I have in my hand , the very dollar bill , was a cash settlement for postage stamps in Chattahoochee Hills , same bill that fed the Kitty at a strip joint in Dallas ,  bought a Charms Sucker at a bowling alley in Texarkana ! Helped pay the rent on a duplex in Santa Fe , went toward the water bill in Reno , Nevada.  On its way to New Orleans , handed off by a trucker in Abilene . Handed over to a **** dealer from Chattanooga , wound up in a offering plate in Kalamazoo , Michigan !

In March of 2010 a 46 year old white male was brought to this hospital after a severe 'episode'. He was placed in the Mental Health Intensive Care Unit .  He was diagnosed with " Major Depression ". This is considered Slow Death , a treatable disorder by the AMA currently . Artist and Architect will lay out Hallucinations and conceptual designs , Engineers , Mathematicians and Surveyors will coordinate more pills at higher doses because minute details to within fractions of an inch followed by schizophrenia by Earth moving equipment , graders , bulldozers , psychotic episodes , dump trucks , Carpenters and Concrete ,  bi-polar disorder and  Bricklayer will labor different Help treatment methods because the drugs are having absolutely no piece by piece constructing form , pylon , shoring embankments for Steel Worker and Welder ,Pipefitter and Increased risk of suicide was reported for Plumber and all manner of tradesman , supplier and Pharmacist ........
            Psychiatrist and Psychologist will formulate a treatment plan which will include drug therapy and counseling sessions with Electrician and patient and Spouse plus other family members if needed in order to reach the island Drowning which will be a difficult task . Emory Hospital is conducting new research because they finally admit to depression drugs  not working in Freak more than half the patients today , like every other building bridges in hopes of getting to the island that is depression .

It wasn't the sound of Bobwhite Quail on the opposite shore of the lake  , nor the sound of bullfrogs or panfish striking the surface ..
       Not the cacophony of insect and songbird or cattle calling in the distance ........ With such sweet music in the air , 'twas but one song above all other !  Laughter ! Walking hand in hand , the first day we met , just the two of us  !

Vayu stands at the shore , with arms outstretched , shrieking wind from four corners of Earth ! Tornadic winds , vigorous , turbulent , battle of ocean and Moon , every tree racked with its ferocity ......
Parvati appears at the horizon , releasing pheromone across the waters , pulling seed to sunlight , fruit to vine , unleashing the rebirth of plant and animal ! ... Kama appears at the edge of the multitude of new tree , grass and herb , power of wind carrying pheromone dominating the air , forcing his very hand ! Love is all consuming and alive !

What outfit do I wear today ? The suit of armor that repels those committed to my destruction or the cape of pride , that which repels religious fanatics and their fables !  I've many protective outfits and triggers to choose from today . Like yesterday , retouching numerous blemishes which appeared on my social portrait from drops of rain , one for each memory ,  many storms  , clouds , billowing this very morning ..  A thespian stands before the looking glass ready to perform , plea for recognition and stand in judgement from his peers ........

Dawn , pulled into the light and warmth of Titan , refreshed , inquisitive and studious with paper and pen , charting the human condition with great zeal for today your Master Stroke , committed to paper and lauded by your contemporaries ! Sapientiam scribe in corde pueri et senes !

Recall the parable of feeble garden and unruly child . Thou didst plant seedling devoid of sunbeam or nourished medium !

My favorite part of the house , the living room , the leather couch , facing South , no stars tonight , misty rain without a' postcard view ' this evening but beautiful for sure ! I've great faith and receive abundant pleasure from things normally taken for granted like a cool breeze , tree frogs ,crickets and zinnias , a good Granny Smith apple and corn on the cob ! Set outside late one night and you'll find it's actually more alive than daytime if your fortunate enough to be out of the big city ..I wish upon the youngster , teenager and young adult on this night to let imaginations run full speed , receiving all that is good in this truly wonderful world , to love and be loved , take time to be alone , find a place in your heart to call your own ! ..

My disease has fifteen different symptoms yet no one was able to put the puzzle together , olfactory reference or trying to be invisible , crying , begging not to be around people , so an *** beating was the medicine in the early seventies from self proclaimed Doctors like my father most occasions , the cheap prescription to set the boy straight , go to bed hungry with the door slammed , in pitch dark for the high crime of being sad with no way to control it , now back in school scared of home too , blocking out everything , afraid to speak , raise my hand , couldn't remember a thing , sharks eat the fish under duress , be advised that children can be the most evil ******* on the planet !

