Let's see here, you are as  sweet as a vidalia onion,
as pretty as that bass down in Waldrop Creek,( been meaning to catch
him for awhile, I bet he's at least eight to nine pounds or..)
sorry, where was I ? Yes you are so pretty.
You are smooth as Mr Sims backyard whiskey and I might
add just as hard to control.
Your hair smells like a thousand tea ivory , so silky to hold.
You make me get all funny ******* inside, kind of
like that time they all dared me to jump from Hickory Knoll
into the water, what was I thinking? Jumped anyways.
Aint saying I can tell you just like that Shakepearing fellow
just how I feel,
but I sure would have you if you will have me!

Got her little fingers in my ear
or her toes digging into my back.
Got me sleeping on the edge of my bed
when we take a nap.
For such a tiny thing, she takes up most of my bed,
stretched out from end to end, toes to head.
So that gives me plenty of time , sit there while she sleeps
and look at this little piece of Heaven that the Good Lord sent to me.
Now I'm not saying that all of this has been an easy road
but I would'nt  trade these moments for a lighter load.
So I cover myself back up with whats left of the warning label from the spread,
feel her snuggle up beside me and I kiss her little head.
My piece of Heaven.

We cannot all be the finger on a tigger,
a silent team in the night,
unknown heros correcting a wrong
with a long awaited right.
We have our place.
We can be the strength behind the trigger,
the pull of full support,
the welcome mat for those unknown heros,
a team that comes back one man short.
No, not all can be the messenger,
not all can bring the sting
but all can band together and let Freedom finally ring!

My doors are always  open, they swing both ways.
You can come in and be welcomed, leave just the same.
There is always some food in the frig,
the cabinet is usually  stocked.
You won't find anything fancy but if you're hungry, it will hit the spot.
There are two stacks of fire wood, in case you're here when it's cold.
One is for a quick fire, the other for all night long.
Upstairs is the extra bed, clean towels too , on shelves,
extra razor in the drawer, case you need to shave yourself.
Now the beer is in the bottom drawer of the frig out in the shop,
yes there is a bottle behind the toolbox, case you needing a shot.
I really only got a few rules , most folks have heard before.
Take what you need,  leave what aint yours.
Help with the chores if you get a chance,
clean up behind yourself.
When the time comes at you again, help those that caint help themselves. Welcome.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zB_oZAMldo&feature;=share     This a poem I had written that with the help of a good friend, I feel, has given a new look  and respect to those who have served. Take a knee.

The World looks different at  60 feet,
standing on the Huey skids, gritting my teeth.
Birds coming in fast and smoke rising slow,
drop into the tall grass not knowing which way to go.
Ears trying to hear and eyes not believing,
mortars and ******, men screaming and bleeding.
Yes the World looks different at 60 feet,
now hovering above me  where I'd rather be.
It's been  years now , the sights and sounds have gone to fade,
still look to the skies when I hear those blades.
Men faced walls of steel in that tall ****** grass,
at 60 feet my Brothers I raise this glass.
Gone but not forgotten.

We've done the battle of the toys, cleaned up the crayolla mess,
Mawmaw won't see the artwork on the wall and that high heel won't be missed.
The dog has finally setttled down, the baby doll dress was a close fit,
it's time to run the bubble bath and try a night of rest.
Well half a bottle of supper bubbles and four soaked toilet rolls,
we finally get the  nightgown and powder on the nose.
There she is , so peaceful now,  a little angel
don't you think?
Now how did my car key keys end up in the bathroom sink?

There is a beautiful woman at the end of the bar,
the kind you see riding in a flashy car.
Not in here, in this smokey atmosphere.
She is playing with drink and a nervous smile,
look closer and you see she has been crying for awhile.
Angel flying too close to the ground.
Her wings have let her down.

chorus; But somewhere out there  someone is mad at her,
or she is ****** at the whole **** World....
nothing is as it seems,
bar room angels are few and far in
between.
Made for fools like me...nothing is as it seems.

She is the kind of woman that will get your guard down.
You will fall so easy, happy with what you have found..
nothing is as it seems, yes there are many fools like me.

