strained and molded midnight brain
encounter unknown cell tower overwatch
spill water catch twenty two revolver tribute
merganser interceptor ravenous soul sport
epic fail condominium
Brick island overlook star gazer Kansas revolt
lear jet appetite ebony sincere lambasted trivial
revolution
correspondent irregular depth californian intrinsic
substitution despondent calibrated ocean going
counter measure

Some say the lights that fly by my
window are cars
I say they're E.T's come from afar , navigating State Highways ,
plotting the eventual take over of Hill Country
byways
Counting every house , curiously watching the cattle ,
young colts in mock battle , a braying mule
at the Tilson's Farm , a turkey hen in feathered charms
Maybe they've discovered that dried up still on Camp Creek
Or run up on Papas liquor bottles behind the 'bee-keeps'
Checking out the jeans and bloomers on Mama's clothesline
Or drinking Uncle Preachers muscadine wine way before it's time* ..

You could find me at the window
searching frantically for a way out* ..

Four white stars in a triangular field of blue
A keepsake posted on a living room wall that forever reminds me of you* ...

Writing my diary in the church
of the forest
In deep cover , incommunicado ,
unnoticed , a heretic of mans oppressive
religions , a worshipper of bird and tree
A prayer for each grain of sand along
the field road
Receiving tranquility then releasing my burden
into windsongs* ...

A patch of earth in Kelleytown
Black from years of tending
It tested firm in my clutched hand
every Spring
It filled my boots at times , clung
to my tractor and ended up in my
pockets
It crusted ever so lightly , holding
precious water
It helped to fill the stores of Papa ,
Granmaw and my father
A true friend , a loyal companion ,
a southern crescent miracle , soil harrowed
in perfect rows , life bearing piedmont , fragrant loam*..

Skedaddle you little *******
Go find your purpose in life
somewhere else for I've no clue what it
might possibly be* ...

How did a button end up in the family
Bible , a beach postcard in Job
A few recipes plus a work photo from 1965 tucked away
somewhere in Proverbs
An obituary in Matthew
A guitar pick in Psalms
Come to think of it they're in a proper
place after all* ...

The Wild Turkey burns for a few seconds then
slips away
The mellow burnt barrel taste returns bringing
a smile to a weathered face
The sweet breath of Alabama dries the morning rain
The shots continue till the pain is slowly consumed
by thoughts of better days* ...

The rain on a cool February day is sorrowful music* ....

Staying at ground level reduces the length of the fall* ...

Albrecht Durer didn't paint houses
Rosa Parks wasn't content with her seat on the bus
And Randolph ain't playing covers for a bar full o' drunks* ...

Tis good to be moved by a song
To shed a single tear or two alone
To walk into beautiful paintings
in the shoes of it's creator
To cool ones feet in the clapping stream
for a quiet sensation
To experience tall evergreens in joyous
ovation , count the Angels within the
clouds on a morning observation
To plan a loving reply for a neighbor
Tend to a passion with sweet undying labor* ...

Roasted peanuts and 'red painted rockers'
invite good conversation and needed laughter

Stars fell upon the newborn world as hardwood behemoths arose to shed the colors of winter , under swaying motifs the cackle of morning crows grew from the center , her trestle -work cried frozen and archaic , forever unknown
She flourished beside the rails and died
And to her residents a crown of case hardened iron , tooled with misery and dubious history* ....

Worship the daystars return
The snowflakes of December
Rain swollen tributaries bound for
struggling oceans
Tall pines racked in stormy Spring
The insects of the long , hot Summer
Hardwoods beneath blue cover
Recall these blessings with the fondness
of a lover
With reverence of the likes afforded no other* ..

Woke up in a mosh pit
Swinging , reactive , faster each minute
The band was raging but their location was hidden
The 'cotton' was still blooming
My head was trippin'
Lost in my dead ride with no gas in it* ..

When the Coweta woodlands burn
The ghost of Muscogee forefathers return
Their silhouettes appear against the waning moon
Ibofanga disguised as the wind rushing to protect his 'Piedmont heirloom*' ...

Love is a beautiful scene
She is each descriptive glance
Rainbows connecting mountains
Awe inspiring waterfalls
Clear fountains , the birth of Spring
in the month of May , the embattled flowers
of the Fall , purple wire grass shimmering
o'er Hill Country smoky malls
The flavor of salt , fescue and gardenia
Afternoons along Pink Dogwood , bristling
Magnolia hallways
From wooden porches as shadows grow tall with
the music of Angus cattle in the orange , growing
nightfall* ...

Hot sassafras tea and shortbreads
Served by weathered , loving hands
Beagles introducing the postman
Water Oaks shedding their color
Dirt roads went on forever* ...

Cars wait their turn at the crossroads
The Taco Bellians stand in line
One dark cloud on a beautiful day
dances by
The chickens gather at the sound of
a bag as its opened
I'm garnering the courage to blend
with the breeze , lie beneath evergreens ,
camouflaged in sweet invisibility
Hoping* ...

