We're beautiful fools
For the true religion is love prophesied
by countless messengers* ...

A traitor cloaked in the cloth
of family is a monster indeed

Recalling collusion with ink stained hands and a chocolate smeared face , playing "Vietnam" with a  broomstick broadcast in black and white , no blood in sight Mr. Cronkite , no blood tonight* .....

Moonlight pantomime , tempestuous appointments beg fruition , carnal figurines performing agin searing , thin ambient air in misted flesh
Parched lovers recompensed , wailing secret vows , clarity a slave to confusion , accentuation , shameless surrender* ....

Each drop of rain has been programmed with
exact coordinates from which to strike land
The direction of the wind rehearsed from a
remote corner of Earth
The sun signs off daily on lucky parcels that will bask in its
love
Every wrinkle in the mirror planned in advance
A lavatory faucet stream explosion where it meets
porcelain
Small rivers hurdle down cabinets retrieving dust ,
bound for trim moulding , another universe now forming
The trimmed end of a hair lying on the floor , the residents are attempting to contact the opposite end for answers , for surety of purpose , to prove they're not alone

Pools of rainwater become utopian portals
Sunny sunshine is a quiet confidante from beneath the Weeping Willow
The sky illustrates by the minute with colors of silver , blue and gold
Bluebirds wrote a song for us
We lay wind-washed among fair field flowers
Afternoon mellow , whispered articulate -
modes of eternity , the miracle of love unfolding
The evening faces twilight as a beautiful bride
Swan song , Mourning dove ballads , mercurial
fading daytime* ....

The sacrosanct statues at the statehouse
follow me with their eyes
A ******* socialist trespassing on
holy ground
A bumbling , ne'er-do-well demanding
free medicine , free college , insider working knowledge
I demand transparency
Term limits
Organized guerrilla religion is killing us
Wall Street will continue to bill us while 'Big oil ' methodically drills and kills  
Malingering big Pharma has no business interest
in cures
Environmental agencies will wave us off -
till we're able to walk across polluted rivers
The news is dead
Journalism is dead
Someone help us , for the news is dead** ...

Debris on the roadway
Leaves in the pond
Trash stifling storm drains
A foolish marriage leaving pain
Candy apple autumn
Hot chocolate winter
The alluring smoke of spring barbecuers  
The 'goats of love gone astray' turning
on skewers

I see a rough hombre in my coffee
He's scarred from a ticket to hell -
but somehow lived to tell tall tales
Takes a lot of work to muster 250 pounds in a six
foot three frame
I'm doing pretty **** good for fifty three
I have to say*..

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* ...

A birds-eye view of Hill Country bound
for my celestial reservation will most
certainly create unbridled hesitation* ...

The moths were drunk on barrel fire
Automatic hand- held engines sent death on lasers
I prayed for the gift of invisibility
When the doors of hell erupted I watched
myself fire involuntarily* ...

My pitiful world is painted with streaks of gray , with blackness
from tear drops in laden skylight , from clocks that freeze
time on bewildering , blue days
People are laughing at my infirmity , collecting cash
at my expense , mocking my every move , dilating
the past , bearing canine incisors and fangs , freezing me in my tracks* ....

Explosive wrath called into play
The odor of decomposition on a hot ,
bitter day
The rancor and confusion of 'Broken Arrow'
Mercurial Lieutenants ordering suppressive
fire on false objectives , exposing location
in a counter-offensive
Alpha , Niner , One call for fire
Copy-get small on the wire

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

I hurt things that I come in contact with
People , the ground beneath my feet , childish creativity deep inside  , overwhelmed by panic on a city street , the queer and his feminine tendencies or the crier with his depressive propensity , love sizes me , seeking a weak angle , a tender spot , then kills me ...
I've died many times on the inside
Responsibilities , relations , relatives
Mentally beat , ridiculed , forever meek
Stepped over like a piece of rotting meat
Empty rooms are homicidal entities , friends are a temporary
truce among blood enemies

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

Clip clop go rain drops from rooftops
Splashing into clear pools in a
foggy window backdrop
Willow parasols drip drop -
Monday morning rain
Draw a smiling Sun on a window pane* .