Chorus:

So your  feet take you closer to her
but your heart stops you, best beware,
we have been her before,
never again we swore.
Cause somewhere out there someone is mad at her,
they fell for her charm now their feelings are hurt,
nothing is as it seems.
Plenty of fools like me.
Nothing is as it seems.
The fool would'nt be me.

So a journey, or a walk about, kept me off these pages, time not my closest friend.
I struggled with my task at hand,  worried that I would fail in the end.
Mercy has a gentle touch, her whispers fall on true ears,
she helped me with my new load, she brought light to my fears.
Childish laughter now crys replace,
rattling pots and things out of place.
Being a Grandparent ,with a responsibilty to uphold,
without this joy and laughter,  the burden would be a load.
I am a different poet, some may fine,
not all punctuations or phrases in line.
Take time to put away your 'P' and 'Q's,
you may fine a line or two that reflects or amuse.
Yes, life is a journey, this I have said,
wrote a book about it, on every page.
So, I am back, check up on some friends,
read what they have and see where they have been.
If you are new here and stumble on me,
I hope you enjoy what I got to read.

I did not see my parents in the bleachers, the night of the game.
How  lack luster was the joy when I finally got of the bench,
scored with the winning play.
I did not see the Marksman who had me in his sights.
I did not get to see the medic who never left my side.......
I did not see you.
I did not get to see the family who holds hands and prays,
then sits around a dinner table with smiles and laughter on their face.
I did not see you.
I did not see the dark clouds gathering in the West.
I did not see the warning in the inbound text.
Some say you can hear a freight train way before you see the light.
I say there are some things we will never see and still be alright.
I did not see you............

Well Mom came home covered in mud and all  in a fuss,
told Dad she's tired of  bouncing down all those ruts.
Now one thing is true around our house,
you better get busy to calm that woman down!
So Dad had a plan , Jack of All Trades,
he went about making a home made grade.
Took three railroad ties and then added a blade,
hooked it to the tractor and thought he had it made.
Well it seems ,Master of None, that blade just bounced
and nothing was geting done.
Here is where the plan really went wild,
he had all of us kids sit on it for a ride.
That road has a mind of its own
and when it saw this well, it was on!
Dad pulled the whole crew down the road just a bit
and that's when the road said this is it!
We snagged on a rock with that home made blade
and all of us kids went sailing, tail over head!
Wasn't a spot on us that wasn't black or blue,
covered in mud and a few lost shoes.
Needless  to say when Mom  saw all of us,
well that woman let out one hell of a fuss!
We all acted like we couldn't hear,
but even the neighbors got it loud and clear.
So that was the day the score came to a close,
zero for the Dad and one for that old dirt road!

Oh don't go deep into my waters baby,
for I run cold  under neath,
Stay close to your life line baby,
don't go where you caint see.
For I can be refreshing to you baby,
or sweep you out to sea.
No, No, don't go dredging in my dark waters, baby,
got no control over what you will see.
If you let the foolish side of you take over,baby,
you not going to like what you find in me.
I'm like the ocean waters, oh so much uncontrolled energy,
I can give so much to you baby,
just got to know there is no controlling me,
I'm not in charge of my dark waters baby,
so you'd be a fool to  not believe........
Don't go deep into my waters..........Baby.

Riding in my truck with the windows rolled down,
finally got a chance to get out of town.
Got bills caught up and still have a paycheck,
got two days off before the job wants me back.
Summer sun feeling friendly on my face,
everyones showing off the pounds they've erased.
Girls are getting hotter and guys trying to be cool,
seems like everyones posing at the pools.
Me , I aint in to all that,
feeling comfortable in my pulled out shirt and old straw hat,
no need to **** in my stomach no more,
I'll take a second trip to the buffet table for sure.
In an old folding chair, near the water, where you'll find me,
pretty sure I'll be smiling  with a cup of coke and Jim Beam.
Friendly winds blowing my way,
half way through a two day stay.
Ahhhhh!

You were more then just a friend,
my supporter to the end.
I can still see your smile
in the memories you've left behind.
Always the first to laugh,
saved your tears to the last,
a shoulder to lean on in the worse of times.
We bowled through this life  with smiles,
shoulder to shoulder, ground covering strides,
I am going to feel your absence for quite a while.
You were a friend,
right down to the end,
and I am not in need to ever say goodbeye,
just see ya, see ya on the otherside.

