Politicians continually pick at the festering boil of government bureaucracy with filthy hands yet shrug their shoulders in disbelief
as to why the country refuses to heal ..

Dissimilar globes vying for growth -
and understanding , leaning toward -
peace yet sometimes colliding
Bonds controlled with a cellular switch
Integrity belays a most treacherous ridge
Todays indifference is a steel bridge crossing a dry
river bed , a silt laden delta crying for dredge
We forage unbeknownst with an eye for home
For a stick built wooden box in the burbs ,
heavily manicured , mowed , chemically treated
'green space' , the steel contraption at the end of the drive
with writs demanding a piece of our wage , prepared
feed , porcelain apparatus's , plastic cylinders that accept our ****** waste , pressurized water held in a copper tube at our beck and call
We are agents of the fall
A footnote in history , a useless biochemical monstrosity that once attempted to command the Earth , the Creator irradicated by it's
mechanical , computer driven societal cyborg sons and daughters* ...

Planet Earth . Creation . The perfect storm ? Miracle encapsulation of biochemicals or delivery from the Heavens above ? Millions of cells replicating upon organic matter no larger than the head of a pin ..The origin of life itself resting beneath our own skin ? Blood of mammal , hemolymph of insect , nerve cell of amphibian , skin cell of a pig ..The heart lung blood barrier of man , capillaries in the gills of fish .. Our gift of memory , albeit a curse at times , thought of mind and creativity .. Lust for blood , consumption of flesh , dominating spirit , insensitivity .  The hand that reaches for a flower , a fist driven into the face of an enemy ..Filled with love , life , intrigued with the mystery of creation one day , then hurtling over a cliff to your death the next ... Trillions of cells evolving , mutating , networking while the hallmark of life on Earth is busy de-foresting , polluting , selfishly consuming ! .......

How many trees does it take to print the power bills your required to pay , so the flood lights positioned about your front yard can highlight the fancy bird bath combination fountain you had installed ,  a monument to show your neighbors what an environmentalist you truly are ?
How much water is required to sport green grass in the summertime , a perfectly manicured lawn , edged , trimmed , fertilized each month like clockwork , shunning the fellow for growing a garden of fresh vegetables because his backyard is an " eyesore " unlike everyone else ?
How many deer heads mounted on a wall justify your self described account of manhood , one for each season , culling the herd , in the name of sport when it's obviously just a thirst for blood ! A thousand dollar rifle , two hundred dollar suit , flashlight , hunting knife , hundred dollar boots ?

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

God missed the Holocaust , what makes you think
he's watching over the job interview tomorrow
Atomic bombs dropped over Japan while he was off
On paid leave while Stalin purged Russia
In conference while children starve
People freeze on streets
Bleed needlessly
I'm looking for help and to tell you the
truth his track record is a bit mediocre to me

Affected by Religion
Effects of Government
Continuing Infection

Poetry is the keyhole between the -
body politic and wanton government* ...

Atlanta is 45 miles far too close
The only sound I want is Bear Creek
flowing , morning cattle off to the
highland , topwater bass in the stream lowland
A snorting old buck in the grassland
A Massey Harris turning plowland
The sound of rain tapping on a tin roof
The clicking of a stallions hoofs
Distant thunder on a lazy Hill Country night
The March moon shining bright* ...

Be it prayer , meditation or a good thought tonight ..

Joyously we would meander through the peach groves in the month
of April ... A hundred blossoms on every tree , simple everyday beauty as far as my young eyes could see ..
Grape arbors under diligent care , wisteria filled the cool morning air ..
The morning dew , wind blew life into rolling hillsides , Springs new calves played tag in the afternoon sunshine ..
Guineas always longing for new places to forage , piglets in the henhouse , Brown rooster wing to the ground , dancing a warning !
Noon heat and four o'clock showers , the church bell in town struck
every hour ..
Bethel Church would come alive on Sundays , joyous hymns that echoed through the country ..

Yellow clucking hens off to the -
barn at dusk
They pick their evening perch without a -
fuss
The rooster nudges his harem with-
a morning song
They hit the ground running at the crack of dawn

Ole Mister Boar is down by five
He snores an grunts all through the night
Rolls over in the morn to the '****-a-doodle-doo'
Falls back asleep till a half past two* ..

Hay Farmer Bill is a sight indeed
Rides a red tractor in the Piedmont heat
Works all day like a blackstrapped mule
Whistlin' in the field with a chaw or two o' chew ..

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 ....................

A familiar star...
The first pinprick of light -
to enhance the coming night ..
My kinsfolk wait in golden clouds
Your son's weathered hands caress the crackling cornfields
Ears with mastery of the dove and the whippoorwill ...

