla Caramel Fudge.
Did Ben and Jerry create you?
Please tell me they did!
So I can eat you,
With my cup of Boston Cream Pie,
And I’d eat you all up, Well,
Everything but the…
Half Baked,     Karmel Sutra,
Which I’d lick,
Like a cone of Cake Batter,
And then dip into,
Like Cookies and Milk.

Imagine Whirled Peace,
On top of this Mudpie,
And then Split,
Like a Banana.
That’s the kind of Brownie Batter,
I’d stir with you,
And then add a scoop,
    Or two,
Of Turtle Soup.
And you would yell,
PISTACHIO PISTACHIO!
    Where for art thou pistachio?
And with a bowl of Peach Cobbler,
And a spoon of Vanilla,
I’d look at you,
    wink,
and offer you a pint,
of my Mint Chocolate Chunk.

Take me down to the bank,

Where the Guadelupe flows calmly through the red dirt

         that I love so dearly.

The trees cast their shadows on the river’s surface,

                 and I pretend to explore the Nile

                 as the waters carry me from West to East.

When I crawl out onto the bank,

                               and stare up at the clouds floating on high,

                               I think of how lucky I am to live under this brave Lone Star.

Texas is a land I love more than I can express with words.

It’s my home,

   my first kiss,

        my first fight,

              where I learned to play catch,

                   and how I caught my first fish.

It’s my fairy tale,

        my childhood dreams,

                   where I learned that you have to work for what you want,

                                 to say “Yes Sir,” and “Yes Ma’am,”

                                                  And to love God with all my heart.

Nothing beats a Texas girl,

     and mine is the fairest of them all,

            in this land where our kids will grow up,

                  and our family will dig its roots deep.

                        Though life will run its course,

                              I know this land is where I plan to love her ‘til we rest in peace.

I may grow old

        and stop wearing my boots

                   when I feel my time coming to a close

Yet,

When it’s all said and done,

I’ll remember a life lived to its fullest

and that my first Love was Texas;

                                                       a special place I wish to never leave.

It rains on the best of us,

So let your blossoms flourish,

In the midst of a torrential downpour,

Especially when your world seems to become an instant disaster,

Full of mud and strife.

Tomorrow,

That big ol’ Texas sun will shine on you again,

And you’ll run through fields of wildflowers—

                  a sight that you and I both know can out-do any old ocean view.

Give it a chance little Cowboy,

And I promise you’ll smile again,

As you ride off into the sunset you were destined to see.

To the ground I fall,
        Push
The sweat drips from my brow,
        Push
In cadence We,
        Push
        Gasp
        *****
He stops his pacing,
        Push?
In front of me,
        Push?
PRIvate! YOU HAVE seVERELY KAGGED UP!
    Yeah,     Push…
YOU BETTER FIX YOURself REAL QUICK!
        Push
DO YOU WANT TO BE A SOLDIER PRIvate?!?
        Hooah Sergeant!
THEN SHOW ME YOU WANT IT!
        HOOAH Sergeant!
MOTIVATE ME PRIVATE!
        HOOAH SERGEANT!
That’s what I like to hear PRIvate,
        Push

This is our anthem,
        Push
But through this we become,
        Push
Orwell’s “rough men”,
        Defend
The Drill Sergeant is a temporary devil,    
        Patriots Will
A life-long teacher,
        Forever
That demands Perfection,
        These Colors
To make us Stronger,
        Hooah
Patriots Will Defend These Colors Forever,
        Push

Fame was my name years ago.

Now I’m a white dwarf

              in this youthful universe

        and my smile is long forgotten.

I remember the days of Colvin and his Wilt.

                     There was also Cindy the **** German,

               and of course Jerry and Apeksha…

                                           and how close we were!

The Filipinos were my favorites; so nice and kind.

      I still talk to Greta, and I’m thankful for this.

A Working Poet has been around to see my world in both darkness and sunlight.

However, I remember Bliss Like This,

          as well as Aaron, and the Airships;

                                         my first follows and followers.

                            There was a new face every day

                        and friends were made instantaneously.

        Over one thousand fans immersed in my words on a daily basis…

Now a handful at best read my withering stanzas.

