Barney backpack,
Cowboy Boots,
Little tow-head
boy.

Tasseled  hat,
Winners robe,
Fine young
man.


Issued backpack,
Army boots,
Future straight
ahead.

I'll be okay when
you leave, Then cry
when I can.

"That's a pretty dress!"
"Daddy gave it to me!"
"Do you love your Daddy?"
"With all my heart!"
"That's a big bruise!"
"Daddy gave it to me."
"Do you love your Daddy?"
"With all my heart."

Upon dead limb the
the vultures sit.

Waiting the wolf
his fill.

Necks twisted,
Wings flattened,

Ready to clean
the bones.

Love unwanted

You came from nowhere;
Knocking me from my feet.

Disturbing my thoughts,
Leaving me in a broken pile.

Thinking it only a meeting of chance;
Blindly ignoring your flirtations,
I hoped you were gone.

But you returned;
Making me your puppet.

Lips bloodied and tongue ravaged
from your kiss of vengeance.

I've tried to leave
Many,many times.
But still you linger.


And I lose my mind
in small pieces.

Hoping only to forget my life
before you loved me.

Tethered there by blue-veined needles and velcro,
In a rented bed she sleeps. ****-Stained linens and
humiliation her new life.

Sunday visit’s from people she recognizes but can’t
remember is the only joy she has now. But even these
are darkened by grief.

She dreams of her beloved Husband and the dances they shared,only to wake and cry in his absence. Not sure where he went
or when he’ll return.

The call of “Lights Out” comes and she falls into dream-sleep,
Hearing the soft melody of a Sinatra tune she see’s him.
The only love she’s known.

“Maybe tonight we can dance once more” She whispered
as her beloved took her into his arms. The tune was familiar
that he sang into her ear, and she felt once more his breath
on her neck.

Twirling about in a fashion that would bring Astaire
to envy they danced into the heavens.
Forever together, They danced.

Longing for an answer,
Knowing it won't come,
I beg for God's mercy.

I scream "Who are you!"
With no reason to cry,
I feel tears on my cheek.

"Today's the day" She says.
Sounds like a melody,
played by an old violin.

Metallic, dense, and rusty.
Like smoke from a foundry.

In Mama's life her only worry,
Should be if she's at home in time to watch her story.

Not bills paid, money owed, or if she can make it.
There's a big diffrence between "Borrow it" and "Take it"

Worries that she'll break a bone from the meds she can't afford.
Part D is joke, Ain't that what Medicare is for?

And If they did pay cash, What would happen to the Horde?

The old man, He's still working, just to feed the tribe.
Wondering if he quits will the others stay alive?

Never used to worry if the sky turned into gray.
Now wondering what he'll do if it were to rains for days.

The tribe they don't care, I don't think they even wonder,
Just who is gonna feed them once the bank is 6 feet under?