Black steeds reveal their charged breath with splendid revelry
o'er the piedmont valley .. Green , gray facades sweep across a volley of cannon and tooled steel reflections as Plough hand , Artist and neighbor stand garrisoned before their final hours ..
Morning skies are a terrific blue in springs first fleeting gasp ..
Is Barabbas among these warriors ? If so , let him stand forward !

Taken aback , by the beauty of a' holler' in Quicksand one morning , songbirds echoing across the valley.. Traversed cool waters of the North Fork Kentucky River , window shopped on the streets of Jackson ..Wondering what it would be like to witness such beautiful scenery , day after day , vistas that most certainly play upon a mans mindset , unparalleled views , chatty blue collar shopkeepers and farmers , she's unequivocally fodder for endless stories and legends ..Foggy , gray , early mornings turn into daytime masterpieces , Xanadu for artist , poet and musician ! At dusk as the air begins to cool , smoke permeates from farmhouse and hamlet , aroma of firewood trapped in the valley as the whippoorwill sings her evening lullaby ...Kentucky is at rest tonight ......

As the vultures cautiously defend their broken gift , a panic stricken ,  innocent creature lays mortally wounded , another tribute to suburban encroachment , killers quite fittingly cloaked in orange attire , warning the civilized world of their presence , roam unchecked throughout Georgia's woodlands .
Paper doll wannabe commandos , indignantly evoke prayer and 'god given rights' , esteem their kind as protectors of the environment . An obvious cover for blood thirst and killing instinct , blanketing raw , scheming , murderous culpabilities ..

Life is the motion of tide , blustery Fall nights
Seed called to the surface of light and falling rain ...
Gustnadoes on the open plains ..Swallows crossing a spirited
evening lake ... A cache of swirling memory in
urgent need of release ..Petty paper flying across
city streets ..Disgruntled figures pursuing their own feet ..

Cotton is truly King ,--from Blue Ridge to Southern border , creator of fortune ,  remedy to pain and struggle  ,  dividing---  pitting neighbor against neighbor ,  market afire funding Sheriffs and  constable , alive and rampant among elderly , teenager , public official ......
King Cotton reintroducing malignant , corruption , nay from yesteryear at mercy of whip and chain ,slave and sharecropper ,  but to the gun , homelessness and the horror of merciless addiction....................

Strips of gray , alabaster and black brushstrokes streak across my confused sky .. Howling , relentless zephyrs hammer fledgling Oaks and softwood Pines ..
Curious leaves and needles clamor beneath the canopy , searching desperately , running for shelter ... Cardinals and Thrashers witness the exodus , their curious chirps drowned with each gust of late February's
Winter fury and banter ... The wind is a young child this afternoon , testing her Mothers scorn , running free throughout the yard intrigued
by the other side of the road ..  Storm clouds are in juvenile mindset as well , threatening rain with their mind on Carolina , tempering my welkin today and gone by tomorrow ..

Tiny Tree frog stuck to the window , looking quite philosophical , working algorithms while waiting on supper , keeping to yourself quite repose and educated , playing mind games with Mayflies till your hunger is satiated* ...

Lady bug on my kitchen table , are you attempting to solve some sort of mathematical equation ?
Are you in contact with the heavens above ? Are you trying to let us know ?
You may be the key to one of mans greatest riddles , then again you may be simply looking for a place to spend the Winter ..

Touristy , seafaring dreamers hobble -
in churning foam
Gulls circle a lonely Hill Country gnome
Sharing his Fritos
In search of a silver dollar
Struck out this salty aired morning
He's settled for a shell or two ...

My Zebco 33 is part of my family
you see , on many a troubled day this
precision piece of machinery has helped
to foster great clarity , encouraged playful
lakeside banter , put many a panfish or two
in the creel as well
This old reel has ne'er skipped a beat in
thirty plus years , a faithful friend , riverbank
companion , an American workhorse in the blue
collar tradition , the 'go to friend' of a grateful fisherman* ...

The hour of the painted shore , wind lashed olive waters
, brother to earth , wind and rain .. What songbird call shall answer the question of the March breeze , which spring buck shall amuse the meandering broom sage .. How the fearful turtle skims just below the sight of my wandering eye . The graceful sigh of Loblolly Pines , red tipped lake lovers , for what has day brought the coming night .. Red Shouldered hawk , the hillsides exquisite ****** crying with intricate dance , wary to every changing movement above nutmeg hued trunks that long for their crowning expectations .. The Suns command , showered in benevolent virtues akin to red , blue and gold passageways , lead brightly westbound for the river as churned lake spaces settle into placid afternoon ..
Ghost of the piedmont forest walk these woodland byways , the breath of the Creek Nation give life to such sacred parcels of heaven ..