A jet plane headed Southwest ,  flying to New Orleans this evening , leaving a contrail high in the sky , almost out of sight , headed to Bourbon Street , Jackson Square , the Mississippi River , to get a cold beer , plate of oysters ,watch a blues band , then to Cafe Du Monde for a beignet , hot cup of coffee ! Watch the barges floating by on the river walk , headed to the Gulf of Mexico tonight !  A jazz quartet is playing up ahead ! Crescent City , mother of the blues , alive with rock , cajun , classical , country . Beautiful women , dancing , laughter and some of the best food you could ever imagine ! Another warm steamy night in The Big Easy ! ..

Bo Goodin Reddy was a friend o' mine
Gargled in the morning with turpentine !
Ate catfish and drank moonshine ,
Worked like a mule on the old rail line !
Bo yanked a heifer 'outta Whitewash Creek ,
He could whup a black bear with a hickory switch !
Played five card stud till the cows came home ,
Shot a pine cone off a tree at a hundred yards                                                      Man could grab a rattler before the snake could blink ,    
Bo was more man than a man could think !

Georgia Winter with icy rain , bone chilling breeze , sweeping hayfield , light of day returning , brushing distant storm clouds ,  same field that my great-grandfather worked , recovering , renewing , reborn ... Red , pink and golden hues , from West to East , tolling of metal and hammer from farmhouse , Canadian Geese having received their cue , in flight , South , to their annual resting place ...A time of rest and rebuilding , planning and giving thanks ...This is November ...

The wind like the politician is blowing dead leaves into piles .-Maple-dogwood , from every square foot of the forest-, not unlike this land , to take dead , lifeless organic material and set it on fire . Heavy thick smoke-is appearing , choking , reducing our vision , leaving us fearful of the unknown , thats how its done ! A funeral pyre aflame , in the name of country , but burning our eye so we cannot see its true intent , it's the natural order charade , a witches brew , a stew cooked by the burning of innocent robotic dead of mind , grab a bowl , a spoon and a ladle , get force fed by Democrat , Republican chefs !

I  , no more than a flurry in a Winter storm , or drop of water in a raging sea , alone , left to my own devices , entrapped in deafening solitude and sorrow ..A minute particle afloat , riding breeze , destination uncharted ,  skeptical apprehension , destined to become dirt , ingested , born anew , repeating nature's furious cycle forever......

A Quarter in the juke box to pay for a song , a penny for a wish , buy tokens of love , burn money for a child's affection , spend the days alone , pay attention , the ultimate price , then tithe our Gods ,

Memory is a punctual ghost-. A silo of bitter and sweet harvest-threshing row upon row , separating chaff from kernel , **** from grain , a long days toil in seclusion , followed by persistent spirit , insomnia , and return to labor at dawn* ...

Practical Penelope got up at Dawn to catch a box of  tissues on sale at K-mart to hide her grief at losing another , these men didn't really understand her .
Practical Penelope used paper plates twice , bathed once a week , and walked at night , window shopping , searching for Mister Right , picking up pennies to go in a bank , save up for a spool of thread to **** a sock , and make amends , to father , mother , strangers that scoffed at her for being such a mess , in public even , pushing a cart and picking up papers to write a list , a note about a few lost friends , a diary you might call it , precious thought , neatly folded in a brown paper bag , a reminder for tomorrow for practical Penelope would be on the loose , looking for tin cans and bottles , things that were shiny , walking to work but never finding it , making notes , marking her trail , with gum off the street , wondering , thinking out loud , where are lovers hiding ......

Off to bed tonight with many question in mind , poured my heart out for
                                                  Eight ---king likes ?
                                                  Good night folks !

Listening  and worshiping the big ******* eyeball ,  beaming into our children's eyes , conditioned to violence , accustomed to
smear **** on canvas , daring me to have a negative opinion ,
Throwing bigot and race like feeding pigeons , fist fights turned into automatic rifle fire , can't marry him , can't marry her , explosive people have no fuse , twelve year olds in their third trimester , an American ******* free for all , educational lotteries , churches picketing funerals ,
corporate hero worship designed to sell god ****** hamburgers , killing forest , killing farms , taxing polluted air I breathe , stabbed in the back by government freaks , burning the truth in effigy !

