Smashing boots on doors,
splinters fall like rain.
Smashing boots on doors,
children feel the pain.
Smashing boots on doors,
granny's years of age.
Smashing boots on doors,
Mom and Dad in rage.
Smashing boots on doors,
panic sets the stage.
Smashing boots on doors,
Iraqi freedom fades.
Smashing boots on doors,
like thunder in a storm.
Smashing boots on doors,
an innocent family torn.
Smashing boots on doors,
a brand new hatred born.

RW Dennen  (c)  11/24/09

He and she walk alone so young.
So young he and she are.
Without another's tender touch
and tender kisses.
Being without a loving, caring other;
expressions desolved by war.
They're still in the desert
guarding buddies.
They're still in war-torn towns.
So young they are.
Behind every house door lurks
an unseen enemy.
Every crevice in their home-sweet-home,
a hidden device.
Every patch of an American road
hidden IED'S.
Every turn,every corner,every glance,every walk,
Every position, for some, a hand gun hidden in his
or her belt.
So well they learned their craft.
Their home vehicles are now Hummvees.
Their towns are now
the unfriendly and foreign Middle East.
They walk alone,these ANGRY ISLANDS,
unto themselves they are...

RW Dennen

Shadows
  and warm hearts.
Evening whispers
   in gentle staccato;
breaking silence
  Lips upon lips
enchanted warmth; rushing of lust.
  Further entrenchment with
entwining flesh upon flesh.
  Our heated breathing;
the nirvana of sweetened glandular
  Aphordite's love-perfume.
My heat against your heat,
  climaxing into passion's hard embrace.
Embraced by Dionysus into
life-death-death-life dance.
We soul-swim in warm waters...

RW Dennen (c)  11/24/09

Warm oozy-melted words
  over tangy heated
saucy sentences.
  Poetry of crunchy
crusted rhythms.
  Scattered mushrooms
and pepperoni characters
  I eat hearty my poetry in pizza...

RW Dennen  ( c) 12/27/09

These are human tears
I say,I say.
They're down my cheeks they roll
and baptize away my past
feelings suppressed.

These tears of sometimes joy or sadness
and everlasting human connections, connecting to my
inner worlds exposing outward revelations.
These revelations through my saline
liquid rushing down my cheeks;
soaked from my reddened eyes.

These my friend are feelings
both good and bad, these liquid representations
of hurt and gain
and of both joy and pain.

Existential to the core my eyes
do show my dripping soaked Windows
of my soul...

RW Dennen (c) 4/29/2010

GOD IS ENERGY

Energy moves

Movement is life

Life is God

GOD IS ENERGY...


RW Dennen

Colorado,Colorado,
I wish I was in Colorado.
Where  puffers stand in line
to have a good-old-time.

I wish you were in Colorado
and puff away your blues,
and have a restful snooze.

Where people laugh
out loud and make their puffers' cloud.

And people stop and stare
into thought provoking air,
and talk about the deeper things
in life.

Sensuous summer fills
my mind
between my munchies
all the time.
My tastebuds shout in glee
with popcorn near my reach
and soda made of peach.

Colorado, Colorado,
I hear you callin' me
forget about that tree
of good and evil be.
And smoke away-at times-
those nasty nursery rhymes
cramped between
folders made of black.

Colorado,Colorado,
I wish I was in Colorado
to get a mountain high.
Where puffers' stand in line
to have a good-old-time...

Since not allowed to light
we're allowed to write:
"Let the **** reign forever"