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

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'* ...

Everyone continued to laugh at me
There was no place to hide with no way to leave
the "protected environment"
I prayed that the Principal , the Teacher and
the instigators would die
To this day I wonder if my supplications
were ever applied* .....

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

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

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*..

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

Governments have relied on 'fake news' since Hannibal
crossed the Alps* ...

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

My Sun in absentia today , my presence unneeded at the Tree of Life , I cried myself to sleep last night ..I recognized a set of eyes that belonged to a pig on the slaughter line.. They were mine ..

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* ...

Gray day rooster
Alert and noble
Perched on a chestnut
Calling his flock to order ...

                                                            ­                                                       Ramblin' ole mule , braying in -
the briars
Grazing in the smoke of the -
new morning fire ...

Curious Mister Billy , tromping through the fodder
His cowbell echoes in the dew kissed holler* ...

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 ?"

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

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

Flavors of blackberry ,
of muscadine and persimmon ,
of brine collecting at the trunk of
tall oaks
Flesh salted in wild abandon
Lovers feasting upon air ,
upon one another along the
marsh , the shrieks of conclusion
borne of March
Naked receiver , child of April
Call o'er cattail , sawgrass and -
Savannah dancer* ..

All my best for those who now befriend me for you shall learn to hate me with great fervor* ....

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

Wind chimes jingling
North gales singing
Evergreens swaying
Bob Jitters misbehaving

Warming the hives
Shoveling the drive
Tapping a maple
Hot cakes on the table

A stone across the river
The sound of a smith in winter
Skates on the mill pond
Hoecake in the courtyard

"Irreplaceable employees" are replaced the day after
they're interred ..

Tarry night tickles my soul for the blackness signals the poet to assume control
To expose and color with crayons unknown
To throw the layman dog a bone
I cherish the faculties of my twilight muse
To blend and wield sickness and sorcery in any manner I choose* ..

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* ...

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* ....

Crickets , sweet crickets
They ne'er skip a beat
O' Crickets , melodious crickets
Sing a whippersnapper to sleep

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

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* ..

Which skin color will appeal to -
everyone* ?

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* ...

If your protesting violence with violent action
your spinning your wheels with no hope of traction

I'm the little boy watching John Wayne movies
working on a Charms lollypop
I'm the five year old playing "Vietnam" with
a stick running along a creek in the back yard
I'm Neil Armstrong , Jimi Hendrix and Charles Manson
The Smothers Brothers , Dark Shadows and Captain Kangaroo
The iconic smiling face , the peace sign and the Farrah Fawcett t-shirt
Watergate , the Flintstones and Mr Ed
I'm Skylab , the men on the moon and 911
I'm Obama , Carter , Nixon and Reagan
I'm a pipe wrench working on the American Dream
A water **** passed among friends
A gung-** service member
A fifty year old mess
A Mad magazine , an ever changing book explaining taxes ,
disability and the future loss of medical insurance
I'm better left alone most days , eyes locked forward at twenty feet tending to problems such as tall grass , ***** windows , tarnished brass
A mailbox in need of paint , fire ant mounds , dead leaves scattered along the ground* ...

I am most assuredly an ex- chicken farmer , musician , 'poetician' and renowned front porch bullshitter* ..

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

Elizabeth Taylor perfume battled a spent .38 caliber
shell casing , ten o'clock coffee singed on the eye , country music -
playing on a cable station with the side door opened to -
the March night
Radios crackling , blinding red and blue lights
Curious neighbors , howling dogs , quiet chatter
Dad became a routine suicide on a police blotter* ...

A half eaten Hershey bar beside a full ashtray
Nervous ticks with an eight ball of fury , so we digress again
My breath , the gust of wind that instigated a
typhoon in Saipan
Rainwater at my door containing a tear from a
child in Bangladesh
A ray fighting its way through the clouds
a half hour before sunset
The cocksure tightrope performer working without
a net , shooting at the stars with a hand pistol , thumb
drawn back
My forgiving nature and tolerance under it's nightly attack

In the wee hour of morn I find myself
beginning to 'break'
Mind feverishly trying to escape the
chain of flesh , as if sanity were being
tested , creativity divested
Seven notes are typically not enough , twenty six
symbols in myriad groupings , white
noise confusion , in control illusions
A dump truck filled with crush and run -
dripping water on a lonesome road
Crumbling walls laden with Block Mason -
indiscretions vying for a sin removing -
coat of cheap paint
A telephone pole supported by wiring swinging
in midair , drunk on depression pills catching
my gaze in cheap artwork , narcoleptic days
Clabbered milk thrown to the hogs , nightmare
K-9 dogs unable to be explained
My friend the wind at the window with no one to play
Bright eyes refuse to focus when the child forgets their way

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

Silver raindrops bounce from top
to ground , yellow bells dance to
the rainstorm sounds
A postman makes his delivery , cars
crash into puddles in the showered scenery ,
hounds bray in the mid-morning rush ,
jays cackle from the mulberry bush
A young sun peeks then hides away ,
hopefully blooming in full candor on another day* ..