Her ways are of the seashore prior to dawn , let her draw you into the light of day

Musical scores tend to form patterns -
and are quite logical
The time between each note is the separation -
point between rudimentary composer and genius ....

Thoughts and rain wile
away the night
Lightning blue shrouds
a lonely eastern March sky
Guitars and tea , bugs collecting
on a porch light , a whippoorwill
sighs , an barn owl begins to cry , the
brown bats have now come alive ,
the hummers will return , the garden
will soon need seeding , green grass
and sunshine will once again meet ,
children will return to the street ,
for the March winter is fleeting* ...

Black and white television was a world
all its own , easy to walk away from ,
devoid of the color red quite common in
'68 , protesters beaten on the streets , men
of peace slain pursuing their dream , straw huts
set ablaze , the flash of cannon and martyrdom , annihilation
Blood was the same color as asphalt
The starving people of the world were addressed-
right after they were photographed
We were different from all the other countries
So we were taught* ...

Salve a callous thought , O' reticent Whippoorwill
Cool evenings to bind my public wounds , a blue star for
repentant eve's , pungent grasses to reconcile beside
the Moonshine Narrows* .....

Which skin color will appeal to -
everyone* ?

A shot or two of Cinnamon Whiskey and sometimes
a third can enlighten the view of a
cold , hard world
The steady beat of a Maple rocker with a
chaw of Bloodhound tobacco stokes a fire
in the very soul of this ******* of bones
The night songs of Tree frogs and field crickets
Evening snacks of 'Red hots' and biscuits
Wild blackberry and Turkey fig jelly ,
'White Dirt' once a year and sweet 'Rock candy'* ...

Rabbit tobacco is for smoking -
like Hereford bulls are for riding
Politicians stick to their promises -
like cheap paint on 'weathered wood siding*'

Where was the crossroad ..The turning point in life ?
What action begat having to defend your little piece of home each night ?
Not enough steam in Atlanta for everyone , or enough street lights ..
Not enough cardboard on the boulevard to rig temporary digs ..
Or food at the shelters to settle hungers pangs , or enough smack tonight to feed the starving pig !
"Why can't February 12th be a holiday ? A day when politicians , the media and athletes give a **** , like Thanksgiving and Christmas , the days we're on TV posing with the talking heads and the other well to do Atlantan's ?"

I've become bored with the -
monotonous world ...
A chili dog and a Pepsi should stir
things up posthaste* ...

Counterattack whilst the pang of defeat is greatest* ...

Reach to the corner of the room
Pull the film to the floor , set the mind to explore
Unlock a door , throw away the view you've been given , feast upon life through another dimension
Surpass the whim of fools , let knowledge become your jewel
A phalanx of stars await your conjugation -
Bask in their heavenly education* ...

This latent calculus of isolation
I rue the very hour of human -
participation , choosing to smear my body
with the very mud of creation
Forever more* ..

O , the weight of thy recompense
In battle with brawny hardwoods ,
sovereign of twilight seas , invoking
ghost in the house of love , the mercy
of Old World Gods from resplendent kingdoms
Lantern of the midnight harvest
Celestial , storied , jaundice provider* ....

Revolution now absconded , buried in lies
Period heroes covered in bird **** , cold green copper effigies
D.C. wannabes , robots packin' protected heat , militarized police working the crime scenes , when agents of change patrol the pink
dogwood streets , martial law is thawing in their sink
A bottle of gin to cure the alcoholic
Sun setting pyre for the agnostics
Who's above little me
Who in the **** believes they're commanding
me

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

If I could be Bear Creek ,
free flowing ,
broad shouldered ,
calm in the heat of summer ,
ferocious in the midst of the storm ,
fluid in every situation ..
Marching to the love of the sea ,
in touch with every bird , every tree
Grinding stones to do my bidding ,
every grain of sand at my beck and call ,
my life's blood a cascading waterfall , enrapturing
the hearts and minds of lovers , firing the
imagination of the young , providing sustenance
to the evening dove , my thoughts are a
virtual flood before parched earth , relieving the dusty trail ,
filling the lowland with love , nourishing
the beast of the field , a living monument before my brothers*...

