Morality has become the Cur that
****** on the rug* ....

The modern day physician would never -
thumb through a medical manual from 1788 with regard -
to the treatment of his or her patient ...
Todays tradesman constantly schools himself -
in the mechanics of his chosen profession ....
Thus , the U.S. Constitution is in dire need -
of critical thought and copious correction ...

If the police were issued water pistols the death rate by drowning in this country would increase by ninety percent in two short weeks

What emotion will fill the vacuum -
of revolution
Who will take charge of the -
institutions
How will time modify our Constitution

A raptor makes a good living in this community ...
Hiding in the Sun's glare , carefree , riding the Spring air ..
Diving into unknown brush and circumstances for their next meal , or laden with one of my chickens flying across the cornfield !
Waiting at the tip of the tallest Pine for a hen with a lot on her mind !
Eyeing my prize gobblers like easy pickins', turkey jerky waiting to be plucked like ducks in a barrel ..
The Red tails die young over my homestead , not from old age or gunfire nor trap or 'guaranteed brew' from a hawkers brown bottle !
The Red'uns on this farm die from obesity wearing out my layers like there's no tomorrow !

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 .....

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 ...

If each leaf bore testament to my enduring love , and every tree that sways against stiff November winds would be tantamount to one year of harmony and tranquility between us !                                                                ­                                                                 ­ I would invite you to witness the sun swept forest this morn , our treasured Hill Country , mother of abundant woodlands , stretching to the edge of the horizon ad infinitum !

Give the actor a mirror
The senator a pedestal
The poet a falseness

A  sometimes viscous , organic , circulating fluid is visible in puddles , old and new all over America tonight ...It is bright red , and it belonged to our young , outspoken , talented young citizens in the prime of their lives !  .........

Sorghum syrup , sold just off the National-
highway
Boiled peanuts , pecan divinity
Period pickups , gas fired grills and turkey cookers
Busy , rugged maple rockers , curious roadside onlookers
Store clerk dragging a Salem , orange vested
hunters with a fresh deer ****
Restaurant trailers with hot dog , cheeseburger-
entrees , malt shakes and fried dill pickles
Big rigs on break in cracked asphalt , brown grass-
jungles
Dusk , closing down a rural exit ramp
A tiny town barely on the map ...

Will light remain intolerable -
one minute into physical death
Will the numen's that preside
o'er the living pass away , will the uncertainty
of black memories that shroud
the day abandon me , will the pang of death be
fleeting , will I possess the power of art in some starlit medium* ....

The oaks are tethered to the earth -
yet drawn to the light
They're pointing the way to creation -
but we are blind* ..

A connection atop the oceans circuitry ,
exchanging the tug of maritime electricity ,
moving into dawn , at mercy of the undertow ,
within the timpani flam of inquisitive waters
slamming the morning shores
Receiving her fury and knowledge
from the sea oat ridge
Connecting the bridges of unsure men* ..

A message from across the desert in response to abstract prose and innocent observations , to ancient oligarchies worshiped under duress ,  the archaic methodology of psychological control .. Theological ideology and atrocity , tumultuous agents of torture spin the clockwork government protocol into collusion .. Maliciously and without justification , unnecessary incarceration , the light of the crescent Moon reveals the bastardization of pertinent , judicious thought answered with cold blooded ****** in the name of a God ..

Mans calamity has oft refreshed the poetic mindset ,
spurred countless song , filled theater halls ..
Attuned the common worker with government ,
renewed the sense of nationalism in totalitarian states ,
unearthed new atrocity and sent millions of men , women and children to their deaths ..
Generals will offer bold , patriotic statements , planes will bomb
"key targets" , countries will seek revenge , dust will settle and
thoughts will return to "normal" again ...
You **** three we **** four , you **** a hundred we **** two hundred more , so forth and so on ... Forever ....