Well come on in and stay awhile,
got some ice tea, know your throats probably dry.
With all this weather , kind of been sitting around,
just feeding my face and putting on pounds.
So tonight I figured we'd better go light,
cook a little different and start eating ' right.'
So I've got me some Romaine lettuce washed in the pan,
got some  rice in the cooker and a can of light spam.
We going to pan roast the spam in a little sesame oil
and then serve it in this lettuce and rice  like a summer roll.
Course you can get as fancy as them chefs on TV,
but for now , well this is good enough for me.
Gonna join me?

It's the last few hours..
the  seats and trays put up..
Most of the passengers are starting to wake up..
somewhere down there, thousand feet below...
waiting for me....home.
Asphalt drive ways, no IED's..
warm hugs from friends..
no enemy...
Home...
Please wait till we have reached our destination...
palms sweating now..feel a hesitation..
So lucky for me... a tear fills my eye..
not all of us got the chance to be on this flight...
Home......

They have fought for God and Country,  far away from their home.
Now these heroes are behind on morgage loans.
Slept in a six foot shelter, lives on the line,
coming home to nothing, don't rest easy on my mind.
Wish I had enough acres to set them up right here.
Know they know how to build and get them trees cleared.
Kind of like a city where all of of those who gave,
can rebuild their lives and misery be saved.
I know that there are reasons and situations extremes,
the kind of equation that ruins hopes and dreams.
Just doesn't fit me right to see these women and men,
to come back from the gates of Hell and see their world closing in.

Awareness is the seed to a solution.

I have not done what he has done,
I know where he has been.
He has not been where I have gone,
yet knows the things I did.
I am my Fathers Son.
He tried to shield me from this path,
I wanted to follow his.
He never told anyone ,
I wanted to hear all of it.
I am my Fathers Son.
Together we now see each other,
the shroud has been lowered down.
The things that needed doing then,
still need doing now.
I grear up as he did then,
I am my Fathers Son.

I am not the one..who chambered the final round.
Not the Pathfinder, in the smoke who called the choppers
that lifted the dead and wounded off the ground.
I am not the Chaplain who holds the hand of a dying young man,
struggling hard with his belief.
Not the nurse with ****** hands,
eighteen hours with no relief.
I am not the young widow, now with two children ,
feeling left behind,
not the biker who stands guard in a patriotic flag line.
Not the Sargeant, who with respect, present the final flag,
not the Officer, with wet eyes, collecting the causality dog tags.......
           But I could be!

Standing on this porch I plead with the Wind.
Asking to blow you back to me again
but all I see is your fading tail lights.
The Wind is blowing through the hole in my heart,
echoes of cruel words said in the heat of the dark,
there is no way of this  coming to any good.
I'm standing here wishing that it would.
My pleads to  the Wind seemed unheard,
so I asked  the Rain a favor from her,
to wash this pain from my eyes,
but the Wind had already  tried.
I'm left  with memories of faded tail lights.
Standing on this porch on this rainy night,
the Wind blowing around everything in sight,
still no sign of you.
Still no sign of you.
Somewhere in a place unknown,
you're there and  you want to come home.
Ask the Wind what should you do.
There is someone still standing , waiting for you.

We walked through these hills of youth, together you and me.
We chased us some pretty girls , had some tight times in between.
We answered the calling and left these muddy roads,
now Iam the one standing here, the one who made it back home.
You were always the faster one, the one with all the luck.
You could wear a white T shirt, come out clean ,even when mud got slung.
They say you where their rod of steal, never would try to bend,
you went the way  you wanted to, right down to the end.
So Brother, here I stand,  in the middle of this dirt road.
A shot of this Jim Beam will wash the hurt down my throat.
I hope you taste   your shot and give that crazy smile....
go in peace my Brother, see you on the other side. Love you man.

Lately I've been fighting back the urge for crying,
really don't know what's wrong with me.
Guess I've lost the grip on my denying
that the dark pain would never be seen.
Doors have opened where the ghosts all were hiding,
got no more fight left in me.
No strength left to keep my face smiling,
time to face cold reality.
Lately.........feel the urge for crying.....
really , I know what's wrong with me.