Lake Tuesday ..
The hour of the painted shore , wind lashed olive waters
, brother to earth , wind and rain .. What songbird call shall answer the question of the March breeze , which spring buck shall amuse the meandering broom sage .. How the fearful turtle skims just below the sight of my wandering eyes .. The graceful sigh of Loblolly Pines , red tipped lake lovers , for what has day brought the coming night .. Red Shouldered hawk , the hillsides exquisite ****** crying with intricate dance , wary to every changing movement above nutmeg hued trunks that long for their crowning expectations .. The Suns command , showered in benevolent virtues akin to red , blue and gold passageways , lead boldly westbound for the river as churned lake spaces settle into placid afternoon ..
Ghost of the piedmont forest walk these woodland byways , the breath of the Creek Nation give life to such sacred parcels of heaven ..

Their gathering tiny shells , laughing , chasing Sand *****
Searching for Blue's by flashlight , ankle deep -
foaming Gulf acidity , warm zephyrs caressing waterside  
Red stars dragnet the tail of the Milky Way , merchant ships -
dot the ever-changing horizon , luminous piers -
in either direction , nighttime romantics holding hands to -
the music of the nocturnal sea , the pull of each descent -
The promise of each crashing wave , unfulfilled
Aromatic , salt water land confluence
Lightning with his attraction , the Butterscotch Moon , waning at the edge of the earth
Children , unfamiliar with loves pain , frolic in the distance

Water birds are flying into the western sun ,
the pool bar opens with Kentucky bourbon
The crystal telegraphing ocean turns
ever mysterious and more mesmerizing with
every shot
The canopy ***** with fifteen knot gust
Salt water pretzels and crap dip are a must ,
Long Island Iced Teas and ****** Mary's ,
Sweetwater brew , stuffed jalapeños with
a local yocal strumming the blues
The greatest generation mingles with the baby
boomers , like the shrimp boats , the yachts and the
wooden schooners* ...

Remain diligent and steadfast , forbid apogee of Lucifer , the beasts anomaly ,and perpetuation of deceit , vanity , communique with the Almighty , not as the speakers but in private with grace and devotion , frailty and hope ..Salt tempered with honey .....Vinegar with wine ........

Why did I cull corn just like all the
other chickens
At what point did I betray musical talent
for endless , repetitive nowhere living
To be eighteen again , 'tis a popular tune
sung by many
What caused me to write poetry for the first time
seven months ago , which fork in the avenue carried
me to everlasting love , why do I find great solace in being
alone
What force drives me to trouble my fellow writers
at this late hour with the roads I've chosen

If we could only vote by cell phone ,
Lo and behold , the problems we might solve* ...

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

I fashion myself a Greek poet tonight ...
A picture of myself with a purple robe ,
my right hand on an ancient document ,
my left hand pointing toward the sky ,
something a tad dramatic for a two score and ten
year 'rural , hayseed romantic ...'
A security guard in the Louvre is passing my
frame tonight , no clue as to the description
I've cast upon you , absolutely no reason to treat
my claim to fame any different from all the others I would guess ..
So I'll pop my pills , turn out the lights , dream up something different
for tomorrow night .. A Cherokee warrior , a Kentucky Colonel ,
but most likely a retired country poet , waiting for the Ambien to get started , counting the planes that fly by his window , dreaming up 'writes'
to eagerly place in front of you .. Night night .....

I turn to my left , my reflective portrait in a five and dime piece of 'artwork'.. A stunned , graying anomaly going eye to eye with his namesake ...
Thumbing through 'fish wrapper' trying to make myself believe
a masterpiece is lying at the bottom , something to occupy a lonely wall
in a forgotten room ..
Something I've been guilty of many times over the years ...
Hanging on to things that have zero significance , working hard to remain ' Vital , Marketable and Practical' for wolves and robots who were oarless in the deep end of the lake , basically committed to my destruction with no clue for independent thinking , creativity or even grade school logic for that matter .. Tonight I think I'll leave the 'Van Gogh's and the Monet's' here at the store , head back home and write this poem in black marker on that 'lonely wall ..'

Chartreuse wind walkers
Traipsing sunny lanes
Painting grassy plains
Locked in airborne rectitude
Melding seasonal swan songs

Windjammer thistle , dandelion and corn furrow
Portulaca masterpieces , solenaceous Princess's
Buttermilk skylight portals of cottony white
and Winter blue
Red leaf Maple with Gardenia perfume

Song of August greenery
Miracle of piedmont scenery
The call of Autumn attainment
Of Red , Yellow and Brown works
Of soft , reflective frosted tincture

Quick , gut wrenching , critical decisions rendered in the heat of battle are job requirements for front line commanders ..
Assessment , review and second guessing are the duties of the commanded , for their abilities center on the mundane , methodical , easily reviewable past ..