I’m a rotting apple

                                          on a dwarf planet.

Like Pluto,

                    I was once loved by many,

            but then they chose to forget me.

You are my slow-song,

So just dance with me, baby.

You are a sunset,

Gorgeous and lovely; Honey,

Let me sweep you off your feet.

Fame was my name years ago.

Now I’m a white dwarf

              in this youthful universe

        and my smile is long forgotten.

I remember the days of Colvin and his Wilt.

                     There was also Cindy the **** German,

               and of course Jerry and Apeksha…

                                           and how close we were!

The Filipinos were my favorites; so nice and kind.

      I still talk to Greta, and I’m thankful for this.

A Working Poet has been around to see my world in both darkness and sunlight.

However, I remember Bliss Like This,

          as well as Aaron, and the Airships;

                                         my first follows and followers.

                            There was a new face every day

                        and friends were made instantaneously.

        Over one thousand fans immersed in my words on a daily basis…

Now a handful at best read my withering stanzas.

I’m a rotting apple

                                          on a dwarf planet.

Like Pluto,

                    I was once loved by many,

            but then they chose to forget me.

the beets are looped in grass,
the squash is on our plate,
the river runs so smooth,
while the rapids take their break.
the trees begin to sway,
at the slightest hint rain,
but there’s nothing we can do,
there’s nothing we can say.
my toes begin to curl,
when the fan is turned on high,
your heart begins to race,
when the bullets hit your thigh.
the sauerkraut,
and carrot sticks,
are never done on time,
leaving us the thoughts,
of a dream world gone awry.
there’s nothing I have heard you say,
that will take away the pain,
there’s nothing you have done,
to close this little gate.
my trust is so gullible,
to the sound of open arms,
your deception was the pawn,
that swept this poor king’s heart.
forced upon my knees,
with a trademark on my arm.
there has got to be a way,
to remove this purple yarn.

Paint me a Texas sunset

O’er the Brazos

And love me like a pickup truck:

                    If you treat me right, I’ll carry you through the rough times

                    and get your heart pounding as I race us down this old, red dirt road.

Keep me in your heart and remember me always

Like a priceless photo from your childhood

Don’t let me fade away into the hills

          like those near San Antonio.

I’ll be your cold Shiner

If you’ll just be my one and only.

I’ll Love you like Texas;

            Big, Bold, and Humble.

I was bold;

Sarcastic and Young.

I could run

Ten thousand miles,

                         and then some.

I was never more sad

Than I ever was Happy,

            and I guess I didn’t quite understand

That I really wasn’t all that lucky.

Yet, I didn’t care,

            because I was as tall as the clouds.

Yet, I didn’t care,

             because I was born to go far.

My mother gave me her wisdom.

    My father gave me his strength.

And that gorgeous girl,

        whom I get to hold in my arms and enjoy life with,

Well, she’s the one who’s helping me understand,

                     just  who I truly am.

I am great.

I am kind.

I no longer have to live in my past life.

I am Nate the Great,

            and I am here beside you all,

                 smiling as we risk the fall.

I will swiftly rapture

All ye who are restless from

the nightmares and fiends

That consume your joy in a robe

Of misery and angst.

-

Bring me the souls of

Men who lie awake in fear

Of the silence brought

With the onset of sleep; O!

I am the catcher of dreams.

It’s like something you can’t explain.

It’s like the music of the rain.

A foreshadowing patter of bliss;

       desiring a long awaited kiss.

Ceiling fans spinning at their highest setting,

Leaves us questioning our roots;

                                                  our beginnings.

Church steeples arise o’er yonder plains,

     Like a little slice of heaven we use to keep sane.

Growing worlds of fervor and haste,

   Leads to long lost loves gone to waste.

The sights, the sounds,

                        the tastes, the smells,

           Provide insight to our social wells.

Laughing churns a mothers heart

               where humble souls make their start.

Glance to me incessantly,

As I become ripe and savory.

Should old acquaintance be forgot,

And the words of our fathers taken for granted,

Let us, at least, remember the strength of

Human compassion,

during these times that are so filled

with tragedy, sorrow, and strife.