Men refuse to reveal their fears , death blows about soldiers grown accustomed to its wretched aroma ! Attachment fosters weakness which shines like a bright light late into the night , revealing location , drawing fire ! Exhaustion , constant battle with uncertainty from ****** , mortar or artillery ! Twenty three hours of nothing followed by an hour of Armageddon ! Choppers retrieving our dead , dropping off much needed ammunition , food and water ! Slowly going out of sight , leaving the platoon left to their own devices , the night filled with cries from the other side , men are dying in the dark tonight  , calling for their Father or Mother ..Day five on perimeter protecting a hilltop , surrounded on four sides by thick forest ! Building pill boxes , fox holes , fortifications , fields of fire and Claymore mines , checkpoints and landing zones ..Fighter jets shoot by at tree top level scattering dust and debris behind , temporarily blinding sentries on watch , bringing soldiers at rest to their knees !.A hundred and twenty days plus a wake up ! I'll never get through it , regardless if I come out dead or alive !

What brings this suggestion , dare I say compulsion ..

Outside defining beauty in utter stupidity , for it changes every second
Playing guitar , but the whimsical melody defies the proper , mechanical method
Allowing thoughts to paper with no mathematical logic , coded messages of the broken hearted , static symbolism out of synchronicity
not unlike basic relationships that suddenly scream bewildered with
newfound intensity* ....

Are we safe harbor , merely a stop from days toil , like Canadian geese in precision,  seasonal formations ! Borders crossed , latitude , longitude predetermined , daydreams of my youth , a proctors scorn , albeit as proper a child to speculate as the migration itself !

One day soon I'd like to look up , tear a hole in the blue cover and just slip out for awhile ....

If you happen to find me with black coffee holding a peanut butter and peach jam sandwich in my hand you will find me loving life , sincere and at my very best ..

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

Waiting on a storm but its only rain , someone upstairs playing with my brain
We wait on the pain with our guard down struggling through the lesson it contains
Plywood cities with little toy trains
A newspaper stuck in the storm drain
A town crier bellowing the morning news
Matchbox delivery trucks ,
A mercurial dove cooing the blues
The Queens bowl of Corn Flakes with a silver
spoon , railroad tracks bound for the midnight moon
Hydrocodone Hannah and her morning town
Music deep inside with no audible sound* ...

Kentucky Autumn lanes with -
calling river valleys
Chimney fire vistas , windy mountain confetti
'Holy Oeuvres' upon Appalachian hardwood canvases* ...

Green Coleman lanterns hung over the water , craving the humid night , nocturnal creatures bathed in the artificial lights ....
The metronomic crash of breakers on the aluminum hulled vessel , baiting hooks and tying gear by flashlight or sheer memory .. Horned Owls , Killdeer and Whippoorwills filled the dark night with haunting songs , the crash of bass and topwater shellcrackers would chill the blood for a moment , cause you to breathe in deep  , exhale out loud .... The aroma of lake water , insect repellent and cigar smoke , chewing on a plug of Bloodhound , strained eyes concentrating on nothing but that bobber , waiting on that tasty fish to take it and run ....
Working your piece of the lake till the early morning Sun ....

Call her the child that joyfully hid in the box .. A young lady whom did speak freely without reservation , expressing herself with song on a medium of heartbreak and denial .. Whispered melodies , in constant improvisation  , imagination eventually retained , naive thoughts sadly sequestered ....
Love .. Nestlings high atop a Willow tree , expecting to fly , all that is good in the world crashing around you as you die .. The sunbeam bringing the rainbow to life , a new Moon seeking audience on a cold black night ...

Goodbye cold season zephyr ...
Carry your rumors of snow and ice to Carolina ..
Return in the month of May with your Summer bride ..
Signal the release of song filled nights ,
the curious Sun painting the Western sky ,
goldens orbs that compel the boardwalk lights ...
Ambergris filling the air of paradise ..

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* ...

Nocturnal , cool June ravishing in the flickers of gas lamplights
Quiet country lanes with familiar friends , Southern engines
tumble over the tracks bound for New Orleans
Barn Owls sing to Apricot horizons , the audible strain of methodic hardwood Rockers
Cicadas , Field Crickets and Katydids stir romantic hearts
Piedmont , Fall line hamlets lie at rest till morning*  ....

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 ...

When that 'Crabapple' rolled down the mountain the coonhounds ran like stuck pigs ! Guys that talked tough an red-neck men got religion faster than a 'red tail' buzzing a chicken pen !
This crikker-croaker was the meanest buzzard that Georgia clay ever invented ! He hunted razorbacks barehanded an bear with a hickory switch , the self proclaimed meanest son-of-a ***** in the whole shooting match , self righteous raw meat eatin' , grain alcohol drinking bush-whacker you've ever witnessed ....