Red tip shrubs are reflecting intermittent sunshine across puddles of water in the yard , pine cones , straw covers the ground beneath the trees . Steam coming off the road , cars crashing into standing water , garden soaked , eggplant laying sideways...Fall garden looks invigorated , rain barrel overflowing , wheel barrow completely full of water , dead grass from previous grass cuttings have collected at the end of the driveway from water rushing down earlier today .Birds are leaving their cover to forage , dark clouds once again coming from the East ...The rumble of a train coming through Palmetto , big trucks on South Fulton Parkway and the occasional jet coming into Hartsfield .....

Tybee , the Masters sonata of wind , crashing wave , sand and tide , Alpha and Omega of rippling current , mighty Savannah River completes her southern journey here .. As Sailor , ****** and maritime entrepreneur , embark , having left the security of her shore into the mighty , unforgiving Atlantic , her Lighthouse , a living testament to sacrifice , safe return to port as well as those forever lost at sea

A trip to Franklin , my childhood home , West Point Lake on Sunday afternoon , awe inspiring view indeed , where Chattahoochee marries reservoir.... On the night we find ourselves apart , continue in my name on Earth , focus on the beautiful life we've shared , our dreams and our love for one another...I'll be waiting on this very shore ........

Can get you incarcerated , falsely accused ,-branded like cattle,-assigned to a herd--,--held in contempt-,--declared -a criminal-, racism--bigotry at bequest of these hands-, words that separate-,-that shock and offend ..Written language can question with a power unequaled ,-like Democracy itself-, redefining-, respecting all groups-without regard to contemptible , collaborators spearing with self righteous commandments hidden in hate !. Poetry is not for politically correct , faint of heart , or sheep being led to slaughter. She is every emotion that human beings foster , paint for the artist , on the palette of her chosen desire ! At whim , with Fire , write as though you are carving granite , studious , with forethought and with great strength !!

If I were member of the infamous Donner Party I would know not my volition anymore than what the future has in store for even one iota , Or universe held by fingers ? .. Have no recollection nor proof , faith , benevolent God or Goddess as I witness numerous horror , afflictions, malfeasance of King and governed be it Man , Woman or Child ?
I wholeheartedly refrain slander , judgement upon societies forgotten , betrayed by countryman and Much speaks , forgotten soldiers , tortured mind , aging flesh with mania that lay abandoned upon the very dirt they committed under oath to protect ?

Summer days , exploring with laughter , reckless abandon followed by a breakfast for dinner , hot bath , tiger pajamas , a kiss goodnight , left to touch the moon , stars and all heavenly wonders with heavy eyelids and a boys anticipation for tomorrow ............

Loved to tell a joke ,  loved his Winston's , a pack always visible in a white dress shirt , cigarette in the corner of his mouth . Right eye quivered left eye open ,. seen him drunk once , alcohol on his breath every day ,  morning and afternoon ,. medals and commendations , not worth a cheeseburger at McDonalds , delivered the living , hauled back the dead , hosed chariot , back again , Purple Hearts and Silver Stars , another day at the office and Saigon bars ..A defeated man , No , a product of the sixties , American warrior with all its ambiguity , loved his comrades but cursed the ' system ' , face would palsy , voice growing deeper then silent , physically residing in Conley , emotionally in battle , at ease Major Jobe !

Before the pills kick in I'd just like to say , your work grows more beautiful with each passing day ! Love and laughter , myriad topics , bearing your soul once more , poet and poetess ! Good night folks !!

He loved his Falcons , Hawks and old westerns , hot dogs , Nacho Cheese Doritos and looking after the chickens , Spam sandwiches , pound cake and double cheeseburgers from McDonalds , cold beer and pizza on Fridays . Best friend ever Little Bear . Five long , 135 lbs. of the best dog I've ever had the pleasure of knowing !

It's only a Summer shower , child ,-not a storm-, like cool mornings in April -they come and go ! Like crows in treetops at the break of day , they warm up , cackle and fly away !- It's only a shadow , child , they come out at night , like crickets , the moon , fireflies and lights . It's only the rain child , feeding the grass , by morning you'll know that the shower has passed !....