Yep, there are folks who would roll an eye or two,
guess they know I've missed  my time in the pews.
Know for sure  my dollar aint in the Deacons hat,
course  they don't know that Me and Him, well we go way back.
See I m not going to wait for that special day,
I can drop to my knees before Sunday.
Let me tell you a thing or two,
some times where I pray, well they aint got any pews.
Yes my dollar  aint sitting in  a passed around plate,
cause it's in the helmet to make sure them folks ate.
Now I don't get all bent about the things upon high,
but I just wanted to clear things up before you roll your eyes.
I may not get those fancy wings,
but we go way back, me and Him.

It's been a year and friends come and go,
my wish to all is that  with the snow,
a new beginning with wishes clear...
have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I have enjoyed the friends met here on Hello, wish to meet more and continue the Journey.

Me and couple of my buddies tailgate of our trucks,
sipping moonshine from coffee cups.
Swatting at mosquitos and telling lies,
getting further from the truth with every sip of the Shine.
Dont be a stranger when you pull up,
yonder is the jug and some extra cups.
Now some  folk cannot handle the sip then  the bite,
leaves more for others, quite all right.
Here comes another stretch of the truth,
now keep on passing the jug once you're through.

It has been some time since I've thought of you,
this Mothers Day I'll give credit where credit is due,
want to thank you for allowing me my first breath.
I know I took a lot away from you,
your dream, freedom and your youth,
you reminded me of that in your own way.
I was seventeen when I left home,
about as long as you've been gone,
no one to give this Mothers Day card to.
I wonder if you were still around,
how you would feel the way I turned out,
would you give credit to where credit is due.
No one to give this Mothers Day card to
but I'll still give credit to where credit is due.

The scene of the accident, folks all standing around.
Everybody's cell phone out , must text this now.
Post this on Facebook, got to Tweet my friends.
Someone is reading this text while driving
and BANG...it starts all over again!
Couples don't gaze into each others eyes
while in a restaurant  no they are texting with one hand, what the hell is wrong?
For a world that objects to invasion of their privacy,
like the security check for a plane seat,
Yet we see more of them  then need to see
every time they Tweet!

Your arms reach out for me, still unsure of the touch.
Your eyes search mine for confirmation,
could there  be  love this much.
Every day of your being has made it harder to be apart.
Not one to fall so easily yet I have surrendered to you my heart.
I make no false predictions, no blind eye to what lays beyond
I promise only my committment to be beside you until you say Be gone.
My strength will be your vessel. My love your guiding star.
My patience there beside you.My wisdom to  to steer from wrong.
Again your arms reach out to hold me, this time I  guide them in.
It is a new found feeling,  Love..... let the new journey begin.



I dedicate this poem to my new granddaughter  Sophie. Sep 24 2010.

Ever try and find something, something really needed?
Find **** near everything else, except what your seeking.
I needed to find a letter ,  all legal and all,
I have found  enough other things to start my own mall.
There's that old collector *******, I could have sworn was taken by my son,
I'll have to apologies to him, I got that one all wrong.
Found the deed to the land, I had to go and file a new,
hell who knows what I'll find , mabey a dollar or too. Na.
Found the long lost pacifier, well it was really hid,
man  it took along time for Brande to get over it.
I should show it to her now and see if there's still a connect,
ok , mabey not  I know how touchy pregnate women get! Smile
So finally I find the letter, man  I thought was lost.
So I'll try and see the appoinment man , hope  this letter was all.
Smile

Unanswered questions, untold truth,
so typical when dealing with fools.
Not my truck that you got in to,
no chance of daylight between him and you.
Not my truck....
Not my truck with the windows smoked up,
Nope, .........not my truck.
Heard the wreck scene  had alot of blood....
heard they also found drugs...
nope not my truck....
No tears for the fool...
now who could that be?
....Him...you.... me?......
Nope, not my truck.

