White pills for a sore shoulder
Or for pacing the house holding a psychological
boulder
Completing the circuit needed for the days
to become shorter
To make the engine run warmer
Temporarily corral a thought disorder
Get my music and poetry in some semblance
of order
To corner my physicality running ever colder
Catching the brief odor of Autumn Sugar Pines
To traipse amid the evergreen giants alone
Anything to hang on* ...

I'm watching the red lights of an airplane
One of its passengers notice the glow
of a tiny brick house with a man at the window , his thoughts
are training , his creativity sailing , his passion for
midnight poetry waning , his demons complaining
The volume of thought fading
It's really no different from all the other homes
All the other Jills and Johns , the would-be vagabonds
The starving music minstrels , we're just tag-alongs ,
trying to decipher right from wrong , standing in
the corporate soup line for our bowl to be filled
Mouths agape like baby birds , a spool of film repeating
act one of a movie , some nerd gets the girl , the milkmaid
becomes queen , a Hollywood hunk saves the world
Fly on jet airliner , may your occupants find life's pearl
Clarity in the daily whirl , the worm in the bottom of the Tequila bottle
Send them safely to their families full throttle* ...

It's noon in a postcard town
Pedestrians gather on tidy city squares
All I can do is stare
I've nothing to offer save for a song
A tough performance before a bitter throng
Most people need nothing but a beat
Like this monotonous street
Where heartless people haphazardly meet
Walking head down , focused on their feet
They've no time for meaningful lyrics
It's a sad time for music among these urban cynics* ..

Walk outside , aim that Marshal
stack in the direction of City Hall
and grind a power chord like nobody's
ever heard before , send the birds flying
for cover , rattle the windows on every
street corner
Hit the high E string at the 22nd fret
and let it feedback like the world is about to
end* ...

The tolling bell mimicry of October showers produce medicinal power
A good book with sweet rain melodies , a toasted slice of rye , a dab of fig jelly* ..

Hardwood hillsides pray for Autumn winds to convey their colors upon the Earth ..There is no greater expression of love in the world* ...

The pecan fell from the tree then rolled to a stop , it's new home was between the roots and the rocks
Twas a sheltered , one of a kind bit of nutmeat
this odd pecan , trapped between becoming a meal
or buried in leaf cover , crushed by the hoof of wild
hogs or miraculously skipped over
To lay introverted among ones peers is really no
life at all
To float aimlessly on calm waters going nowhere
or to risk the waterfall leading one to places unknown
O how I wish my parents could have been tall trees
by the creek shore* ....

Autumn days along Port wood-row
In search of the morning fiery glow of frosted moors
Recalling the doors of my very soul to the crackle -
of frozen lakeshore , the infusion of frigid visible breath
in resplendent newborn sunshine , the rhyme of windswept
Pine , the rapport of Woodpecker and calling Finch , reflections
of Carolina blue sky o'er Gods placid , mirrored waters
Home of steaming evergreen bottomland and rock bass
river dancers , November leaves sailing the script of the
Alabama western wind , the regal prance of Whitetail Deer
to the Mourning Dove euphonic call and answer* ..

The turning leaves and I are moved by
invisible , relentless forces
Setting the tone of our day without our
choice
The compassionate musician of reason unable
to locate and perform the notes necessary to complete
my morning song , my needed diddy of love , my
awareness of right from wrong* ..

Someone's heartbroken , O the pang of
love , when love reveals itself to be trickery
When confidants become mute , when
silly , adorable looks reveal their true intent
Tokens of unity become ****
Forever is better judgement foolishly spent
Return them to their rightful place ,
to lust among the wild dogs and the snakes* ...

If keeping up with the elections by reading the daily fish-wrapper qualifies you as a self proclaimed , well versed politician then ******* in your own lightbulb apparently makes you a certified electrician

A deadly task at hand , see the November broom sage conforming with the lay of the land
The smooth stones are secure in their creekside homes
Adolescent Crepe Myrtles abide in the company of elder Oaks
Every plant allotted soil and very much aware of their place
Under the ever meandering compression of man with a valuable lesson of humility and grace
Behold the wall builders , the ceiling setters , the clothed and the rambunctious
The soil breakers , the ravagers , the fire starters , the problem
solvers mingled with the war mongers
The breath of creation fueling their thirsted conflagrations
Behold "the thinkers" , destroyers and the manipulators* ..