Let us be lights of virtue, and

Forever remember the values of our ancestors

In the days of Auld Lang Syne.

I’m the kind of guy who tries to fly on broken wings.

I’m that sort of guy who is so stubborn,

           that I’ll keep trying to breathe,

       even when the oxygen is gone.

It’s not about comfort,

         and it is definitely not about luxury.

It’s about trying your hardest,

                 and persevering through the pain,

                             even when the pain seems overwhelming.

I was once impressionable,

     but now I’m just a skeptic,

            who’s out to fight the critics

            and prove that I’m not dead yet.

Yet, maybe I’m just an idealist;

                   a naive warrior

          for causes I never really understood.

But that won’t stop me—

       I’ll strive for victory,

      though I know victory is uncertain.

I’ll fight for sanity,

      since it seems sanity is uncertain as well.

I’m not a tamed beast to be trapped inside a cage,

Nor am I a hopeless soul

         treading water to stay afloat.

I am strong.

     I am steady.

And occasionally,

           I am lovely.

I solidify all that is true.

I Am Prestige: The Warrior Deep Within You.

An average guy,
Twenty-two years old,
Whose life is just                        a picture show.
Cliché acting
And Predictable drama,
This boy’s life
Is a rewound product.
Slave by trade;
Free Spirit by desire.
He holds his head high,
In search of his destiny.
Yet, deep down,
He’s just a common typist
Who spills his emotions
On the page of Sadness.
Good God!
Won’t somebody save him!

Distorted words, and

The common misconception

Of glamorous fiends,

Help to destroy the sanity

Of hopelessly subtle, old kings.

-

Dastardly provoked

To implore, or deceive, the

Faint of heart—cowards—

To commit themselves to war;

To attempt courage for once.

-

Yet, not one of them

Is capable of such strength.

In today’s battle,

One man here, is simply just

Another broken, dead boy.

-

Scream “Hallelujah!”

They do, but it comes as a

Whisper. They whisper,

Because they are afraid of

Their own voices; the noise scares them.

-

Circumstance may have

That those faint of heart—cowards—

Cannot see their chance;

This inexhaustible resource.

They know not their own power.

-

Brother: Please humor

The condemned souls in this town,

For they are no more

A concern for the Killers,

And Invaders moving through here.

-

The rippling muscles

Of defeat swarm this dead town,

And those who stood by

Were consumed by the vultures,

And the wolves who haunt the woods.

-

Those who could not stand

And confront the oppressors,

Because their voice was

Inaudible and weak, were

Burned at the stake, like Bruno.

-

               Yet, these plebes, could not look Him in the eyes because their guilt weighed their chins down.

-

Wickedly the cruel,

Conquering enemy will

Capture the souls of

The less fortunate who hide

In their own puny shadows.

-

Yet, even when the

Strong make their stand, and fight

Those wicked demons,

Their victory is in vain,

Because the cities still burn.

A dous e juc

Pro farel lind des

Met primi garand

Qimu loufe reile

-

Wein yus volein assere

Prestre postre payu

-

I read this with no curiosities or ambition;

Just a simple imagination.

There I sit,
On my beautiful Nel,
The big girl that always lights my world.
A Russian Don by blood,
But she’s a Texas cutter to me.
Here we sit,
Watching this wonderful West Texas sunset.
She grazes on some prairie grass;
I chew on a cat-tail.
I wish we could have ridden,
With Jesse and Bill,
And become legends,
Here in these hills.
The canyons would echo our youthful cries,
Of excitement and joy,
While we just ride, run, Live.
Maybe in those days,
Nel could have run in the pastures,
of an old Texas myth,
and I could have wrassled some cows,
to earn the spurs of my grand-father’s,
father.
If we were on the trail,
Drivin’ some Angus and Belgian Blues,
Up north to Kansas City,
And maybe one night,
The boys and I could sit around the fire,
And stare up at the stars,
Wondering which stellar painting,
Looked most like our horse.
I want the times,
When Grand-dad and Nana Ma,
Would sit on their porch,
And gently swing another night away,
Like they had done,
For the last 50 years.
Nel would be my company;
My loyal bride;
While I rode south towards San-Anton’.
And we would meet up with,
Travis and Bowie,
To fight Santa Anna,
As he rushed the ol’ palisade,
Of the mission where I would die.
The Bexar province would weep for we few,
Who stood for the ideals of a noble, new nation.
Yet,
All ideals eventually come and go.

