elastic synapses bring me back
momentarily
before projecting future visions
across the landscape of my mind’s eye
youthful vigor and swaying pines
sage wafting across the high desert
at sunset –
my heart yearns to return home
to a place it has never lived
but always loved
broken feldspar littered
juniper and jackrabbits
in January –
rusted jalopy rattles down
pumas pathways
seeking the young buck
recently free from velvet
hunger tempering the shot
starving children
create a year-round season –
lost in time
wagon wheels still rest along wind beaten fences
tumbleweeds build mountains
along the west side
of run down shacks
the vestibule of the cottontail
the vestige of a forgotten age –

misrepresenting my joy quotient
as it seems I am living in a dumpster
coated with grime and debris
yesterday’s banana peelings
moldy coffee grounds
act like pepper flakes in my teeth
unshorn and raggedy
ripped jeans soot covered…..
it’s just not the case
as my cup
runnith over –
it is east of easy to ease into elation
at least for me
so when I find myself brooding
I embrace the experience
as an artist
as a sculptor
as a balanced human….
As I have a theory:
every atom that creates energy
which is anything in the known universe…
is made up of both positively
and negatively
charged particles
these particles are in balance
or the whole thing falls apart
(see nuclear fusion and fission)…..
therefore,
in order to be a balanced human
we must embrace both the positive
and negative aspects of life….
this marries itself to the idea
perception is reality
and what you perceive as
negative
for another,
might be the bee’s knees
in their eyes…..
which means all balance
is based off personal interpretation
or good or bad
plus or minus
positive or negative…
but Sam, what does this mean?
if it feels wrong to you, don’t do it….
if it feels right, do it…..
so long as these actions do not interfere
with choices of the other humans
you are guaranteed
heaven on earth –

I have lately been ending many social media postings with this gem:
But seriously, what the **** do I know –

olive drab down-filled vest
shaking every single hand
speaking only of great success

hair never askew or messed
discussing a long-term plan
olive drab down-filled vest

information presented is never guessed
education is the stump he stands
speaking only of great success

the life he leads is truly blessed
though, the new climate is killing his tan
olive drab down-filled vest

never a time for being underdressed
when becoming an Oregon man
speaking only of great success

bringing to our program some Louisiana zest
Oregon seems an interesting place to land
olive drab down-filled vest
speaking only of great success

panic
sweat
palpitations
the future comes in 2 weeks and I am not prepared
eyes dart seeking fixed points
only blurred lines shine back
attacking sanity
slowly
last words flow
presenting the last graded goal
satin accomplishments
cord of a distinguished nature
fronting flat black and pride
what comes after
after the accolades
fanfare
kudos
after its over and I am human again
instead of a research machine bent on the Dean’s list
will I remember freedom
self
joy
can I reconnect to my family
after years of isolation
will they accept me
with B.S. behind my name

T’was planet X that passed one night
Giving the people awful fright
So bright and red
Knew we’d all be dead
And somehow that’d be alright

It flew with glowing red horns
Early one bright springtime morn
Symbolizing death
Like children on ****
Or married men looking at ****

Sending comets and asteroids to earth
One large one took out ole Perth
So many have died
And the ones left just cried
As if we had all been cursed by Firth

For years we felt the debris
Like in autumn the falling of leaves
But these always burn
And we never learn
To at least try to hide under the eaves

So humanity faded away
Over the course of 200 days
Life came to an end
From the original sin
If only we had known how to pray….

~
reeds jut skyward
like spears in the hands of marching soldiers
below, rank mud squishes underfoot
we creep as near to silent as possible

crossing rusted strands of barbed wire
we enter private and protected ponds
with ninja stealth we take position
crouched in bramble
we cast thin line delicately into the void

slight tremors find my eager fingertips
as insomniac bass feel for tasty treats
slimy lips extend and inhale
******* worm and hook deep inside

my father snaps his fingers twice
the sound of a job well done
I feel his strong hand grip my shoulder
and look back to see his toothy grin
shine in the moonlight  /

Garibaldi with a hot tub
Dear friends and chilled drinks
As we celebrate another harvest in the books
And the comradery shared
The double dozen produced
Like nobody’s business  
Leaving with a bumper and the potential
To fast forward two years of payments