They called him up to the main office, told him Friday was his last day,
he came back down to the shop, started puting his things away.
Took down all them old posters, been there since 84.
Hard to believe this day had come, not excited anymore.
Got the call to the main office, I wondered now what again?!
called me on the carpet, said I'd be replacing him.
Stood there in amazement, just couldn't get it to sink in.
I'm replacing my teacher, boss,......my friend.
Times we used to talk about how many years left to this day.
Sleep in with no alarm clock, fish the day away.
Finally buy that Harley or mabey take that cruise.
Somehow it's not like the dream when you finally get the news.
I walked him to his truck and found no words to say,
seems  kind of odd, we used to talk all **** day.
So I shook his hand and gave him a hug,
sent him on his way. Walked back into the shop,
it now seems so strange.
Watched him from the open doors disappear in a cloud of dust.
One mans journey ended here today, one is about to start.

Ti's a sad thing when the mind closes down,
that last trick on our life as Death  starts his prowl.
Leaves the body with no warming thoughts,
memories of life lived full of joy and love.
Or perhapes it is not such a tragedy,
a way  compassion joins peace of mind in company.
Yet , here the living still find it a pain,
looking in the eyes of love , never to recall again.

On the table , over there by the woven chair,
a box of prize possesions still line up there.
Left unattended, as if in a rush...
something is now missing...something he used to touch.

Let us flip the page of time, perhapes a few days back.
Count the items that were in the box, perhapes something
is a lack.
A ball of string, so carefully rolled, a coin with faded date.
A photo of a lovely girl and a flag of the United States.
A ring  and then a whisp of hair, human one would hope
and then a little soldier of tin , the hero of the show.
This tin soldier had seen the world, in the hands of the holder.
Seen him slip and fall, civilian and a soldier.
Listens to him as he thinks. Stands by as he cried.
Looked away when words were cursed, felt warm when he saw him smile.
The night was all as usual, the holder had been gone for a few days.
He entered ,sat down at the chair, all seemed normal one would say.
First came out the flag, quite moments would follow that.
Then the photo, ring and hair, normally the holder would sit back.
This time the holder knelt by the fire and the tin soldier strained to see,
the holder cried more then usual, the tin soldier wondered what could it be.
Then came a string of curses and a rush of air,
the tin soldier was caught up in the moment, quite unprepared.
As he layed to close to the flames, he felt his time draw near.....
the final moments as he left he could see the holder clear......

So now the room is empty. The table left untouched.
The holder left and never returned, he had lost all so much.
Tin soldiers they say are a dime a dozen, funny, kind of like us.
It's how we are lined up for the play, what we see or touch... the tin man melts away...we return to dust.

Oh Sister of the Lake, quench this fire that rages through my veins!
Brother Wind  please dry these tears that come from the pain.
My soul is on fire  and I see no relieve in sight,
Mother Earth please give me a place to hide.
I have curled  up in the arms of Cousin tree,
told him of my fears and what in my dreams I see.
Nephew Robin  listened and tried  his best to calm,
yet  as I closed my eyes the fire raged on.
Oh Sister of the Lake, is there help here for me?
Let me take a breath and lay here in your arms,
perhapes with your cooling touch , perhapes the flame will be gone.

Dedicated to 'Big John' 1954-2002


It's time to prep for the nights show,
the band is already unloading at the back door.
Got to brief the new guy and rewalk the floor,
let too many in here the night before.
Use cardboard and tape to protect the ribs.
Shin guards in place  for all those low hits.
Take off the jewlery and tie back the hair,
leave nothing for them to grab when you step out there.
Drink lots of water, swallow a pain pill...
it's show time for a bouncer they say is over the hill.
Crowds looking good for a Saturday night.
Plenty of women, yet somebody will fight.
Seems  when not enough space and too much *****,
messes up the calculation of one and one equals two!
Got two female bouncers that are a special class act.
They know how to work it and come in real fast.
Big John gives me the nod and it time to open the doors.
Lets Rock and Roll baby we are here until four!




* Big John was a bouncer that took me under his wing ( a huge wing) taught me to be polite yet forcefull. 99% of folks just come to have a good time.It's that 1% that will try to ruin it.That's where we come in.

