the coast the calling coast
east west
both have the most to boast
the waves my audience
applauding
and roaring endlessly roaring
the sand between
my toes and fingers
creeping up the back of my neck
hot warm cold
as i slide my feet deeper in
the salty air smells to me
of freshness
of bliss
of decay
of wasted hours not wasted if wasted

i made a bet with myself
nobody won
but i lost
double or nothing i say to me
double or nothing it is, i reply
i won
again

they who are important
say write every day
so they say
i did not write yesterday
earth below did not
split open and swallow me
sky did not
rain black acid
i just feel terrible
tired
nothing done out of ordinary
only
nothing written
this will not be the end
keep common cursed words
flowing pouring
cease not a source of joy
pen massaging paper
messages from mind
were words to rest
rust
so they say
write every day
they who are important

You must not leave so soon
my friend, I say, my friend
for there are things we have yet to do
But I must be gone by days end
my friend, my dearest friend
to never return again
I will yet hope for your return
my friend, i say, my friend
for times with you in my mind are burned
We shall see what future holds
my friend, my dearest friend
till then soak in the days of old
What is the reason for your parting
my friend, i say, my friend
is the ambition in your nature starting
I am sick of swimming in this soulless grease
my friend, my dearest friend
i simply seek a soul at peace

or … just hop. skip. jump.
hit walls. go thump.
fight those frightening things at night.
go bump.
plant seeds. turn leaf.
get cut down.
go stump.

a test:
a squinting smiling blue tie devil
or
a talking head in a red dress

telling us
to be impressed
we’re not broke, we’re blessed
fortunate, not fortuneless
anywhere we are
we are a welcome guest
we arent repressed
we arent oppressed
we arent depressed
we sure as **** arent stressed
the ****** machine is at rest
when its really working at its best
how dare we stand and protest
though there be a target on our chest
liberty and justice for all
save those we detest

you may think this a jest
but do second guess

the amiable, the iritable,
the inflexible, the concedable,
we the people in recess

we made this mess

so i’ve one simple request:
progress
or be a whole lot less

Gathering and rising as a wild cyclone
You swept me the furthest away.
Lifting me to an unending unknown,
I forget who I am each day.

Because of you this tempest awoke
Viciously spinning from the very beginning.
A sprinkle of words when we first spoke
Swiftly ascended into sinning.

And as a storm must weaken and break
So, too, this torrid seduction.
For if this spiral I continue to take
Will force me to my destruction.

But **** the sun and the sky of blue.
**** this calm. I want only you.

In the faded light
I hear the wands light wrap:
Tap Tap Tap
to the far left,
and to the right,
the orchestra to surround.
Strings tight, tuned just right
poised to recite
with all their might
some mad composer's plight.
But, frozen in this moment of incite,
three clowns among the crowd
colorfully crowd my sight.
One looks on, one looks down,
one seems enticed by the sound.
Why? Whether a part of the night
or just happened to be around.
Then, as the music takes flight,
there is a fierce feeling I cannot fight
that, despite
my buffoonish frown,
these fools, these clowns,
and I
are most alike.

aviary for a front yard
countless cardinals sparrows jays
            throughout the entire day
back and forth to and from
they dart
to see it is a work of art
this tree and then the next
has me in awe
            from the start
the fierce faint and flick
no tale, no trick
just look up
            real quick
or you'll miss it all
this mad melodic pinball
this verdant ariose device
            there is also a hawk
his game is more precise
punctual predatory
            steadily soaring
keeping his eyes peeled
for his next gory meal
any stray 'munk, mouse, or rat
that does not smell a trap
grabbed
with evil ease
then its off
            into the trees
i might need to respect
my front yard aviary

big painter’s van
               painted blue
barreling through
every minute or two
have they nothing better to do
than bother me or you

searching for something
hungry, hunting
prowling about this avenue

me thinks their purpose rotten
                ill gotten
their nature untrue

this is all a matter of opinion
perspective
               point of view

but
from where I sit and stare
way up here
               out of sight
I have seen quite a few