Never grab a moccasin or go to Clayton County at night --if you car breaks down -run in the woods and hide--Don't try to convince yourself that your  a plumber- Stay out of Riverdale-Winter and Summer ! Don't go to Clayton County during the day--if caught alone , you will surely pay ! Never cruise Clayton County on a lark-for Gods sake stay away from Forest Park ! Never grab a bull by the horns , stay away from Jonesboro-you've been warned ! Old National Highway is a long lost cause , Lovejoy , College Park and all points south ! Tara Boulevard , Pointe South Parkway , Highway 54 and Conley Drive ! State 85 and Flint River Drive , like playing the lottery with your own dang life !

A beautiful tune plays on the radio and there you are ,
You're with me at the lake , city park , grocery store ,
Guided my hand when I planted our Spring garden , the song of Cardinal , Bluebird and Robin .. The blanket I hold tight in middle of night ,  glow in my heart , Dogwood , morning light .....Enchanting , mysterious Harvest Moon , every Butterfly that meanders in June .....My hopes , the whirl of a ballerina , the choreography of the river dancer ....With every twinkle of light in the nighttime skies , point , marvel at your sweet brown eyes ......

I hear a chopper coming-is it coming for me-- postman in my driveway with registered mail ---Ex refusing to leave my house of bitter memories-Children are making up games about me on the streets-mean streets -I remember them well -asphalt burning my soles--want to find a group to call my own-tick tock familiar clock-were at it again-no place to be-plenty of time left for most anything everyday-answering -I hear you -I know what you want-to talk with a persecutor , family , marketer , dealer, -ex boss-medicine-hand over bad -eye-room moving always -conditioned -revolving day to day events-just like the day before -future day -Ive seen them---know what they tell-----mind reader -Im the mountain you can't climb-I'm the lake of fire-hiding behind closed doorways-trapped in Walmart with no way out ----loud on the internet where i can't be seen-making friends to take friends to quell my aggressive tendency -chest pounding-breath -window -drawing -remembering-*** beatings-hiding-drinking -stabbing childhood-screaming-parent-nodding sleeping -leaving -****** in my pants -pleading returning -forgiving dealing -needing-grieving !

Allure of allspice , cinnamon and vanilla fills her culinary workshop , warm oven and sweet memories of pumpkin , sweet potato pies , oatmeal cookies , divinity on Christmas Eve , roasted pecans , ambrosia and fig butter. Children , grandchildren licking frosting bowls , sharing stories , learning the time honored craft of baking , tradition and bonding of family , close friend and neighbor . Scent of Winter , frosted windows , smell of burning oak , sweet gum , smoke rising into low cloud cover from distant homes on this cold afternoon , bathed in glow of fireplace , Mothers book of recipes in hand , assuring , comforting , stoking fire in my very soul . May this day last forever ......

Birdhouses and farm bell gone ,  garden spot now a tangled field of grass and small trees . Farmhouse , empty and dying from top to bottom , flower gardens missing , iron kettle hanging by rusted chain . Clothes line , henhouse and both red barns are at the ready, but sadly , empty as well . Logging chains , bale hooks , pitchfork and weathervane ,  put away forever most likely along with lifetime memories , good and bad.

To my fellow Artist tonight , a final word on the rhapsody of beautiful sentiments expressed regarding love , the human condition and hope written by skilled , emotionally charged men and women today ! With dignity , grace , and passion throughout today you have once again charged and reminded a humble colleague on the power of poetry forged by fierce imagination and forethought ! Thank you and good night !

I see virtually every shade of green , gorgeous yellows and stunning blue  tonight , like morning , afternoon , each day , and the last two months , trapped in chemical depression , hearing , smell and touch are imprisoned along with my body , sentenced to Summer and apparently Fall , indoors ...

Talulah Gorge sparks imagination of lovers , sincerity , life's fulfillment and passion , sadly in Autumn of life , devoid of vernal color from perch high above yet emboldened by the music of life below , rushing waters , laughter echoing from the valley , taken aback by the assurance of Sun , Wind and Archangel , calling me home to where the beauty of this great expanse , nestled in the mountain , revealed in the light of Heaven !

I'm a firm believer in the sixth sense of animals and their ability to portend the future 'sometimes' . Many cases exist , farm animals included , of strange occurrences just before an Earthquake , Tornado or Hailstorm !
Animals have the ability to pick up emotional signals from human beings as well ! We had a quarter horse that could pick up fear , a dog that would hide under the bed an hour before a hailstorm , and a pet pig that would squeal and hide from someone it didn't recognize ! Then again I had a Rooster once , that picked up on my depressed state of mind an flogged me good with its razor sharp spurs one afternoon ! I questioned his ability to see the future later on that evening as I rocked on the front porch and picked out his barbecued remains with a wood tooth pick and a cup of hot tea* !