The 'lantern flies' were actually the paratroopers of war
descending onto the ground I was sworn to protect
Jesus laughed out loud , hot boxed a final drag off a Pall
Mall cigarette , flicked it into a minefield where it exploded
in every direction
I fired at the Moon from every position
Begged the night to come to an end
Woke up in a room destroyed , fired rounds
into blackness till the weapon jammed , patrolled
my field of fire from a window till the Sun kicked in*....

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

Choosing the path of least resistance , commanding the stormy sky of night
Coriolis's daughter at the curve of
the Earth , spinning magnetic time
from the center of mankind's turbulent
world* ......

Song Filled Hour ....

a gullible **** in the watermelon patch
expecting to tower and live life among the others -
with hope of musical days , curious , a bit embarrassed -
lit up in late morning Sun
quickly shaded , protected by the burgeoning populace -
of kindred spirits he assumed were friends , befuddled -
with their ultimate height and fruition , something which -
he wanted so bad
but the "wanted" overtook his sky , leaving him -
quite maligned , uncreative and ready to die , returned to the fertile -
Earth as a lesson for the 'labeled' in the month of May ,
a parable of our short lives , minority days among 'the -
chosen' , disenfranchised from the all powerful Vine*  ..

Self professed trees surgeons , insurance agents , water damage  "consultants ! "  Jack leg carpenters , news crews , would be electricians , handymen and " rubber neckers ! " The fly into town , apparently in the first wave of the storms ferocious winds , perusing  potential customers for quick cash , price gouging courtesy of shade tree operators ! They stand by their brand new gas gulping pickups , smiling and self absorbed like they're doing you a favor ! If it wasn't for the tornado scattering my possessions , I would fire rock salt directly into your *** without reservation ! This may seem like a " backward Hick town " with thick southern accents , old pickups and overalls !  Your true intent is quickly visible , your " modus operandi " is quite evident , if your still here at Dusk kind Sir , may your God be with you !

The Sunday paper comes twirling out of a passenger window
Stealthy Deer are watching my Snow Peas with binoculars from a distant terrace
New Hampshire hens announce their morning eggs , Yorkshire piglets attempt to awaken , roll over instead
The Christians are off to early service , the agnostics are
working on their lawn tractors , the atheist are glued to
Good Morning America and the farmers and I have already been
up four hours

My early mornings are akin to warm Carrot Cake
I consume them wolfishly then lick the plate* ..

a skeleton key to the coffers of-
the pineywood panacea ..
a granite stone skipped across-
cool creek water ..
to whitetails concurring with-
the morning fires of October ..
to mechanical leviathans sojourned-
in prickly winter ..
to brown sugar fields in frosted glitter ..
for an audience of blackbirds in naked-
hardwoods , the crashing cymbals of Enumclaw-
across Chattahoochee river bottoms , the
tapestry of purple flowers in rested ploughland ,
to ancient peoples born , stood , tested and long since -                    
passed..

Thanks to everyone that travelled to Panama City with me this week ..

A bridal crown of gardenias , wild coneflower and daisy speckle
her grassy domain as dairy cattle silently graze white washed boundaries of wood , rusted nail and hog wire .. Branch laden silver gray Water Oaks dusted with Spanish moss , cerulean Valdosta ceilings with pink , periwinkle horizons .. Bradford pears grace country lanes to the West , bound for raspberry Dusk , in settled rural scenery .. Shore bird silhouettes led home by a golden Moon across the marsh ...

When Father Sunshine sleepily slips away
I reach to the corner of the earth and pull the-
veil over another day
A punctual Jay sings of the joys of May
In honor of gourmet feast , acorn and berry ,-
Dancing under the boxelder
A ballet with kindred spirits atop pleasant , Hill-
Country hay
The musicians ode to jovial eves , red clay lanes , -
the rest till morrow , the creak of the vanes and warm Spring-
ways ....

The midnight fires of early April
Fueled with Chinook winds , tended
on the hour ..
Oak smoke canopies obliterating
my vernal stars , choking visible breath ,
rushing into Camp creek lowlands ..
Shadow spirits growing taller with
each feeding , trudging lit furrows ..
" Heat your row , learn you garden ,
toil in Spring , reap at harvest .."