I looked at death, my old friend,
My companion and guide to the end.  
A glare he passed, a query to send—  
"What if, one more day, your life I extend?"

"What could you achieve,
With the boon you receive?  
Or would you perceive it a curse—  
One more day to wander the earth?"  

What could I do?  
With time so few.  
Whom would I run to?  
Whose presence would ring true?  

Or shall I not go?  
Run, hide—silhouette in shadow?  
Then whose darkness would I reside in,  
Who would turn the death's tide in?  

You tell me to see,  
To live, love, and like a bird—flee.  
In 24 hours—"What could anyone ever be!?"
A lie, to those who truly see.  

My friend, listen to what I say.  
No closure could be found in one day.  
Don’t mock my answer—this is my way.  
Forget hours, even 24 years wouldn’t be enough to  Seize The Day!

It’s strange on
days like this.
December 30th, 2024.
The temperature reached
60 degrees today.
An ice fisherman
died on the lake.

It’s strange on
days like this,
when winter plays
a charade.
I open the windows
and let the breeze in.
My cats run around the
house, and think it’s
spring.
They wag their
tails and watch the
squirrels hide nuts.

And on strange
days like this,
I look around my
room, at the pictures
on the wall.
Hemingway
Van Gogh
Picasso
and I wonder if
they ever thought that  
they would die someday.

I think about it.

It’s hard to envision.
I’m so alive when I
sit in the hot jacuzzi
and watch the bubbles
and steam.
I water the plants,
exercise, and take
vitamins.
I will be gone one day.
The rivers will still
flow and wind, and the clouds  
will
float slowly by, and
chocolate will still taste so
sweet.

I wonder if
Vincent, Pablo, or
Earnie ever thought about
the strange tricks the
seasons play on us.

I watched a young
boy beat his
chest and scream at
the dawn until
the liquid sky drove
him away.
He chased thunder
and
butterflies with the
same enthusiasm;
oozing a lust for
living in his chasm
of youth.
Ten years full of
questions and scabbed
up knees, freckled dreams
running across green fields
and sunlit meadows.
Golden little life,
resting beneath a
willow tree to sip the
sweetness
from the clover and
honeysuckle flowers.
Hours full of pocketknife
afternoons, whittling sticks
into arrows to
shoot at the moon.
And after the rain
oh sweet green youth,
run barefoot with the
wind
toward a sinless
sky.
And live, live
live, for tomorrow
will come with a sigh.

Don’t hang your hat on past triumphs
as if the battle is done.
Don’t hide behind them as the lazy would,
saying “I have no need to fight for good,
you see, I’ve already won!”

For past defeats, don’t hang your head.
You are not the man that lost.
He died that day in that clash,
and you were born from that ash
stronger and wiser for the cost.

Do not die full of regret
because you wasted every today.
Move now, and give yourself no slack.
Don’t waste your time looking back.
You aren’t going that way.

For future foresight
You need philosophy
For short term analysis
You need mathematics
As he future being an object of fear in our premise
We base our notions on falsities
Perhaps, we fear the truth
Or we fear what the truth is behind all the mumbo jumbo
Understanding these things
We can say that from our roles as human beings
To accept the truth
Is to create the story of our lives
Unedited, original and unforgiving to the real version
Let us write our own life in water colors
Let us paint the sky with our skin
The skin will be tainted with golden fire
And our life will be a mere reflection of the heights of achievement
Let us embody our work, as poets

Death is stalking me.
It watches me play cards,
smoke cigarettes, and
drink beer.
It took my parents, two
brothers, and all my friends.
It got Chris last week.
20 bottles of whiskey in
seven days, I suppose that
would **** anyone.
They found him on the
railroad tracks.
Death is stalking me.
I won't cheat it.
I won't escape it;
but before it gets me,
I bet I finish
this poem.

Fresh new book opens wide and swallows me whole!
Taking time to acclimate I catch my breath,
Focusing as scenes and characters unfold
To instill memories of their length and breadth.
Finishing one book a month is my firm goal
Few subjects considered are out of my depth
Reading encourages to take life in stride-
Back to my book! See you on the other side!

and so you sweetly said to me upon the fireside,
"take care my dear, for souls like ours have withered up and died."

and even great romancers of the holy scriptures say,
"take care,
take care,
take care,
take care,
take care and live the day."

I never did believe that I'd retire in the sky
but live my next life in the air, a dainty butterfly

but just in case I pass away and turn back into dust
take care,
take care,
take care,
take care,
I know I really must