Another Baileys and ice for me, thanks

Soft footfalls in the hallway
Another flavor to savor the way that your
Grandmother asked you to chew longer
In the autumn on the veranda…. Or whatever:
I crack the jar and am met with a blast
Fresh smelling, properly cured,
Green, and beautiful
Did I mention effective?
we puff and pass and laugh
sharing these moments of triumph
enjoying each other’s company
on a clear and cool night
along the Oregon Coast –

hyped blood moon leaves me longing
no doom, no massive uprising
just another day
so many times the end of humanity
has reared its head
only to falter
when the day actually comes along
who among us remembers Elenin –
it is only through the revisiting of ancient ways
that we stand to exist beyond the horizon
returning to experiencing oneness with the natural world
as a part of instead of a steward too or protector therein
Carlin calls it ego, but I think stupidity
holds humanity at sway
thinking less pollution can somehow fix the Pacific
except fallout has been a part of that sea
since the late 1940’s –
no one looks to the Lorax
or even Woodsy the Owl
instead focusing on the little green head
on dollar bills…
pill popping beer swillers killing the planet
while claiming to be the smartest and greatest nation..
my patience is running out –
doubtful change can happen through human interaction
I wait for the earth to rid itself of this virus
massive tectonic upheaval
super storms
lice….
we all gonna die,
and it will be all our fault –

mildew coated leaves lay atop the cool ground
torn asunder and left to rot
no longer the object of attention
or affection
its fruit, long since eaten
and shat out
barely a memory –
disorganized vines hold but a few yellowish tomatoes
not above the ground, no… but by the thinnest of stems
browning in the autumn air
lackluster weeding becomes the norm
as storm season approaches ….
what is more lonely and despondent
than a garden 3 weeks after harvest –

Flippantly, I stroll unencumbered
absentmindedly watching the clouds shift
both in direction and form
much like the movement within these words
never sure in which direction they may turn
even now anticipation mounts
as expectations soar
……..sadly
I have nothing to say –

trailing with head hanging
he loosely held a furry leg
dangling childhood
ear in the dirt
it was a popsicle
had him lagging
more specifically
not having a popsicle
had him lagging
our backwards glances
feeding young misery
the occasional grumble
and sigh
as smooth round stones
rolled past our dusty feet /

I think about you often
   while I sit at work
considering your skin, so soft, and
    that I needn’t be a ****
you loving ways that keep my warm
    on any chill dark night
and yet I greet you with rage and scorn
    driving us to fight
why must I be such a silly fool
    and you my perfect muse
I try to place you on a pedestal
     but instead meet you with abuse
my loudest voice and flailing arms
    causing such a scene
promising never to physically harm
   only to cuss and scream
and though these instances are rare
    barely often enough to warrant
they still drive me to despair
    grief becomes a cascading torrent
for it is my desire to be the best
    man ever in your life
one that stands out from all the rest
     gives you joy in calling yourself wife –

I have a request for you :)

I am starting my MFA in creative writing this up-coming Fall and would very much like input on ways to improve my writing. I know that for the most part we are a loving group prone to show only care and compassion (at least that is my experience) but I would truly like to have some constructive criticism or even some editing ideas.


Thank you all so much and please, wish me luck!

The thesis for the program is to have a manuscript ready for publication and 4 of the advisors have direct links to publishing companies....I have rarely felt this much excitement!

~
hazel eyes rest languid
   soft clarinet jazz blows far away
                    smooth skin beacons calloused hands

mini-blinds separate yellow street lamp light
casting patterned shadows
       our mixed class
                       mingles with
                                the last tenants sweat and musk

sticky fumbling on a stained sheet
   while the bass line plays low
mouths pass but never touch
        forgoing intimacy
                     bent on the finish line

rumpled stockings in the moonlight
    lay below a lipstick stained wine glass

all that she left
       colored the room rose    /

moldy socks stuck to the grime covered floor
hold my attention momentarily
lost in thought, scrambled
I wander from room to room
looking for misplaced memories
pictures of you in the sun –
retaliation against the bloodbath
leaves the young admonished
sent before the tribunal
judged by skin tone
and pronunciation of hard vowels sounds –
enraged caged beasts cease peace
fleeced pieces of feces resist change
instead hardening and shedding color
petrified putridity permeates the ponderosa
floating on a sea of geologic waste
the sandy shoreline smiles at the scene –
endgame fascists brooding over equality talk
sit Indian style, calling it “criss-cross”
so as not to offened
wait for the moment in which they are able to **** indiscriminate
those deemed less or inferior
pancake batter dried to the edge of fine china
dog hair gracing Chanel handbags
**** in frocks frolic in the farm fresh
air
for pennies –
***** jokes dot the comic strip
leaving children confused and aroused
immorality gains traction
with its studded tires and studly physique
sturdy in its placement
stable in the den –
awash with idealism
indigents scrap infected scabs
looking under for answers
finding only diseased blood –