Walk into a room where people are laughing -
only to watch silence ensue , you've become an issue
Your neighborhood dealer 'cutting you a deal' on something
killing you , pupils fixed and dilated , the
machinery is running out of gas , waiting on a
view from the Moon when the pang of death passes
The picture loses the Sun as reason is fractured , morality collapses ,
hope is trashed as your troubled heart slowly relaxes* ...

A bluebird atop a farm bell patrolled-
his sunnydale ..
Discerning butterfly from cricket-
in the broomsage thicket ..
A chirpy melodious song of love ..
Greetings from Jonah , the thrasher -
& the turtle dove ...
Cardinals advance through the barren-
trees ..
Along the winterberry & the lapping stream ..
Good day from Pi , from the pink sky ..
From the bounty neath hundred year old oaks ..
From February greens to Aprils sunny scenes ..

Clover honey sunshine o'er Sassafras rivers
Proud Martins sing for notoriety , full bloom-
white sugar , shivers in the afternoon pasture
Our last Raven of the hard day season
Roaster , stained glass color kinda holidays -
liquid Kildare clover valleys , euphoric July nightshades

Sunday eve , feasting on 'Shepherds pie' , starry transmissions from a changing , churning southern sky ... Steeped black tea carried on the winds of tempestuous July , quietly lost in the birth of twilight
The juvenile , search light , embellished night , curious remaining songbirds
and front porch lovers
Tree frog , Katydid sonatas , apropos of the Georgia summer* ..

I sifted the dross of humanity
and stumbled upon gold
Upon white linen scarf , auburn tresses and
silken dress
Upon porcelain wonderment and starstruck shadows
against a waxing moon address
O'er the blue lake , the crystal wave
As egret and loon do quietly confess  
Mouth culled before the afternoon rains
At rest amongst broomsage , wire grass and willow
The song of curt warbler
The rumble of charcoal pillows
Shards of sunlight under evenings duress
The plight of evening shorebirds that seek the western light
The call of smitten doves , sylvan songs in the coming night* ...

Pepsi colas cooling in the well
The perfumed smell of first cut hay
Life's peeks and valleys , days were made easy -
in a piedmont shady dale* ....

Hallelujah , chipper fledglings
Bold showers , random blessings
Barefooted , o'er wetted summer carpets
For silver eyes that patrol countryside miracles
Sweet , scented blooms
A trace of empirical , welcome sunshine this afternoon
Hallelujah , hallelujah* ..

it's not a tear, child ,
merely a drop of rain ,
a gift to nullify humanities pain ,
an elixir from heaven above ,
a concurrence of musical tones-
from 'the almighty'
an unsealed trove of afternoon love ...

Hamburgers and hot dogs ,
lemonade , fried sweet potato pies an scuppernongs
Saturday night revivals and county -
fairs
Convocation and worship in the
warm , sweet summer air

Field crickets will play glorious music by the light of the crescent Moon ,
Elves will sing songs of sweet Summer in the name of beautiful June ..

I can be found in Port Woods
Where her pond is revealed in -
the burning fog
Where miracles are witnessed with-
each artistic rendition
Engulfed in the truest religion ..

Chasing the cloudburst of June ..
Vying arid , parched Summer determination ..
A blessing to walk flooded narrows , receiving the aroma of fertile soil ..

Alone with the Moon on a Saturday -
night
A porcelain mug with a peppermint tea -
and silver spoon to pass the time
I made a pact with a long lost friend ,
to catch up again on a warm July twilight ,
with the Summer star treasure trove of -
dreams , my old friend the Little Dipper
and I , reconnecting on a wonderful ride
towards the Dawn in some celestial rite* ..

The game of hurt and apologize has no foreseeable end
Political , corporate , media manipulators will continue to maim and **** while begging forgiveness until all their detractors are dead

When a poet or poetess loses his or her sentimentality -
they are finished* ...

I abhor the bastardization of hot , black coffee* ..

Record my love like a child , upon asphalt avenues in a medium of chalk .. For I was soapstone when I walked the earth .. Fragile , susceptible to change , prone to stormy weather and fleeting* ...

If there is a working God he surely rest beside me ..
For surely he hath little need to dwell amongst the righteous*...