Yes Spring has come to the land,
Mother Nature has shed her coat,
time to get off the couch and do what matters most. Live and have fun!
So I am out catching up on the chores and second duty, granddaughter watch,
prune here, rake there, now where has that little tike gone?
Perhapes if I give these little hands something to occupy,
why the best thing is a little water, yes that will bring a smile.
So here is the battle ground as  the scene unfolds.
She has a little pail, I have the garden hose.
Her duty, quite simple,place some water on the plants,
end result however, water on PawPaw's pants!
So only to even the score, mind you no harm intended,
was to give the little tike a squirt and the battle would have ended.
Oh no, not today! This little tink has got some guts!
Why with every squirt I give that girl, I get a pail of slosh!
So of course, being the elder here and quite mature I say,
I give that girl her monies worth and let out a real good spray!
Soon the chores are all forgotten and the plants need water no more,
end of the day I can say she may have even tied the score!
Wow how much water do these pampers hold?!

http://authspot.com/poetry/newborn-let-the-journey-begin/

Children ask the most funny things
and you better give the answer a think,
you're sure to hear it more then twice.
Said yes there were plenty of times
when being scared was on the line,
I can recall a time or two.
There was the time ,way back before you,
I was scared of my old, dark room
but I had to learn to sleep there by myself.
The time your Aunt Jo fell out of that tree,
I was so scared I got down on my knees,
asked the Good Lord to help her heal.
The time I was sent to do somethings
the good folks here did'nt know where I went,
till they all read about it and saw it on the news.
Course I was scared when I Asked your MawMaw
for her hand,
did'nt know if she would take a man
like your PawPaw was back then.
Remember how my hands all shook,
the day they brought your Mama in the room,
so tiny and full of lifes demands.
Yes, Little Tink, I've been scared a time or two.
I was beyond scared when you came along,
it had been all so long,
since we had a little tike like you in the house.
So I guess when I talk to to you of being scared,
well, PawPaw knows what he's talking about.

Find that which gives you peace...
hold it in your reserve.....
find it to give you strength
when all seems to unnerve.
With out the peace that calms the soul..
the weight of the world seems a unbearable load.
Call upon the reserve you have , tucked away...
let peace come to you, the storm at bay.
We create our own Hell sometimes it seems...
yet healing can come with a little peace.

She's two hours in a three day no sleep,
tired, hungry, on dangerous streets.
Rubbed raw in places she doesn't bare,
would give half her paycheck for a chance to wash her hair.
   She keeps moving, just like the rest of her patrol,
finding comfort in thinking  that things will get better when she gets back home.
....... She's two hours in a three day no sleep,
tired, hungry, nothing left to eat.
She keeps moving, one more place to check,
trying hard to remember the direction to a place for homeless vets.
  Back in the zone , something went wrong,
she has a hard time remembering, getting along.
Things were suppose to have gotten so much better.....
once she got home.

Would have been too easy to just walk away,
let the words of hate just fade,
live for another day....
but there was pride in motion.
So here is where the tears come from,
look at what cannot be undone,
lost  daughters and sons....
because of pride in motion.
The tribes people had the right words to say,
let the dark horse ride away,
sleep away any shame....
but there was too much pride in motion.
There will many more songs on tongues,
words of what was done....
but we will never learn to stop pride in motion.
So here is where we will lay,
we will never learn to walk away,
let the dark horse  see the other side of day....
let pride stay in motion...............

http://authspot.com/short-stories/and-so-it-came-to-pass/

And the Grass People all rejoiced,
the widowed Grasshopper King had made a choice,
finally  fell in love with the Wood Crickett Queen.
Since she too was a widowed soul,
this union held for a future strong,
a union of the Grass People and the Wooded Wings.
A feast was held to spread the news,
creatures of all walk and wings  shared magical tunes,
the whole Valley seemed more alive with this spread of joy.
So now when ever you sit out on the porch swing,
relaxing, sipping on a cold drink...
listen and you may even hear....
the Wood Crickett saying...good night my dear.

Bathing... she was waist deep in the river,
body glistening in the morning sun.
A sharp contrast to our eyes,
considering the hell we just came from.
The Lt became a West Point gentelman,
Pvt.Pete's face turned a brighter shade of red,
I gave the order to ground rucks and kindly turn our heads.
I walked up to the rivers edge and with broken words and sign,
tried my best to assure  this bathing beauty, that every thing was fine.
Seems though it was us more put out then her,
she gave us all a smile.
air dried her long black hair , then casualy walked by.
She disappeared into the same jungle we had been in for days,
gave one last look back and gave us all a wave.
Now the men all had been smoked, rucks had took their toll
but there was not a single grip when i gave the order to hit the road.