dirt and dust
encircling a sea
painted ******* and wooden masks
stand out
and instantly fade
as the slow march around the eight
fills the sunny weekend –
fifteen stages from spoken word to belly dancing
dubsteppers mingle with dead heads
and the mushrooms flow
like wine –
It’s been seven years since the hippies
proved to me capitalism is the greatest sin
and yet I find myself drawn back
pulled by familial remembrances
and the overwhelming feeling
of being welcomed home –
This year marks the beginning, again
third times the charm…
of my acquaintanceship and relation too
the Oregon Country Fair
and when I close my eyes
and tell myself the truth,
I am excited and happy
to be going back home. –

she hides behind lies
crying eyes try to smile
lost in a world of ghosts
and love, conditional
from across the room
I feel an energy shift
as the imagined pressure
hits critical
once again we have liftoff
followed by irritation and excuses
bad feelings and emotional strain
and for what…..
a few lines of silliness
pasted to a social media network
deflating friendships
with guile and pizazz

I read some songs
written down
      by sweet Emily
they seemed to short,
                            and some to long
and none were best to me

I read each line
………….bated breath,
seeking for a sign
to my surprise
      and some dismay
                all she did was whine

using form
     meter and rhyme
can only      go so far
when your subject matter
                                              is so much sadder
than……. a shooting star

songs of death
…………….some of despair
lament and sadness; ad nauseam
I think more life
could be found
in a Roman coliseum…

but who am I
to take this stand
when she,         a master,                                  waits………….
I do not fly,
am just a man
      attempting to impersonate
               the greats

so pay no mind
and take no heed
                         as your legacy is safe
even if
for me, personally
……
……
……
you make my eyeballs chafe –

**** near enough torque to bust a motor mount
little pig contorted her body
and sneered a smile
soundless barks
mouthed
she wiggled backwards all the way to the couch
turned, took a breath,
and went right back to wiggling –
rescue mutt
lab **** cut and pasted on a bull dog
front end
looking like a 73 Barracuda
***-end way up high…
little spots above her eyes
reddish in the sunlight
show Rottweiler markings
so, at best, she is a three way fat head…
picked her up with the name Gunther,
for a little girl dog…. –
We called her Gunny
but almost instantly
she became a wiggle pig
a gunny pig bear
and the great spazzgunno…
never have I owned a better ****** –

I sit holding my aching head in calloused hands
experiencing ‘forlorn’
a worn soul aged beyond the calendar
dreary eyes look upon the state of humanity
irradiated babies trading rabies with deviants
live on pay per view
seeing the shape of famous faces
manipulated flesh blankly posed
only desperate oculars show the truth
darting frantically form mirror to mirror
attempting to validate existence through reflection
but not like the monks in Tibet
regret fills bent cheekbones
spackled with Botox and raspberry jam
thinning peak aligns with the occasional grey strand
and I sit wishing only to see people love themselves

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]
*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Sitting at the window staring at sliding rain
I mentally slip on the proverbial banana peel

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Floating deeper into consciousness’s backwater
I ponder the reflection of a mirror in the lake

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Looking down at shoeless feet fraught with fear
I turn to run, only to find cell bars, box cars, sticky jars, and the planet  Mars

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

Momentarily, my movement meanders making me
a microcosm of mankind’s malady…another Monday morning

*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]
*** *** ba dum dump da dum *** ba dum dum
                      /\                        /\                                /\
                  [snap]                 [snap]                         [snap]

I will

never

be microchipped,


even if

I

am ostracized.