A perfect time to be together
To gather and imbibe honeysuckle nectar
Walking the woodland edge in the
company of kindred spirits
Whitetail's keenly observe every action
from young pine thickets
North winds crackle dry brush , bronze
fieldrows rush through my every vessel
Dove gather along the power lines as
piedmont sun begins to settle
Tall shadows with bobwhites imploring the rise
of the moon along the terra cotta horizon

Expectations are doorways girded
with iron
Explore your passion with a free , open mind
Material wealth is environed in the chains of hearsay
and speculation
Behold , thy destination , among nations of red
and blue stars
A unique tone within the galactic concerto
Touring at allegro tempo* ...

Carolynn draws a picnic scene on a frosted window
Spring kites untethered and sailing , the hope of winter rainbows
Of curled leaves navigating blue lakes
Of afternoon snowflakes , the call of mandrakes
The mystical smoke of garden bonfires weighing heavy
o'er broomsage meadows
Of whippoorwills that announce the coming of night , the birth of new stars in sparkling January sky* ..

Yardbirds scrum over rain borne delicacies
Dad overlooks my condition in some cloudy
effigy
Water trickles like musical triangles from soaked Silver maples
Tis medicine for sadness
A breakfast of reason , my morning staple* ...

Morning clothed in sunshine
She is a friend to sit beside
A companion in my exploration
of passing thought and permanent dream
My golden hour of natural themes ,
welcome serenity as I revisit impossible
schemes* ...

I'm the little boy watching John Wayne movies
working on a Charms lollypop
I'm the five year old playing "Vietnam" with
a stick running along a creek in the back yard
I'm Neil Armstrong , Jimi Hendrix and Charles Manson
The Smothers Brothers , Dark Shadows and Captain Kangaroo
The iconic smiling face , the peace sign and the Farrah Fawcett t-shirt
Watergate , the Flintstones and Mr Ed
I'm Skylab , the men on the moon and 911
I'm Obama , Carter , Nixon and Reagan
I'm a pipe wrench working on the American Dream
A water **** passed among friends
A gung-** service member
A fifty year old mess
A Mad magazine , an ever changing book explaining taxes ,
disability and the future loss of medical insurance
I'm better left alone most days , eyes locked forward at twenty feet tending to problems such as tall grass , ***** windows , tarnished brass
A mailbox in need of paint , fire ant mounds , dead leaves scattered along the ground* ...

I am most assuredly an ex- chicken farmer , musician , 'poetician' and renowned front porch bullshitter* ..

Man is incapable of prospering
in total , unchecked freedom ...
His greed will never allow it*  ...

The snakes are in collusion with
the hyenas
Vultures have struck a deal with
the coyotes dividing the carrion
Eagles impart an heir of nobility as they
symbolically circle the sky in the prequel
to slaughter
Songbirds gather en masse and chatter , sing solos
and perform
The worms feed upon the droppings of 'the
'wronged , long after they've gone* ...

The heavy afternoon did break
Freed to weep with space to manage
To assess its damage and differentiate
friend from foe
To form a quick flanking maneuver against
betrayal then fearlessly go..

If I were a commander my perplexity
would never show
My troops would blindly follow
Eye to eye contact with the opposing leader would
ne'er break
The first move of my enemy would be their
ultimate mistake

Like a soldier a few battles are visible just as a few remain obscure
Victory and defeat appear on my sleeves ,
across my chest
My checkerboard adversaries have been
crowned , my weakness profound , my knights
lie motionless on the cold ground
I face the blackness in contempt of my god
As the evening rain
Forever planning
Forever in battle* ...

A taste of Spring in January
The trees could be tricked into early
blooms , avid gardeners hypnotized
into planting vegetables a bit soon
We've been waiting for the daffodils with baited breath
Wiping off the hummingbird feeders , cleaning
the bird bath
Cleaning up the smoker , painting the porch swing ,
sweeping off the drive , enjoying the warm nights* ...

Silver drops of rainwater released by the breeze , pecan grove orchestras , fortuitous hardwood melodies , a needed moment of serendipity
Petrichor melding with Pine
Pools of piedmont wine
Shrilling jays , a curious crow , afternoon rays
paint turned gardens with yellow and gold
Boiling gray mountains rumble away to the east
The return of solace and songbird pleasantry* ..

I was using the lakeside to gain control
of my thoughts but it was puppeteering me all along
The pond needed a rock at the bottom so
I skipped one out to the center
The shore needed a tiny depression so my boot
gladly relented
A conductor was needed to gracefully quiet
the crickets so the bullfrogs solo could be heard
This beautiful body of water wrote and performed its own
story as I studiously jotted down every word* ..

Although the Constitution is being dutifully adhered to , I still feel like a crime has taken place* ....