Birds turn white in the morning light
The riddle of sunrise exposed
The unchecked infirmity of age continues on
as we slowly succumb to the cold , as we
quietly move along
Fall bush appears set afire
Silver Maples quiver in desire
Earths Lamp calls on tea stained wild grass
doused in dawn wine , in living brine

Jack-o-Lanterns and Tennessee breezes
Sweet potato cobbler , Apple cider , frosted
scenery
Sweet memories 'neath the Pumpkin Moon
Whittling sugarcane to the sounds of pure Autumn
The Coyote yodel and the Barn Owl holler* ..

A few of my relatives have become screen doors -
trying to hold back a Winter storm

To the herdsman counting his flock in the moonlight
The plowman repairing his tractor by lantern- light
The wood splitter , the fence builder , framer and rail tender
Architects of frozen December morns
Unsung engineers , freight worker and brakemen
'Twould be a privilege indeed to sup cold beer with the countries heroes , privy to stories of hardship and raw weather days endured by these American patriots
Iron tooled with steel , the churning grist mill , diesel engine roar ,
black earth turned anew , billowing steam settled over valley floors
Masters of metal , brake and die , machine and anvil
The crack of the peen long before sunrise
'Tis the bailiwick of farmer and tradesman* ..

Sorghum Fall , October blue windfelt opera
of curious Winter tapping November's hardwood door
Days of colorful wishes falling to Earth
They meet in oakwood harbors , perform
in the crystal sunrise ballet , pie pans
ring in crabapple arbors , withered corn songs
crackle exquisitely , they echo o'er hayfield terrace ,
red , brown and golden forest
Hillandale , windballad allegories , butterscotch fields
suing for frosted cover
Warm cabin firewood symphonies , cider and cinnamon
Hereford morning bawl , early wren catcalls
Oak chair and fescue pillow* ....

Evergreen soldiers at the whim of Alraus
I've had a recurrent dream of the enlisted warriors
abandoning their post , occupying the fertile grassland
in a chess type move to gain control
Free of shade , of root-bound thirst , of choking
moss gathering unchallenged in overpopulated arbors
A celebration courtesy of the Robin Knights , the Chickadee troubadours ,
the Cardinal gentlemen at the Court of Queen Chestnut
Slash , sugar , loblolly and white oak
Persimmon , hickory , honey locust and dogwood
The myrrh of gardenia , magnolia , honeysuckle and tea rose
Earthen red clay , white sand , black loam and kaolin
Grasshopper cellist , cricket flautist , a chuckling crow with a
Spanish guitar
The toad trombones , a bluebird violin solo , a mockingbird reads
a touching poem that even sways the worker ants into a brief pause
The Old Forest becomes pasture and the grassland young woodland
The dove cue the night , the katydids croon to the moon ,
the bullfrogs 'pooka-dooka' and the lovers swoon* ...

Sky seeker , tall wonder with carnation red cloak
Doomed bush vermin , cornered red oaks braced in the treetop shadow
Strolling tearful wire-grass purple meadow
Copper thicket avenues tinged in nutmeg swirl
Mellow voices from the songbird world
Faces within Sugar Pines , white mountains
in Alabama sky , the eye of God in newborn
western twilight , the breath of cool salvation ,
quickening , trembling , addressing , correcting
The door led to the heavens opened , the hall of
our galaxy exposed , the untold wealth of starlight
tending our burden with unrecognized answers ,
the meandering whirligig movements of my time continue predestined

At the chocolate milk water of Holly Hill Lake
I skipped a stone to watch the wake
The rock fell to the bottom , and so have I
I threw another that met it's demise
Continually skipping gravel in hopes of cognitions
'opposite shore prize' till all the rocks fell by the wayside

Fall afternoons are colored with black charcoal
on gray canvas with orange marmalade moons
Red tail lights divide the young night
Cool ceiling fan revolutions , artificial porch lights , well water and
tangerines , steady poetic resolve , security bulb luminosity
My religion stands ready , a plectrum , four forty tune , a chorus
has proposed marriage to its verse
Day is such a betrayer
I long for the night where I flourish* ...