The little pup sat near the log
And looked over at a small greenish frog
He gave it a lick
And then felt quite sick
And heading off to the bog

At the bog he ran into a hog
Who had a jar of delicious eggnog
They both had a drink
Then spit in the sink
Which instantly started to clog

They both sat with mouths just agog
Like that time in the ole Synagogue
When the Rabbi said “shoot”
and then let out a toot
That smelled like that stinky old bog

Well the hog and the frog with the dog
Ran away from the stank Synagogue
All the way to the bay
For some sunshine in may
And all sat upon a well-traveled log

I am not here for accolades
hearts, notifications, messages
this place is a way to develop
hone skills and become better
I appreciate the love
but would rather have
real editing interactions
based on critically critiquing
and attempting to re-create ourselves
into the greats of tomorrow…. or today –
I find it difficult
to read piece after piece
love poem after love poem
discrediting my landscape
though so much fodder
very few truly grab my attention
and in complete honesty
the first 5 lines decide if I continue my read –
I am a poet
lamenting, sullen, fixated on despair
enthralled by beauty
natural and interpersonal
devastated by incompleteness
and ……..
it would be nice to hit 50 followers ;)

Oh, smile…
Why do you evade me?
Trump is just a man,
and the presidency is largely
a puppet position….
The boy is twenty and working
he desires to live on his own
soon it will just be the wife and I
living the dream…
my old dog has given me thirteen
wonderful years
unconditionally loving me
even if I was a bad owner early on
even if he had cheap food
while I will miss him,
this is not the first pet I have lost…..
oh, smile!
Why must I seek you?
Forever you have just been the constant
my most faithful accompanist
as if I were blessed to be happy
as life passes by….
lately, you evade me….
I feel your momentary and fleeting
presence
just long enough for me to remember
you live here….
I am sure it is the same
with any traveler
when you tire
of globetrotting
you will return, and I,
I will wear you proudly once again,
Oh, smile!

the softness of her tone
     woos like a June moon

tuned-in I swoon on the
     damp sand dune

shrooming, foolishly, my ungroomed
      face shown true

proving our love
    would ne’er move to blue

a golden pontoon flew through
    rolling hills covered with dew

green shoots and fruiting foliage
      wild thistle and overgrown
            Scotch Broom

crooning to you, awe struck by the
      view I lose my pants, shirt,
               and shoes

soon, while a few butterflies
      settle on a nearby pear-blossom
            of blue

our eyes and smiles meet
      as we consider what next
            to do

all the while I think,
       “I’ll be happy as long as I am with you.”

parental idealism
and information sought
bucking the family traditions
or embracing long-held values
our first break from individualism
is being born into a pre-existing structure..
well-defined gender lines
and sublime reminders of the familial crest
through dinnertime blessings and dressing
in your Sunday best..
t ’is a tie, we find
seeking the second in line
winding through the mind of the bound concubine
eternally enslaved for simply misbehaving
the charade (long A) displays a case
for race mixing and fixing the broken capitalist system
as either the church of choice
or privately funded institutions
publically traded on wall street
take the reins and betray a nation
by infecting the most manipulation-able citizens
and treating them with poisonous nutrients
and filling open and willing minds
with lies about Jesus and George Washington
brain-washing them
embalming them
condemning them
to slow death….
before considering bringing
another human into this system
re-examine everything you have been told


……………………………….the advice truly is sound –

que the soft pipe ***** music in the background

dearly beloved
we gather here this day
this day
but 24 short hours
we could go into minutes and seconds
but it trivializes the point
ladies and gentlemen
we give this day
to the earth –
sustainer and bringer forth of all life as we know it
have a day.
every breath
each sip of water
any morsel of nourishment
any of us ever had
throughout all of humankind
have a day
the bacteria in our guts
the viruses in our noses
the plants
the fish and fowl
mammals and reptiles
have a day.
a day…….
tomorrow we **** you again
tomorrow we smash your peaks for metals
tomorrow we gouge into you with spikes
        to draw out your very essence
                 for cars
tomorrow we tear away your covering
      your forests and wet lands
              for materialism
tomorrow we **** on you
tomorrow we fight against you
tomorrow we poison you
but, today, we honor you….
have a day,
earth –
later I will walk through your gift
I will smell spring flowers and think of you
forest paths will come alive with your sounds
and I will smile
I will hold you in my hands
breath you in
and shed a tear
over a day….
earth, we thank you
today
earth, we honor you
today
earth we love you
today
earth
today
a day for you –