Night becomes the poetess of Earth
Tempted by the light of the Moon , filling blackness with
the color of her choice
Crushing the silence of ambiguity
with angelic killdeer and whippoorwill voice
Wild orchids breaking the monotony
of a winter scene , the verse of romantics , impressions leading
the hearts of men to rejoice
Reflections o'er the darkened moor
Cricket crescendos , songs of Bear creek , the belt of Orion
wavers in a midnight pond
Tis the poetess of Hill country in search of the dawn*...

The Elder Queen provided shelter from July heat
At times she nourished our bodies and filled our
souls with holiday tales and baked nutmeat
Her beauty was indescribable during the winter
snow
Her fallen cover fertilized our gardens , created warm
bedding for laying hens , filled the air during the Fall fires
Remained a constant source of beauty and security , blessed our
farm more than we'll ever know* .....

The knell of a late January breeze
The ghost of winter trapped among
the evergreens
Spirits swirl and pivot , scribble picots
on red clay floors
Tin claps time in the pre-dawn hour
Hounds bray confused in the windblown
morn
Sparrow shuffle from hardwood to rusted
field as wild geese fly into the promise of February sun* ..

I painstakingly write while getting off on the pills
But poetry ain't paying the bills
So drinking bourbon is cheap , fashionable and
forgotten
A white tablet is considered crude , deplorable and woe begotten
So now I'm high contemplating life beneath the bridge
Making a living out of some back alley can
I've been offered many a 'management' position then off I ran
*** kept the forest fire 'manageable'
The work /home thick line cruelly interchangeable as beggars work the store fronts , liquor and potato chips were on sale in
bright red font
Children waited for their parents in locked ,
still running cars
Artificial , yellow light blocked out every star
Profane laborers exit the seven o'clock bus ,
drink from brown paper bags and share their
hard day out loud
Desperation running north and south as the towns three way
intersection grinds to a halt* ..

I've found that friendships are stones along the wetted path
Some were buried beneath the weight of my unsure
steps as I moved forward
Some became resistant , causing pain
A few proved to be smooth yet treacherous
Even fewer remained stable and trustworthy

Sherry , amber shoulder length locks of hair
Passing ****** on the rail line
Beside abandoned tracks north of Ola
Sharing youth with bamboo pipes
Period hovels belonging to 'the State' collect
until a sleepy town is manifest before red
eyes , against laughter and regret tinged
with melancholia , ten seconds of concern
entangled with indifference
The crunch of gravel beneath our feet
Winter breath , *** hole lakes , dying streets
Beautiful , personal , discreet sundowns smattered with drug induced catatonia , 'Walnut guardians' and cherry trees*...

An amalgam of malleable , tensile emotion
mingled with bits of iron and steel in constant struggle
against the cold , efficient outside world

When the whispering demons of the morning come calling
When silly , robotic thespians deliver their scripted theatrics with slow motion , foggy angles of the world as rivers of window condensation and sorrow are falling                                                          ­                                                                 ­    Be watchful for songbirds are connected with the mill pond , see the dove at peace with bobwhite songs
Be assured that the wind , the rain and the hardwoods
share pain while celebrating the whim of a cold , methodical yet temporary Earth

I am a vehicle shackled to land yearning for the journey home
Through times open doors
Before windows of curiosity
At the base of galactic mountains
Within lights brilliant disclosure of love* ...

Nightfall interrupted by lightning
The call of nocturnal songsters
drowned in a sudden squall
The drummers that march into
quiet country from the west
Symbolic crash of cymbal ,
flam upon drum , tapping of the bells
The euphony of triangle pings and  
pan flutes
The boisterous return of a watchful poet's twilight muse* ...

A piece of the world made to
contemplate creation
A place to absorb the ****** light
of the heavens without reservation
Where Cherokee tears flow freely
from pink flower encrusted observations
To catch the breath of Pine bidding warm
salutation* ...

I was once a pedestrian on Fayetteville
Highway , on a midnight jaunt down a dark
byway
With the North Star to reconnoiter my
trail
Struggling to get home fast
Destined to catch hell
Puppy love reared the head of Medusa
as the band played My Sharona
My date made it hard to think -
as I primped in front of the sink
The weight of a psychotic heart was a heavy load so I made a break for the open road
Wet grass doused my white jeans , my silk shirt reflected
moon beams , a killdeer chuckled at my quandary
Yet better to be alone than sorry*...

Biding my time
As the midnight mockingbird
With wrought songs of anguish heard throughout the night
Twas he who declined audience to partake of his sorrows
With singularity disguised as melody
Passion pure* ...

A cool day stroll with your lover will quickly turn your driveway into the most beautiful location you've ever discovered* ...

Gene was flat topped , honest and old school
Not one for shootin' the bull
He woke up everyday at four in the morning off to twist gas pipe for a living
Sometimes lame , but rugged and independent , he'd say your either making money or spending it* ...