Listen to the winter wind
Hear the cold on nature's breath
Get inside before the moon
Or you will surely catch your death

There's nothing for protection
When winter wind comes through
It's nature against your will to live
You'll lose, that much is true

The desert is a harsh place
With heat that matches hell
But the cold you feel in winter
Will do you in, so fast as well

It's a land of extreme harshness
A place where you can surely die
It's a place so full of beauty
It's enough to make you cry

In summer you are melting
In winter frozen hard
You may ask why I stay here
The answer's easy pard'

I live here for adventure
I'm a cowboy through and through
I share my life with Mother Nature
I guess, it's just the thing I do

I'm gonna die here in the desert
But, not because of winter wind
I'll die here for one reason
So I can come back again

The desert, she recycles
Takes what's here back home
I'll die out here in the desert
But, until that time....I'll roam

This **** really fries my brain.
Wish I was on the road.
Playing guitar all the time.
Moving.
What is it about now that
keeps me in ruts?
I wish It was raining.
It would fit well.
The mood.
Woods.
Those trees keep calling me.
They feel like home.
When I'm sitting amongst them.
In the decay,
Of pines and leaves.
This **** fries my brain.
I feel distant.
Farther in my head.
Eyes more like windows.
Not sure if I'm an odd one.
Or if I'm just crazy.
My handwriting is bad.
As much as I write, you would think,
My hand writing would be better.
All those curls can't hide these
shaky hands.
Well,
Shaky bones tell me the winds are coming.
With the thunder;
Mystic changing powers.

Something stirs,
Shedding its skin.
Turning it to fur.

A howl.
A groan,
A rip.

Bounding into the woods,
Digging my paws into the earth.
Galloping like a wild horse.

The moon rises,
Rays of freedom!
Oh the joy!

I am free,
A wolf of archaic life!

I roam the land,
Leaving only a howl..
In the breeze.

There are times
Like now
When I don't feel like
Spinning poems
Extracted from my
Many thoughts.

Instead
I let my thoughts
Roam free
In my mind.
Of love, of life,
Of heartbreak, of hatred,
They stay as sentence fragments
I repeat to myself
Over and over
Until
They're ready
To be
Written.