The becalming music of night
Glittering sailboats amidst glorious starlight

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* ...

Pour the moon upon this netherworld
Like white plaster dripping from tall trees ,
may it pool at the base of evergreens
May it form streams illuminating the nighttime world
Bringing mans trepidations to light
May it drown pain and suffering tonight
Pour the moon upon my world* ...

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

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

Warm coffee and dates on a-
wintry winding , mountain lane , blackberry etchings , trembling firs shroud morning trains , first day lit lanes peek through blue panes ..
Honkers in hollers beside a rumbling 76 beacon gripped-
in the perfume of turned sorghum , rusty brooks beside a -
leaf laden lot , peanuts swirl their delicious dance-
in a cast iron *** ..
Standing at her cue , locked in-
a spiritual , bankside daydream , Marny blue , butterscotch Kathryn-
wintergreen Gert and Sweetgum Zoey weathervanes ..
A cloak and dagger scheme with tall shadows ,
empty pecan trees and vivid bellicose themes ,
foggy hillside scenes , where hope and implausibility -
convene to do battle with todays pipe dreams  ...

I've become the best musician , poet and song writer I've ever known in this six hundred square foot sheltered world where I live , write and perform* ...

The Crows will soon cackle after confiding in
a Myna Bird* ....

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 ..

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* ..

Do you see the caricatures neath the full moon pines
The ghost of General McIntosh , spirits of Creek hunters along
the river brush
Old Timers whittling song flutes from bottom cane
Farrier's shoeing mules , work horses straining at the
crack of the whip , ferryboats treading shoals across the
foggy Flint
The voices of children in one room schoolhouses
The rousing , morning bell of little towns , the clap
of field wagons
A fiddler sawing a piedmont 'Rag'
The rustle of picking field peas with Croaker bags

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

Feeling borrowed , colorless
Thumbing through a Family Bible
Like pressed flowers , ancient stories
long forgotten
A black and white lady with a sad
expression , eyes that've lost their
direction
I wonder what she would say about 2016
The same thoughts I'd have on 2063
Did she write rhyme to keep her mind nimble
If rain was understanding was it ever enough to fill a thimble
Hopefully my picture will provide temporary diversion for a future family member

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

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* ...

Pleading for routine
For the same breakfast from -
the same restaurant
The exact booth , the perfect
parking spot
2.5 miles home , waiting to leave
my vehicle till all traffic passed
Black coffee , orange juice , CNN
Triangular blue pill , folding work shirts
with no place to go ,
Closing blinds , cursing friends , letting
telephones ring
Writing verse , fighting guilt , planning my
next meal , crushing needed relief to
satisfy this ******* memory
Lighting creativity , forming complicated guitar
parts , locking doors* ...

Tea , clover honey with screaming plans for
the morrow
Sorrow , urban sorrows
To disappear as a tom into the woodland
No tracks for the huntsman , the taxman nor the sharpshooter
Decadent , fur coated , remorseless Atlantans
A countryside spartan , an archer shooting prayers into the rural night , a mortal simpleton beyond measure , lunatics obsessed with the forty hour work week hidden treasure !!!  They die everyday , drop like rocks , their story encapsulated , chiseled on a marble block
Something for the gardner to **** eat
Faded paper flowers , fire ants in the pea gravel
The pre-planned life of another worker bee committed to earth that no one cares to celebrate or unravel
******* time clock , ******* office politics , **** the idiot you're training to become your boss , **** the mans silk suits and his cashmere socks

Old pictures , intrinsic keepsakes inside a silver box
No room for me inside , no place to stay and hide* ..

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

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*....

Writing about a wavering voice
As if I had a choice
A petulant songbird tale on the wind
We're praying for the night to come to an end* ....

I've such pronounced sadness -
during the holidays
I pray the winter season-
will quickly fade away* ....

The yard dotted with private ponds begat from Summer rain
Each pool a Universe filled with life we've yet to -
discover or even comprehend* ....

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* ....

All my connections are dry
Just like bugs working street lights in vain
Arms folded over my chest hoping to -
slow my angry heart
A script without a thespian to play the part
The candle succumbing , drowning in
liquid wax
Mind under four sided attack
Boxcars without engines lie dead on the tracks* ....