Well, me and Nel,
We ain’t never seen a cattle drive.
We ain’t ever been outside this here pasture.
So our dreams remain dreams,
And our hope remains void.
My Cowboy Dreams,
And her beautiful mane,
Grow faint and grey,
Every Single Day.

I lie here on this beach
     starring up at the clouds above me
while an infinite volume of sound
surrounds me.
I cannot help but think
    that my life should’ve ended more peacefully
but we can’t always receive every wish
we plea for.
Yet,
    2 years ago
       I wouldn’t have thought this
is where I’d be:
     dying slowly
        on the forsaken beaches of Normandy.

The ramp drops
    splashing the sea water high above us,
and already
       four lives are lost.
Captain Morrell moves to the front of the landing craft
    and yells:
HIT THE BEACH!
        only moments before he is incinerated
by an artillery shell.
    that lovin’ 88!

I close my eyes and rush forward,
    screaming as I do,
praying the bullets won’t become lodged
       in my skull
as they **** by we few from 3rd platoon
who survived the landing.

Congregating behind these steel tank traps
         almost a dozen men seek the shelter
from cover that is almost non-existent.
But the German mortar rounds neglect our cover
     and begin showering our position with
                     molten, lead shrapnel
and **** both men and boys.
    so many boys.

The deutsch machine guns spray our position
        with their hypothermic needles
and as more men are landing on this deadly shoreline
     the water turns red from the blood
     of the youthful dead.

Another explosion
    sends the sand showering on top of us again
and my only response
       is to fire my drenched rifle
carelessly at the large, fortified seawall
    that stands between
us and victory.

Sergeant Feretti runs to our position
    and screams at us,
telling us to advance;
ordering us to leave these skinny steel bars of safety
      and the overwhelming comfort they provide us
and take the fight to the ***,
whom so ardently oppose us this day.

I’m frozen from the fear
      surging through my veins
as I stare at all the dead boys from New York,
Wisconsin,
                Michigan,
Florida,
        and Texas,
lying face first
    in the French sand.
I’m convinced that I crouch here alone
    on a beach in France;
God left this place long before the first ramp dropped.

Finally, after what felt like hours,
I muster the strength
    to begin sprinting towards
the German line,
    and it seems as if every **** gun is now focused on me;
setting their sight picture on my center mass.

With only twenty five meters between myself and the first seawall,
        I have hope that I’ll survive this cruel crusade,
but all that hope dissipates
      as four bullets pass through my right lung;
             stopping me in my tracks
like the cold channel water behind me
     as it is repelled by the European land mass
that will consume my body soon.
I slowly fall forward
    landing on my left shoulder,
my hands clutching my wounds.

It’s fascinating in a sense;
      this slow collapse of my lungs,
and how I can feel every single second that my soul has left on this Earth.
Suddenly,
    death becomes more real
than the gunpowder and smoke that is still stinging my nostrils.

I lie here on this beach
     starring up at the clouds above me
while an infinite volume of sound
surrounds me.
I cannot help but think
    that my life should’ve ended more peacefully
but we can’t always receive every wish
we plea for.

I was writing you a letter

a letter with my confession

My confession

of unruly decision

but then my hand froze

and my body trembled

and my neck

twisted

           Left,

                       Right,

           Left,

                       Right,

           Left,

                       Right,

****.



My body collapsed to the floor

like the Titanic capsized

in that frozen ocean;

like the Lusitania was drowned

by the torpedo’s bite.



There I lie

staring into nothing

because nothing stares at me.

and there I let my mind creep

into the vast expanse of death

where the demons claw away

but I can only speak when I bleed.



Mutilated I hang

waiting for the moment

when I am pulled from this hellish nightmare;

the moment when I take refuge

in the sweat-soaked bed sheets

that surround me.



Yet,

That moment never comes.

I continue to hang,

speaking when I bleed.

The tree holds me,

while I reap the consequences,

of my foolish escape.