Sundays overlooking Bellah Field , parachutes of every color , like the kites we flew high over Asa Moseley Road , homemade ice cream , Grandmothers feast after Sunday school , choir voices of Bethel UMC in the distance , music in my heart , of cattle , rooster , guinea and Mothers piano ....................

Mankind , rose gardens and vegetable plot ,  similar as blossom can be killed with kindness , burned under the scrutiny of artificial light , like deceitful people , hidden from sunlight by the greedy , vegetable and fruit picked before maturity , abandoned fruit on the ground giving hope of rebirth , pray for wisdom of Kokopelli ,removing weeds that choke life's abundant flowers .....................

A departure unforeseen , Father , gun in mouth , routine stop for policeman and paramedic , in bed  , at peace , thankfully not witnessed , trigger mechanism and human mind , complicated machinations and machinery , revolvers easily taken apart , analyzed , correction to design , re-tooled  unlike thought , perception , objectivity , inner workings of depressed , hopeless and panic stricken inner wounds not attended to or recognized .......

As a young man at life's crossroad several occupations were within my abilities including medicine ,  law , astronaut , mathematician  or even a Kentucky Colonel for that matter , but the aptitude required to be a Pecan Farmer flew high above my mentality at the time and continues to this very day ..............

The Bald Eagle , majestic symbol of our great land , truly a site to behold flying high above our mighty Republic , spanning blue water , cornfields , bustling cities , mountain and valley  , It is the Horse , however , like the common man and woman , that made this country great with hard labor , tireless devotion in the cause of Liberty and diligence in uncertain times ...

On quiet afternoons in the Fall ,  Oaks and Maple cry , drumming of war heard through the pines , for on this hallowed ground Georgia was  divided , Native Tribes became belligerent , the Northern third of a nation lost , on this very day, late afternoon , by rushing water , voices whisper agony of Chief McIntosh , warring tribes of Cherokee , Creek in battle , brother against brother , bitterly divided over outside aggression , by stroke of pen , broken treaty and deceit ,  forest alive with ghost of man woman and child , the ensuing Trail of Tears and destruction of a once proud Nation ...

She can be found from Valdosta to the Tennessee border , indigenous to both rural and metropolitan areas of the Empire State , discovered in the late 50's as the capital city of Atlanta exploded with new development .As Georgia Pines , Chestnut and Oak trees were cut at random to make way for roadways and development this familiar lady could be seen all across the metro and eventually worked it's way along all major highways and interstates and has thrived ever since ,  growing in huge numbers each year ! She is now the unofficial State Tree of Georgia ! We call her the Orange Construction Barrel ! Not to be confused with her smaller cousin the traffic cone !!

One day in the future , they will comb planet Earth, seeking clues to **** sapiens extinction .  Automobiles , drink machines , laptops , nuclear fission , then in Data Base Nine, in 7505 humanoids will reach the conclusion . Early man was a beast divided amongst races , that killed in the name of theology and customs , plundered the worlds resources , poisoned it's waters , depleted the ozone while leveling her forest .....

This creek is an old friend , for I've sat at the banks with a gun in my hand . Lifted every rock for mud puppies and crayfish , walked it's bank days on end , as child , teenager , a soldier and a Dad , Twenty eight years ago I  travelled back with my new daughter , to give thanks , for showing me the light ,  and now much older with grandchild in hand I bow to you once more , my dear, dear , old friend !

Seagulls in Newnan ? Most certainly so , I've seen them many times on my way to the store , Two hundred miles from the Gulf do they fly , meandering around town late at night  , at fast food restaurants in the wee hours of the morning , gliding in heavy winds,  just like the seashore ,  back an forth , some at arms reach , just like their family at Mexico Beach ..

Sandpipers have some place to go as do brown pelicans making long established rounds , not unlike ourselves , trapped in our own mortality , to be released at a time unknown , to our final destination ...

Petunias ,begonias and mother- in -laws tongue ,hang in green baskets along her walls , screened in from mosquitoes and creatures of the night , hot tea and sugar cookies , bathed in moonlight , Nana is singing a hymn to herself while I listen to an owl in the distance , the crackle of the rocking chair , cicadas sounding in Water Oaks canopy , both hands around my cup, 'tis time for reflection .............