Song Filled Hour ...


Magenta archangel
Answer this prayer with lantern fly
light , barn owl night call and whippoorwill
chantey
Sing to me ....

The award ceremonies , the medals and the decorations
The knighting's , the letters of recognition and the beatification's
A Generals promotion , the associations , the fund raising dinners and the wealth of nations , the Kings and the Queens , the presidents , the dictators
I defy anyone to name a government that has eliminated homelessness , brutality , discrimination , the plight of refugees of war or starvation* ..

Money and labor for walls separating nations could build gigantic
kitchens and dining areas for thousands of homeless , undernourished
men , women and children ...
A place of hope in every major city in America , a living monument
to address the immediate need of every person ...
We're imploding hotels to build skyscrapers when one building could help take care of many , many desparate people lying in the street , living the nightmare of homelessness , the people that are brushed aside like ******* on the boulevard , the people we drive by and try to forget ...
The people that are fed on Thanksgiving and Christmas only to be forgotten , left to fend for themselves the remainder of the year !

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

Do harbor love for chatty Mockingbirds
Lead vocal of the Piney-wood , carrying
the news o'er the red hills , the peanut
farm and blue water grist mill
An audible question from the first morning
Chickadee , a quick retort from a Cardinal
in a Mimosa tree , sail the tepid current
mighty Blue Heron as Cottontails quietly feed the
Red Clover shelf , chirping Bobwhite graze withered , October
corn as iron vanes portend the coming of the Blueridge storms

Minuscule oceans signal
The sun plays on the run
The equality of night , music of-
confused songbirds an brushing pine
Evening teardrops collect their prize
Damming the lame as well as the chastised
Whirlpools , swift green spirals
Charming the aware , the compliant ,
the mesmerized and the medicated , a
breathless survivor

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* ...

I am a vehicle shackled to land yearning for the journey home
Through times open doors
Before windows of curiosity
At the base of galactic mountains
Within lights brilliant disclosure of love* ...

Curious Brown Thrasher songbird
How I long for your window to the
world , traveling Hill country with wings unfurled , skipping from hardwood to evergreen with songs of splendid countryside scenes

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

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* ..

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

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

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 .."

Sky seeker , tall wonder with carnation red cloak
Doomed bush vermin , cornered red oaks braced in the treetop shadow
Strolling tearful wire-grass purple meadow
Copper thicket avenues tinged in nutmeg swirl
Mellow voices from the songbird world
Faces within Sugar Pines , white mountains
in Alabama sky , the eye of God in newborn
western twilight , the breath of cool salvation ,
quickening , trembling , addressing , correcting
The door led to the heavens opened , the hall of
our galaxy exposed , the untold wealth of starlight
tending our burden with unrecognized answers ,
the meandering whirligig movements of my time continue predestined

I can turn you into any color I want
Tell of your movements whether they're true
or not
Remark before the fourth estate as to your location devoid of daylights
affirmation
Report such lies to a gullible nation
Make a pact with the devil
Refrain the seas of change from seeking their level
Render a new book of morality from fable
Order my soldiers to shoot you dead from under the table* ..

Benevolent -brash brat of a boy-kicked in the nuts by your peers again-, writing about anguish with a goose quill pen , slurping on a ice cream sandwich , mocking the government , your monthly stipend creates disdain in your families blue collar frame of mind and your peers ? ******* rubbed on papyrus , palm ashes smeared on your buttocks , tempting a petulant son , so I heard a little bird sitting high in a dead Oak tree , telling tall tales about your Fathers impropriety , killing you even after you were already dead , as if you were never really born , not in the physical sense mind you but worse , in the grand theater of the mind , where everyone has a ticket to the inaugural performance , everybody you've ever run away from out of loathing or due to abject horror and fear of their disapproval , sitting on the front row , knowing **** good and well that your reading your lines from a cue card held by your shrink at the local VA , the can't look me in the face look like all the girls give you , the ones that twist being a gentlemen into a play for their affections , women tell tall tales at times , men are even worse , acting on their self righteousness by slaughtering the runt of the herd before the others ..Epilogue , the credits are running , just like the palpitations , into the woods so as not to create a sensation , away from the stage and the examination , back to your little tinder box on the edge of suburbia !