Here, above the clouds,

I drift between reality

And dream, but even

Though you’re not here, I can still

Feel you floating through my clouds

                      gently consuming my atmosphere.

Render Your Salutes,
And say your prayers.
The night will come and go.

Follow me from this misery,
to the land of immortality.
Where you will shine,
like the brightest of stars,
and I will be,
your shadowing moon.

Take a glimpse of the Earth,
As we slowly fade into,
The Universe.

My hand will guide you,
while my love confides in you.
Together we will see,
the sunrise on Mercury,
or spend our days,
wandering the Milky Way.

I will take charge,
of controlling the march,
of this absently ambling asteroid.
And you will be,
the courageous Queen,
of this cleverly considerate comet.

Hold my hand,
and maybe we can see,
this awesome galaxy,
from where Pluto and Neptune,
watch the constellations congregate.

I want to be your shadowing moon,
if you will be my shining star.

The weight of the world will bear down upon you

The burdens of your actions, and leave you with scars

That will last a lifetime.

Yet, deep within humanity lies the determination

To do what’s right and remain hopeful of tomorrow’s

Blessings, which we believe are as real as the pain we suffer through today.

Never fear the unknown, for it will never be as challenging

                                            as those things you understand, but still remain fearful of.

Nothing is as terrible

                 as the things we continuously let restrain us from our full potential.

If You can accomplish one thing in your life,

          it should be the daily courage of accepting the unknown future before you

     without hesitation or regret for the decisions you will make.

Inaction is not a synonym for action,

    and thus cannot be an acceptable answer for how one should Live their Life.

Shoo! Shoo!

Cried the old lady in the boot,

as she chased the children

              from her sole.

While this humorous situation ensues,

      Humpty-Dumpty watches from his perch

a-top the King’s great wall,

               entirely unaware of his seemingly pre-destined fall.

It’s a shame that we never look far enough forward,

     to understand why we are breaking our backs;

well, if you don’t factor in the children who might be stepping on the cracks.

-

In another land of far away,

                the clouds rolled in and threatened the village with rain.

The itsy, bitsy spider was out of luck,

                           for his swimming lessons weren’t until the following week.

I guess Mother Nature just couldn’t control her urge to purge

         the dying earth with her liquid scourge.

-

Well I know that I’m not a Grimm sibling,

          and Mother Goose isn’t on my menu,

but looking back on these childish yarns,

it’s tempting to say that fairy tales

                aren’t really all that tall.

Maybe what our society needs,

        is a reflection on the stories we used to believe.

Crisp is the sea-bound breeze,

as I sit here on the banks

                 of lovely Queen Lake.

       I can’t begin to fathom,

the journey this wind has,

                traveled.

        The countries it has seen.

       The smells that it has breathed.

      The tastes it has gorged on,

                   Oh!

            How I envy the wind.



       A boat sails by,

            and two jet skis race around it.

Their wake is generous,

                   and the waves tumble o’er each other,

     as I sit here and wonder,

where the red leaves fly,

       when they die,

   here in Boston.

No.

       No.

Don’t push them away,

    for they need to hear this too;

all living things,

      come,

           and go,

before we even know what’s around us.



I watch the dogs splash on the shore,

      as the old church bells sing,

in Philipston;

            how can this be the land of war,

                                   and revolution,

      when it’s plagued with beauty and peace?



I lift my eyes to the trees above me,

       and watch the leaves fall,

floating in a wind that I cannot see.

    I believe that I too,

while sitting here on this bank,

    am meant to fade away,

  with the breeze.

The wind fills the sails
of an old galleon
in the bay, that is
set on course for the
far away land of
Saracen and Turks,
while the farmer, “Jacques,”
follows the horse and
plow, that is gently
creeping, so as to
not disturb the seed.

The cavern island
is the boy shepherd’s
reverie; his dream
to leave this flock that
he loyally tends,
and explore the world
like Sir Lafayette.

Fading
is the art of the world
as the distance
becomes distance
and the sails
faintly
decay.

Rock Stock the Engine Block

      Let’s Get Swingin’

                    ‘Cuz When the Moon Starts Sinkin’

We’ll Be Lettin’ Our Hips Roll All Night Long.