Love is peeking out a window at the pretty young girl in town ..
Love is crying yourself to sleep at night without a soul around ..
Love is a bold phone call praying a parent won't pickup ...
Love is passing notes at school hoping the teacher won't catch on ..
Love is Saturday night counting stars on the front porch ...
Love is daydreaming to find the right words mixed in with a little luck ..
Love is officially 'going steady' on Thursday afternoon and breaking up on Sunday night ...
Love is like picking blackberries combined with a thorn or two till you get it right ...
Love is a leaf in the breeze that only the fortunate can grasp and hold onto  .. Love is a walk in the darkest of night with the uppermost faith in the trail laid before you .....

Peer across the Gobi desert , we are brothers with familiar stories ! A once lush reservoir drained into the bowels of Earth ! A parched bed , cracked into a thousand pieces , on permanent display ! A wealth of years in repose , banished from the scrutiny of public and family alike , trapped behind dry , brazen eyes ! Clover , side by side , swaying in the September breeze , swallows returning home ! A field that vanishes against the orange horizon ! Nourished , courtesy of blue and green impoundments , cascading rivers and creeks ! My memories are a jealous ocean , commanding return of her waters , enslaved , committed to her utter servility !

The honeybee attempting to overwinter by the window sill ,
the same one that sparked the growth and fruition
of our Summer Squash hills ....
Filled our trellis with delicious cucurbits and Roma tomatoes ,
brought life giving pollens to our Pattypans , Crooknecks
Butternuts and Acorns ..

His gift was liquid melody
It collected at the brow , trickled
down his face , splattered onstage ,
it soaked the score page , invited
his following to engage , provided a
river of thought , he shared freely of his
complicated mind then suddenly he was gone* ...

If you cross an ornery mules hindquarters without -
a proper invite you will receive an honorary
degree in 'Hard Negotiation' with a painful Minor in 'Basic Farm Skill and Insight* ...

The pinewoods appear to be in -
a frantic search , having no knowledge of -
sky nor earth
Port Lake lies in some reflective dream ,
receiving drops of salvation in sky born -
schemes
Alas , stubborn poet , let loose thy empirical
tethers whilst running naked among men* ...

My love I beg of thee , will you come out this very night ..
Face me in the firelight , never take me out of your sight ...
Let's raise a toast to our long awaited connection  ,
by informing the world of our deep affection ....
For one night I would risk my everything , for
it's in your eyes that my heart begins to sing .....
People will ridicule our devotion , people will forswear
our commitment to each other , deny our heartfelt supplications
before all others , ridicule our togetherness as a ploy for ulterior motives ..
I want to hide in your arms tonight , your eyes cast upon mine ,
your breath in my ear forever and one year ...
We wait for complex answers to simple equations , we struggle in search of honesty when it's standing all around us ...
We draw the warmth from one another whenever we meet , can we not show our heightened emotions for one another as we casually stroll our hometown streets ?

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* ...

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* ...

here lies creativity neath -
the sparkling boulders
a mayfly on my right shoulder
a swirl of sand ,
imagination tickled
a mud puppy darts -
timid , swift an fickle
songbirds of every color -
criss cross a living canopy -
of green
a miracle of hues -sight unseen
cobblestone drives , azalea borders
and orange butterflies
pine straw trails , placid water
falling acorns and cottontails
a rumble of Alabama thunder
a living festival of sylvan wonder ...

Reinhardt  and  Hendrix , snowflakes , unscripted speech and the month of March ! Schools of fish , butterflies in flight , true love , dreams , the gaggles of blackbirds in Fall . You and I have the power of deja vu coupled with the gift of improvisation , like musicians , keys or boundaries exist but we are granted the freedom to choose any note within these parameters not unlike our brief time on Earth , for better or worse !

Lifelong friends shine like Blue Stars forever , regardless of stormy or fair weather , on a cotton blanket in Autumn tracing the celestial attractions with their fingers , interpreting one another's dreams with spontaneous laughter , pulling daisy petal wishes , constantly charging each others mettle , crossing slippery , uncertain streams then o'er the cold mountaintops of nightfall , sauntering the forenoon valley beside the dewberry bramble , perfectly together

Flurries of notes performing in the
musical winds , operatic showers of love ,
pain and trivial little things , score sheets of marigold
in the key of imagination , trees brushing the blue felt
o'er golden strings playing hymns of life , earth and star conjugation
The waters and the moon in tonal blend ,
the biological song that never ends* ...

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 ,