I traverse the dense pinewood by rote
Through wiry entanglements
Crossing red dirt roads
Engaged to no one , respectful to every
briar , berry and stone
Filled with the music of forest rain
Rummaging fauna , damp floor fora
of bird , sweet breath of multitudinous
country flora , roebuck and windswept
question , hardwood umbrella stops along
the way in timely , unshaken order
Content in where I belong
To close the circle for awhile and belong* ...

Pray for magic
Pray out of sheer panic
For absolution
For a cease fire solution
For the end of Aleppo's ****** confusion
Find the benevolent God of everything
Tell his highness of indiscriminate killing
Whether they're praying on two feet or kneeling
Tell of mothers and children screaming
Tell the almighty of demons in the sky on a feeding frenzy

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

Hoping to be understood is
weakness revealed
To be revealed is to be understood
The understander has knowledge , the revealer is helplessly known
Knowledge is power
Great power over those that foolishly wish to be understood

Greens are curious eyes on exhausted game
Exasperated , miffed and melancholy all the same
Blues are hair bows , gray for gun metal gizmos
Red for flak at treetop level , white for pain
and tears for no known reason , brown for eyeing the
hunted out of season , Tiffany lamp soldered bits of glass ,
hiding histories homicidal past
Purple to calibrate the down hill day , yellow for catching
a ride on the astral plane
Pink for clearing , Winter afternoons , Nutmeg cobblestone lanes
Black for tyrants with the keys to destruction
Amber for Sheriffs that carryout their coercion* ...

We are the afternoon wilted curcurbits  , leaves drawn and froward ,
pining for evening thundershowers , emboldened , tempting a watery death with blind ambition
Yet ,  we are also creativity trapped in religious admonition
Miracles discombobulated , manipulated
Named , taught , placed on a board with our heads facing the floor
Following a pre-plotted map with the robotic horde* ...

The old and the diseased have fallen
They're moving forward , on a carpet of needles
I lay among seedlings and sage grass ,
among the dead , among winter hay
In the throes of death , at the windy command ,
broken and bereft along the malignant forest I lay
Commanded by time do I lay
Bound for new birth woodland to lie in wait ,
Content , I will lay**–– ...

I scored thirty two points playing basketball while you were drunk ! I'm sure your only infatuation was more 120 proof poison !  I was merely a teenage punk ! Money spent on food , clothing , medicine plus other useless junk when alcohol was the Golden Bull , a tonic to obliterate the duties of a father , something you never could get enough of , a liquid that took precedence over every other item in your view of the world ! You bled the checkbook dry every week , slaughtered the spirit of your children over something to drink ! Rocking in your chair , grandkids treating you like a God , you ran your own children into the ground ! Alcohol is a weakness , not a sickness , who could reach for a wolf then wonder why they've been bitten ?

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

One Saturday I found myself in Atlanta at an 'Art Show'
I became far more interested in the chaps cleaning the windows* ..

They think I'm happy because I whistle
Label me naive because I sing to myself sometimes
Stupid ******* people* ..

O , what I would give for a Quarter Horse ,
to visit the lowland of Camp Creek , just the two of us
She would carry me o'er the terraces of misty Hill Country
We circumnavigate Port Lake , we cross lush estates , mingle
in blackberry rows and scuppernong arbors , stop by unnamed ,
unknown old barns on a lark , gallop along country roads till dark
O , what I could explore with a Quarter Horse , to pass the time
of day , just the two of us* ...

Rain colder than the word no
Into wind revealed painful secrets I go
Across sheets of lightning induced anxiety ,
through 'Downdays' filled with rumbling thunder
insecurity and finality* ...

His one shot incubus
Delirium tremen instigation
Where we all fall through Hell together then pretend we're unchanged
Promising young candles facing the rain
Finding one's passion mixed with vile in the bottom of a trash can
Perpetuating 'next door neighbor normality' the next day once again* ...

Stark crow chortle
Through umber forest sprinkled with golden portals
Within blackberry rows -
To touch creations morning glow
To meld open grass with a waning moon
To discern tears from rain
Addiction , dominion from pain
Wrapped in blue blankets
In honeysuckle crown
Oakdale maidens , Port Lake dancers
Pine straw slowly drowns
Where life and death abound
Where a thousand songbirds mingle
with a thousand woodland , Summer sounds* ...