We’re all greased up

Like the T-Birds under a T-Bird,

            so let’***** these lights, Baby,

       and rev our engines tonight.

We’ll roll around town

                 with our rock n’ roll blaring

       and maybe later

                             we’ll catch each other staring.

Let me have a peek at what’s under the hood, Miss Pink Lady.

Dying to cruise down Thunder Road

                    let’s let our guards down

                              and see where this goes.

Rock Stock the Engine Block

      Let’s Get Swingin’

                    ‘Cuz When the Moon Starts Sinkin’

We’ll Be Lettin’ Our Hips Roll All Night Long.

Time will tell our story
As we navigate across these waves,
                     and these clouds;
       Daring to be bold!
Seeking the adventure
                        that only we can take together.

Hold my hand, Darling,
and let us chase our dreams.
    I’ll be by your side the entire time.

I’ll be there beside you;
                                  holding you tight when the thunder
                          echoes across the sky.

I’ll be there to love you
            when the world comes crashing down.

I’ll be there to kiss you passionately
                         after we’ve said “I do,”
               and the preacher pronounces us Man and Wife.

I am your strength.
You are my mind; my heart; my Love.
I may be your Superman,
              but you’ll always be my foundation.

Your heart is where I’ll seek refuge when I’m weak.
Your eyes are where I’ll remember love.
Your hand will always be within reach.
Your lips will always comfort my soul.

I Love You more than anything in this world.
You are my all, Baby,
                        so please be my
                                    Valentine
For the Rest of Our Lives.

Apply your heat,

And compromise the integrity of my being;

I’m nothing more than a steel frame standing.

I’ll crumble at your slightest touch;

                               You’re the Kryptonite

                            for this Clark Kent.

I stood majestic,

                                     once upon a time,

      Yet you learned how to ****** me—

                                      entangling me in your beauty—

and brought me to my knees.

It was then that I found out that I was not invincible after all.

                   It was then that I learned of my “achilles heel”…

You, lovely Lady,

              are my only weakness.

Chest.

Her head rests on my chest,

As we continue to look through these pictures

And remember times that have passed.

Hand.

Her hand fits perfectly in mine,

And I have to force myself to let go,

When it comes time for her to drive home.

Real.

This is all real,

And I just can’t believe

That I’m so lucky to be

With a girl like Her.

Sleep.

Now I go to sleep,

But I know she’ll be wandering

Throughout all of my dreams;

And this encourages me,

Because I know she’ll be keeping me company,

As I venture into worlds

Where I once wandered alone.

Let me provoke you.

Let me stir you.

Let me make,

           That chair you are sitting in,

Not as comfortable,

               As it was a second ago.

Move with your words.

Write your heart.

Get mad once in a while.

Feel love once in a while.

Witness beauty once in a while.

Feel disgusted once in a while.

                    Let Me provoke you.

Let me stir you.

             I want to make you cringe!

I want to make you move!

              Write!

                      Write!

Write like Shakespeare,

      But curse like Dangerfield.

Provoke Me!

                               I want to feel your grit,

   your emotion,

          your constant devotion.

Write.

Languish in language; the one only I know.

Spare me your sensitivity, Miss Queen,

And may my honor align with the truth.

I don’t want to get left here now in this

Miserable old town, where love fades slow.

Give me the aftershock of a Martian glow.

It doesn’t make sense, to sit here wasting

On this church pew when my trust has left them.

You can find me floating down a shallow creek,

Savoring the chance to taste the morning dew.

I’ll find peace in the glance between mirrors;

Where my reflection cannot follow me.

They tell me I'll be fine all by myself,

But I sit here waiting to talk to you, My Love.



              It's strange how we try to be so strong,

          yet we all need a shoulder to cry on.



I was lost in a sea of self-loathing

                          and it was there you saved me.



       A train whistles through the cool, still air.

               Not much longer will we be left in this moment.



                            I pray you know I admire you, Baby.

                  I hope you know my love for you knows no limit.



I wander under these storm clouds,

         wishing it would just rain love on me; on we.