She aint the pretties, old two tick, floppy ear hound,
she is a keeper though, best friend I ever found.
Now her breath can curl your eyebrows,
her **** fertilized my yard,
and if a thief gives her a treat, well, she forgets what to guard.
Now she aint no bigger then an average possum
but let me tell you what,
that girl can be the biggest bed hog, bet you a two dollars to one.
I reckon though she's a keeper, I see it in her eyes,
caint really see her winking but they're saying" best friends, you and I."

I had a vision. My people call it a 'Hectia'.

I wade into a moonlit river, the current slowly passes by,
it carries small , musical shimmers..
black and white.....
like an unfinished song....
snapshots of my life.
I am calm. Continue into the current,
slowly being surrounded by the shimmer of black and white.
I become one with their song...
I move with the current...
soon the river and I move on...
the picture is complete.
It is a vision, now it must be understood.

* Some people spend their entire life, wanting more, searching, demanding, feeling left out or not fit in.
Find your place, face the wind and feel its refreshness, not cursing its direction. In order to run with the fastest deer one must first know how to stand .

This is a melody in my head...want to hear it?

If we could work it out...there is no need to shout..
we are both really saying the same thing.
You dont believe...that what  is here is real..
you still say that your better of without.
I just cannot believe, after all you seen of me,
that you still stand there with your doubt.
Ok , we wont work it out..you slammed the door and went out...
another night with me here with my head.
Voices ringing on, mocking all the wrongs, taunting me to stay here
like your fool.
Fool, left all alone, wondering why I go on, just let it go and try
to find a happy end.
Yes , to be happy once again,
laughing with my friends,
being the kind of fool that I can really  get into.
Dancing on the floor, let my engines roar,
laughing in to the on coming wind.
....just a melody I had in my head. Want to hear it again?

I sit..... my face melts into my coffee cup....
self pity demons raise  up from the tablecloth
and slam my head on the table top..again..and again.
My heart kicks at the chestwalls that keep it from its freedom.
I am out of here it screams!
Why am I still just siting here?
A whisp of freedom promise is still ringing in my head....
wonderful words she had said.
Slam..slam , the demons smash my head on the table top.
Are you done yet? Are you still siting here?
We can do this all day. Move, say something!
Self pity is not your path...your the mover, the motivator...
the one who always has the right answers to someone elses happiness.
Why not you this time?
The heart quits kicking at my chestwalls..either it is tired or it feels me
mulling over the questions.....perhaps a chance, perhapes one more go around .
I see images in my coffee cup of couples holding hands, young and old alike....so happy, so together, so....in love?
Still other images emerge...families still doing things together... camping, fishing, movies...so real...so like I planned it....
slam! Slam!   The demons are not letting up......Ok , I know what they want.....but first I need a fresh cup of coffee, this one has too many memories  floating around in it.
Perhapes I should make that call, write that letter....just go.

Growing up too  fast and worry about the  dance she missed.
The World  seems so wrong when a teenager has a kid.
The social circle seems to pass her by,
hear her  on the cell phone as she starts to cry.
Want to hold her, she is still so much a child.
Reasure her that life has not passed her by.
Let her know the worth of the treasure she hold.
Find more comfort in her child then any friends she could ever own.
Her heart  may skip a beat ,
some day it will be worth the pain  from the child she keeps.
I know right now she has got the teenager blues,
some day  she will be able to get through the grey and see the blue.
Right now I just hold them  both , mother and child.
Daughter and grand daughter, just rest and relax, close your eyes.
My heart skips a beat.

So many things I want to show her in my life.
So many places  she hasn't seen.
All the things I have taken as normal in my time.
These places for her are an odyssey.
Foods from the far and exotic lands,
Things folks now see on TV.
I have eaten these as normal  day of life,
she wants to to really see.
So many years now I have put pennies in this jar.
The jar that should  bring this to a reality.
So with this dollar I fold a little note.
"Be sure to see for for me."
Chase that lobster with no claws
right across the ocean floor.
eat civichi with the natives at night.
Drink *** and coconut from the  core.
Watch the sting rays do their mating dance,
let the howler monkeys make you laugh.
Take each step as I have done before.
Make each memory last."