there are some days when it's the headache and you, not you and the headache.

just pound after pound, the core of your brain. the beat you never intended to dance to. and look at us, puppets.

like a ball on a string, our heads rattling around, unaware that heads don't rattle.

trying to push away the push of pain through pills that we pop to pop this pressure point.

but figuring out where to place the pin is the pause.

you don't want to make it worse, but if you can't make it better, best to just...not.

how do normal people function? what is this magical nirvana of blissful calm state? how does one close their eyes and sleep?

when headache likes to play, you can only hope they don't pull the string too hard.

Out seaward to the  horizon I see Forgiving hills where lessons fade,
Projections of my desirous plea
Patiently await their farewell to bade,
Look now for at their peak the sun is setting,
With an orange hue caressed blue sky,
And white clouded streaks like thought forgetting,
Senses renewed—our demons die.
Can you see that place where intrigue resides,
Beyond those hills ‘neath the sky turned red?
For there the heaven and earth collides,
Pervading all hope in our angels stead.

When I am among the trees,
    especially the willows and the honey locust,
    equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,
    they give off such hints of gladness.

    I would almost say that they save me, and daily.
    I am so distant from the hope of myself,
    in which I have goodness, and discernment,
    and never hurry through the world
    but walk slowly, and bow often.

    Around me the trees stir in their leaves
    and call out, “Stay awhile.”
    The light flows from their branches.

    And they call again, “It’s simple,”
    they say, “and you, too, have come
    into the world to do this, to go easy,
    to be filled with light, and to shine.”

Hello... Poetry
It has been some time
since I've enjoyed you
as my company

There's a special joy
on a rain-filled night
to probe this site
with the cadence of ebony and ivory

Hello... my friend
would you mind a glass
red wine....Cabernet, Amarone
best yet, some Long Island tea

Such a pleasure filled mood
as my thoughts protrude
these splendid dictates
both old and new

So long, my esteemed friend
until we next meet
when I can repeat to you
Hello again...Hello Poetry

Today I’ll ponder,
on these scars.
Tonight I’ll wish,
upon a star.

Tomorrow may bring,
another wound,
but wounds can heal,
if treated soon.

Yesterday,
I thought of death,
and felt the wind,
sigh with his breath.

Not today,
he whispered clear,
perhaps tomorrow,
but do not fear.

In the end,
he comes to all.
The weak, the strong,
the big and small.

He’s timeless and constant,
Death’s always “been”,
and he has no pity,
foe or friend.

He’ll lead me on,
to the unknown,
giving me the thing,
he can never own.

So I will not fear him,
and I shall not fret.
For tomorrow,
has not happened yet.

I can taste the purity of the blue.
Soaking through my spirit.
Offering tranquility to my mind.
These old bones are weary no longer.

Tranquility
It's gazing at the reflection of strawberry skies in an untouched lake
making you feel like the child you once used to be
thinking about what your mom is making for dinner
It's a warm summery breeze
hugging you like that blanket your grandma gave you for Christmas
while you slowly fell asleep
It's chasing a butterfly in your garden
feeling the wind in your hair , not worrying about anything but that **** insect
yet now
as we grow older
why must we be frightened of being tranquil?

a certain tranquility had
washed over the place

once crowded and populous
now as if any event of the past
had never been present

you could call it the end of times
at the start of a new day