My Flag,
Draped over this
          Box,
makes my mother cry,
my father cringe,
my friends mourn,
          But,
I do not.
This was my choice,
This is my life.
I gave it,
     in defense,
of an ideal I believe in.
I gave it,
     for my children.
I gave it,
     for the men still,
           climbing those mountains,
struggling to fight,
     an enemy disguised as a civilian.
My son will never know me,
  My daughter will have a faint recollection,
and My wife will always cry,
    when My Flag,
          Flies,
Proud and Bold,
Every Fourth of July.

There’s something in the air today

That makes me want to wash away

Onto shores of worlds that I’ll never see

And lands that are wrought in mystery.

It’s something I can’t easily explain,

Even if my thoughts were worth a grain

Of rye…

                 I’d rather die

Than let you slip away

Because I lost my grip on this rainy day

And it’s unbearable to think

That I’d actually have to think

About why you’re no longer here;

Don’t leave me, Dear.

Wallowing Willows wishfully

Consume the thoughts of misery

                  and transport us to nebulae

            located deep in the void that we call “Space,”

But is it really space we need,

Or just some time to pray and think

            about the lives we all want to lead

       or the loves we all think we need?

I’m not so fast

                                                               but that’s in the past

          nor am I slow

But I think it’s time you ought to know

     that I wasn’t left for dead,

yet rather they just laid me to bed

                         where dreams can bask in my sleep

          and pretend humans aren’t just sheeps.

Now shuffle,

            don’t struggle,

        Let life be instant and fulfilling

and don’t forget to eat your veggies.

The Shadows dance about me;

Taunting me;

Consuming me.

They torment my every breath.

They contort and conform with my every move.

Following me everywhere I go,

haunting my troubled soul—

                        Except at Noon.



The Shadows dance about me,

and I do not know where to go,

nor where to hide.

so time I’ll just bide,

until it comes time to die,

and the Shadows will follow me,

no more,

no longer,

the Shadows dance about me.

Raw.

            I want that sweet

                            sweet

            Subtle urge to

Claw

                       its way out

                    from within me.

Loose.

It only takes one

                  or two

screws to

           lose my mind

                           like Doc

       getting lost in time.

Reality.

                 I need it real bad

           like Liu Kang needs a fatality.

    I am

Desperately

             in need of simplicity.

Word.

                         Like those found in Proverbs,

              I need psychological symbols of phonetical noise

        resonating through this life

        as if we were storming the gates of Troy.

Lights.

                       Camera.

                                                   Function.

Every action should have a purpose

              lest this life be worthless.

              So I pray you forget this

        and keep calm

                                       with your chive on

        in order to strive on

through the hurt and pain.

Might as well accept the insane.

I’m Standing,

Proud.

Let these,

Words,

Fall on you.

My lips,

Are strong.

Let them,

Smother you.

This Hate,

Decays.

Let my love,

Devour you.

Spoil you.

Let these arms,

Consume you.

Embrace you.

Gently,

Carry you.

This is a good life we have,

You and Me,

Let’s make the most of it

While we can still breathe.

It’s not about glitz, glam, or fame.

It is about those moments

You wish you could frame.

Cuddling during a movie,

Skinny dipping in a jacuzzi,

Girl we’ll make this life last

As long as we need

                         to enjoy ourselves

                                    and be free.

You and Me,

         ya see…we’re kinda in Love,

             And we’ll run this life through

Until our story is done.

But don’t fret my dear,

When that time comes,

Because we’ll have lived without fear,

And say at the end,

             We had fun,

And loved each other

For as long as anyone could remember…

                                                                and then some.

Heart beating fast;

Breathes leaving rapidly;

Thoughts racing;

Hands Trembling—

My instincts are reacting

To the moments we’re living

With you over there,

And Me right here.

I’m not under fire,

And these aren’t bullets

tearing through me,

But Baby, you’re ambushing

My feelings—my ****** instincts—

And it’s not even your fault.

I can’t help that my conscience,

nor my awareness of our world,

Isn’t my most attractive quality,

But I just want to know you’re safe, Honey;

I just want to keep you safe, Darling.

It’s my job to see every angle,

And I’ve been trained to see Danger’s

Cold, Unexpected Grasp.