Congratulations , you are among the living* !

I decided on a morning walk around Port Lake
To grab a moment , to let it soar , commit something to ink , a cool thought pursuit through the yearling pine links only to find my reflection pulling hijinks ..."Go away you ******* so I can think* !"

The Hickory's are beautiful when they're dying
Living stained glass windows are born , prosper
then they gracefully comply
Giving fractured souls a sturdy hold , a clue on
growing old , a message to live ones life colorful and bold* ...

When offered chocolate grab as much
as one hand can hold
Drink fine liquor till it's all gone
Bask in sunshine all day until it hops over the
horizon
Eat the dewberries of summer without
reservation , make room for good cheese ,
good wine and hot buttered bread on every
occasion
Sample the perfume of every rose in the garden
Take hot baths with Peppermint tea and shortbread
cookies , do it with music blaring , do it often* ...

To see the world with the eye of a photographer
To know true colors and their importance in working together , completing the page , punctuality , knowledge of shadow , the art of location , background from forefront , 'twould help all of us quite well* ..

My taste for elbow macaroni has ne'er returned and will not anytime soon because it was my only source of sustenance one-time during a particularly rough month of June* .....

A tale of woe for a jealous guitar
Desperate to mimic the angels song , the chorus of a seagull throng , the shrill of a captain Jay , the Cardinal in the first week of May , the bass notes of a bullfrog while his cohorts perfectly hum along
Compulsive Chickadees in the scuppernong bush
The buzz of blue darters in the blackberry lush
Tickle of wind bells prior to summer showers
The hammer of rain at a hundred miles per hour* ....

I rule the Principality of Randolph and no other
I stand unshackled by political thought and the misdirection of my fathers
I've no tolerance for the panicked Gen X , Y nor Z enlightened , for I
glow vividly in the darkened apparatus of my own tinkering mind as well
I hold a book of Sandburg poetry with my right hand ,
a mattock in the left , the hefty chain of truth around
my neck , a Cherokee rose in a left pocket , a revolver in the right
I am a firm believer in the barbed wire cattle fence , bone chilling
November front porch mornings with black coffee and biscuit
The call of an Iron Bell , the clear ringing notes of mournful Dove , watchful Crow and story filled Whippoorwill* ...

The sky is blue white swirl toothpaste
The afternoon sun has a glowing smile on it's face
Backcountry radiates from gold to forest
green , wind dancers cheer and ruminate over
a living , breathing scene
A butterfly is bound for points east , blackbirds
whisk the windsong dreams
Angus herds booga-lah-dooga-lah the stair step
meadow , a tickled Titmouse chirps in the October shadow

Night concertos under the starlight hush , across the squash colored valley of moonlit Indian paintbrush
Of twilight ceilings that bear a million freshly painted , Milky Way wishes
Songs of the piedmont tinder- brush , delivered by mercurial , curious midnight Thrush

The dividing line is no paycheck for two weeks ,
three nights without food , four days of worry in a dark
house , five months of one's dignity systematically stripped
down , six hours into a Winter night sleeping on the ground* ...

Your brown eyes have filled copious voids
I'm am blind before all the beauty
the earth might possess* ...

Old acquaintances die on the vine , left at times
like unpicked apples in backyard groves
Their purpose completed
Their value long since depleted  
Their help painfully unneeded* ..

Autumn views change much like the observers
A little worse , a bit better , in some ways a little sooner than later
Soft skinned , running to a fro now replaced with hard shelled , set in your ways , pre-planned afternoon walks  
Elder hardwoods finally reveal their true colors , passing the torch down to their green , full o' fire young-ins , drawing from their scabbard , fencing for all their worth , forever pushing forward while old folks like us can finally relax and learn to enjoy the forest* ...