someone nudge Martha….she’s got her hearing aid down
shut that **** ***** music off ……


listen people,
gather round close
we are running out of time
and the earth
its gonna need a bit more than a day
like, forever
we are going to have to think a little
about sustainability
our place within the larger ecosystem
we can’t survive without earth
we can’t……
won’t you help me? –

online poetry class
at near forty
seeking to finally learn
form and function
in the attempt
to become more
better
greater
than I am today
but the fear creeps in
as I risk losing the purge
that is poetry writing
for art creation
involving revision and editing
aspects I loathe
despise
and while I want to hate
I choose to learn
so here we go,
deep breath
and the plunge
into community college
online poetry workshop classes
with an eye
to publication –

there is nothing cute
or cool
about fatalism…
apathetic *******
acting aloof to
modern atrocities
as if an air of arrogance
can stop climate change
or advert a third world war
astoundingly they ask
unabashedly
and with authority
for the authorization
to acquire all apples
and artichokes
while advancing lies
about August being
better than April….
am I lost?
after re-reading
and attempting to articulate
Arminian or Asian
my assessment complete
I allow myself a nap
awash in applesauce
and aghast at the appearance.

waves of heat rise
distorting the land beyond
no movement, but buzzing flies
hard, dry straw was once a lawn –
cotton blend, stained and soaked
sticks to a sweaty back
nothing satisfies, leastly a Coke
old man neighbor suffered a heart attack –
oppressor sun, beating down
scorching all of my green land
pooling excretion, enough in which to drown
puddles in the palm of my hand –
small children hide indoors
not willing to risk Summer fun
unable to find street-walking ******
as we all cook in the unrelenting sun –
forecast gives no peace or quarter
instead condemns us to another night of no sleep
saw someone fry an egg on construction mortar
and make cookies on the dashboard of a Jeep –
it is simply not the norm
to crest 100 degrees in the Oregon, June
why, even the sprinkler  failed to preform
cooler weather cannot come to soon –

fattened fascist farting songs of freedom
belly distended, face distorted
sweat and **** seeping from between
ingrown hairs and grim filled pores
corrupted lice run rampant
hanging on for dear life from a greasy comb-over
toilet paper, stained, sits stuffed
next to dirt and skin cells
beneath fat and crusty fingernails
hurriedly he dresses in his shame suit
wiping spittle from an intoxicated mouth
adjusting in front of a cracked and discolored mirror
sticky ***** and three day old boxers
shambling down the hallway
scuffed boot limps
as bloodshot eyes adjust to the horror
sharp reality stabs deep as the roar deafens
“** ** **”
“Merry Christmas”

the little dog’s ears perk
and the tail nub cranks to a fervor
crunching gravel hits my ears moments later
and all of our collective excitement builds –
she walks in a drops purse and backpack by the door
giving quick pats to dusty heads
before looking over
sparkling love shines as our eyes meet
and the realization takes hold
we are but for each other
until tomorrows work day begins –
sharing minutes and debriefing
work clothes have been shed and tossed
making way for sweatpants
or pajama bottoms
who says there are age limits
in footy PJ’s –
**** hits and bad Netflix
**** hits and black ops
**** hits and baths
and bed –
habitual routine takes shape
but when happiness is applied
generously
there is no way
these habits could be negative –

four months and twenty some days
the big 4…….Oh,          as they say
thinking of practically applying
a lifetime of research
for a more complete
version of myself
better to see
healthy 85 –
nutritionally
there are changes
ways in which I could
eat free of preservatives
chemical laden un-digestible
hormone fed environment killers
but that would be just one way of change –
I could also take up some form of regular exercise
once upon a time I was active and healthful
playing city league basketball and roofing
getting my sweat on as a lifestyle choice
now, less and less after the injury
which has become but an excuse
to allow fat deposits
to grow freely
extending
my belly –
it is always
just a choice to make
we all have that special power
to simply choose again, at any time
and recreate or earthly experience anew
this is the big truth the government hides away
locked in secret vault next to Hoffa and the Roswell UFO
humanities greatest gift from the universe is the ability to make choices –
the ultimate question is what, now, will you do with this information
will you examine your life and perhaps make some changes
as I have and most certainly continue to do
can I lead you to a new promise land
in which we all truly live free
it's really an easy answer
a simple statement
………………...
…………….
………..
yes –