But, above all these uncertainties

And protective feelings,

I trust how smart you are,

And I know you’ll stay out of harm’s way.

But I’ll keep praying…just as I always do.

Swelling up deep Within,

It is the Song of Generations

passing to Present

from Past presents.

Swimming through the maze

of Life’s blood

                         and Pleasant longings.

Let us be equal

              in body and ambition.

Long gone; Loneliness.

Letters Lost in Latitudes.

Let Life Love thee Lord.

Lastly Levitate Levels

of Learned Lengths and your Langour.

I can make you laugh,

And I can sing out loud;

       I can make you feel like a bird

       Floating in the summer Sun.

I can hold your hand,

And I can take you far;

       We can see the whole wide world

       That we only thought existed on postcards.

I can breathe you in,

But I won’t breathe you out;

       You’re as intoxicating

       As the smell of an ocean breeze.

I can kiss your lips,

And I can stare into your eyes;

       I don’t really mind

       Being lost in them tonight.

I can show you my heart,

If you’d only give me yours;

        Let’s just have fun

        While we see what God has in store for us.

I’ll wrap my arm around you,

And you’ll lean your head on me;

        We can fade away

        To the sounds of our favorite songs.

I can dream of you,

And know you’ll always be with me;

      Honey, I guess that’s all I’ll ever really need.

I’ll sit next to you,

And you’ll sit next to me;

       We’ll leave this world in the dust,

       While we’re soaring through the stars.

Baby,

           Lovely Lady,

Won’t you take this ride with me?

Long Live Sanity

Wrought Through Ale

And Tennessee Whiskey.

I just want to hear those words,
            roll off your tongue,
     push through your lips,
and plant their roots in my heart.
I just want your hand,
          to be tucked away in mine,
       while the world keeps spinning,
                  around us.
I just want your lips,
     to make contact with mine.
I just want,
I just want to,
I just want to know,
that You
                    Love Me.

The trees seem to come to life

As the the wind blows through their branches

                                                    helping them to dance;

giving them the courage to sway

                                          in this sunset.

The world is just a little town

That gets ready for bed

As the sun goes down

And I’m stuck here in this pasture

Looking for my clouds

Through the veil of darkness.

            There’s a scent that catches my attention,

But it’s gone before I can mention

                                                                      what it reminds me of.

The sound of crickets comes from all around,

      and I hear some coyotes moving further south,

But I’m just sitting here in the bed of this pickup

                         letting my thoughts get mixed up

in the world that surrounds me.

                It’s calming to see nature

                in its natural environment,

and it’s interesting to see

the world through these eyes,

                                               because these eyes aren’t anything like yours.

Though I do often wonder

What it is that your eyes see

As they hold my gaze

And stare back into me.

The first few rays of the sun,

         greet me as I rise with the dawn.

I crawl out of bed

                    and put on my fatigues,

wishing I could get more sleep.

     I look at you curled up

     under the warm covers on the bed,

            and wish last night had never come to an end.

Yet,

        I have to leave you now,

                   alone under those covers.

I walk over to your side before I leave,

   and slowly,

                                             silently

   plant a kiss on your cheek.

You barely crack open your eyes,

            flash a sleepy smile up at me,

     wrap your arms around my neck,

                and say “good morning, baby.”

I sit there,

      staring into your eyes,

      wishing I could stay just five minutes more.

Finally I stand up,

               lean over

and give you one last kiss,

        placing my lips next to your ear,

and softly whisper, “I love you, dear.”

You just smile,

   and look back at me,

   saying “I love you too, baby.”

I walk to the door,

      give you one last smile,

and leave for the world outside of

                         our happy, little life.

As I go about my day,

not everything will go my way.

Some things will seem unbearable,

        while others extremely annoying.

Yet,

     you’re the only thing on my mind,

and I’ll smile as I endure the stresses of

                         my happy, little life.

Ripped to shreds;

I just want to tear it all to pieces.

Get lost in a lustful rage

        that consumes the mind,

   and transforms the face into something more ominous.

Give me a sword,

     so I can swing away.

Give me a fist,

     so I can punch out the pain.

                             I’m just ready for a new day…

                      I’m just ready for a chance to breathe.