Contacting alien life light years away is hocus pocus , scientific talent run amuck without fiscal focus , tantamount to craving nachos after the 'Taco Shack' closes

Remarkable , the guile of migratory
birds for they willingly travel home by memory alone
The diligent October wasp with certain death
awaiting behind some unmarked door
The sunlit , short shimmering life of piedmont morning
dew brought to prominence by it's eventual killer
The curve of the Earth indignant to the lurid passing day
Morning Glory swan song riddler , April flurry Winter bereft
The resolute breaker commanding the shore with it's
dying breath

We are wired for anonymity , yet ..
We jot foolishness on paper in the hope of pack acceptance , we strive for
a rhyme , tell of our fears on a lark then fire machine guns into the dark
We choose honor in the light but in the lonely night we just don't give
a **** , we jam another magazine and fire at will without giving a **** who we hit , that's the split second home where mans consciousness truly lives* ...

I titter at the thought of biological death -
for I have died emotionally many times* ..

Poor Miss Ramona seen the devil and ran out of breath , she screamed in confusion as she fell to her death , she'll be looking in your window come cool weather if you fail to get to sleep , you'll get a maniacal , glaring image the likes you've ne'er ever dreamed
The wise-man shan't be cracking a window in the month of November
Nor leaving lit candle for it'll only tempt her
Best be preparing for sleep at sundown , paying the constable to keep a lookout
Dousin' yer fire , addin' extra quilt , stuffin' ears with cotton with a second shot o' sleeping cider
Latchin' ones door smart 'n ketch'n up on yer Bible* ...

Moms cooling sugar cookies on top of the oven and
at age fifty- two I'm still sneaking one into a shirt pocket
without her knowing* ....

A white pickup truck chasing a brown sedan
Silver birds , one after the other once again
A corporate 'Cat' chasing the prize goose for a window view
Cops and robbers on the tube , the morning news *******
session , the evening robot spew
The internet truth , the newspaper gobbledegook , the
song with the same hook , the heroes , the Nero's ,
the high numbered and the zeros* ...

Cherry , huckleberry , and peach Indian summer bouquets
glide across honey- brown sugar loam
They rattle , crackle and dance at the cue of fragrant ambergris winds , gather in splendid sheltered havens , attending by cackling red-winged mavens
Sing to me airborne madrigals , Cooper angels , Pileated conductors of the oakwood , choreographed lapping lakesides , the scrub of White Pines
Land of the pumpernickel shadows , of cinnamon needle carpet
cast adrift in the very breath of artist , lover and songster* ..

Beware of 'the loops' that forever lie in wait
for innocent prey* ..

Offer me a lead to scale and surpass
the cliffs of men , to reside among
the eagles , to abide in starlight ,
to relish pure morning sun* ....

Mirrors hold rolling eyes and snickers
Times looking glass houses shame and trickery
The death of the mind for the weak
I can see their grotesque faces while I speak
Reflections of people that feed upon pain
Their very corruption vying for a cast iron drain to fill
Their laughter during the ***** ..

Family is a lovely , familiar pastel tablecloth 'cover' with a silver candelabra , red wooden apples in a talented craftsman's checkerboard basket , heirloom oak chairs guarding the surface of a dining room table with scratches , deep cuts and numerous depressions , unremovable stains , weathered and never revealed , painful and forever speechless haunting reminders* ....

The quotient of blue in marriage with shimmering green , jasper plow land surrounded in eastern pine motifs and whitewashed barrier
The morning clang of 'smith , cooper and farrier
Days of black pig iron  , cured oak and strap leather
Messages that forever ride the backcountry Autumn zephyrs

Dig a quarter acre pond , keep it filled with clean , aerated water
and small fish will appear on their own before three summers have passed , I kid you not* ....

I've become the best musician , poet and song writer I've ever known in this six hundred square foot sheltered world where I live , write and perform* ...