the city streets, so wet,
they shimmer like glass.
under every streetlight,
an image of you,
a moist blade of grass.

i feel her emerald eyes upon me

-or are they?

is it just my hope or the wish that i wait to come true?

if it came true;

what would be my very first words,
my very first move on her?

i know that i would ask her to kindly ignore my tremblin' hands that have waited what seems a lifetime to hold her firmly in my grasp.

because;
her body fits within my firm grip perfectly,

sinfully perfectly.

our lips locked together like a safe that holds millions of dollars in rare jewels.

the contour of our bodies melting into one another
like dark chocolate onto a luscious strawberry

like the finale at a 4th of july fireworks display... ..

i finally enter her

trying to tie my shoes,
clumsily,
not able to work out the logic of it, fumbling,
as my father stands there

his anger growing over a son who can’t even do
this simplest thing for the first time

can’t even manage
the knot to keep his shoes on

you think someone’s
going to tie your shoes for you the rest of your life?

no, i answer, forty-five years later, tying my shoe,
hands trembling with this memory

my father and all those years of childhood
not being able to work out how he loved me....
a knot so tight it has taken all my life
to untie

Late fall when leaves have left their summer homes just to lay helpless on the cold wet earth.

Some lay together in bunches in corners, while others have a space all of their own.

Some drift along a rippled water's surface being pushed far away by autumn's northeasterly winds.

Their magnificent colors are all but ignored now.

The swooshing- rattling-crackling sounds as a gentle breeze blew through their once summer home is now a distant memory.

A memory not for the leaf you understand, but for the viewer that has valued the leaf's existence.

Appreciated its every movement and sound,
sang its praise for shade against the harsh summer sun.

Even its very last movement, falling to the earth helplessly, gracefully,
only now to be walked upon by those that never noticed them in the first place.

These leaves, they share no animosity nor disappointment in those that never look upon them.

They only feel sorry for them.

But, next season after the cold winter's night has passed,
the leaves will be back once again in their full vibrant glory, living on their summer homes,
providing camouflage for a bird's nest buried deep inside,
providing shade and shelter even to those that choose to ignore all of which they are.

Only to "Fall" and "leave" us once more,
just to do it all over again and to hopefully acquire a new fan or two.

The human being.

The doer of such good.
Also the doer of some of the darkest most
nefarious behavior ever witnessed on his planet.

The human being.
So imperfect.
So bi-polar.
So frenetically unbalanced.
Flawed.

The matter of factly cold blooded murderer
which doesn't bat an eye after its despicable
display of carnage .
Carnage that not even the creatures we call
"animals" are capable of.
Flawed.

You know the ones.
General Paul W. Tibbets, pilot of the Enola Gay.
The pilot that dropped "little boy" and murdered 140,000 people.
The pilot that was spared his own life to the age 92
while ending others before they even begun.
Flawed.

You know the ones.
The human "animals" such as...
the Charles Manson's.
The Saddam Hussein's and
the Adolf ******'s of his world.
The fallen angel Satan, cast out of the heavens
during a war in the heavens never to return.
Flawed.

The drunken drivers that **** the innocent everyday.
The texting drivers that **** the innocent everyday.
The complainers.
The annoying bi-polar human being that complains
it is too hot.
Only to complain a short time later,
they are too cold.
Flawed.

The annoying human being that complains that their
garden and grass is in desperate need of rain.
This is the same human being that I have to listen to
complain in a supermarket checkout about how
they will have to dodge the raindrops when leaving the store,
such an inconvenience for them,unreal.
Flawed.

The humans that promise,
only to be filled with empty promises.
We live in a world full of empty promises.
"I swear to God" they strongly avow!
Perhaps that is their biggest problem in life right there.
Flawed.

The animal abusers and murderers that will one day
have to answer for their heinous crimes upon
God's most tame creations.
The alleged animals.
Only, they aren't the true "animals" that roam
and destroy God's Earth, no ,not at all.
That title belongs to the irrevocably flawed human being.
The ones that they themselves have brought many of
God's creations to the brink of extinction by their sheer ignorance.

Just to think....
It all began so so long ago with a man named Adam,
and a woman named Eve,
and we as God's most flawed creation
have never recovered.
Simply looking around me everyday,
I now see that we never will.....

I must say -
it's been a few years.
It's been a few years since I cared about how I looked.
I'm not sure why that is ?
I'm not sure who is to blame ?
I'm not sure if anyone IS to blame ?
I'm not sure I even care why it is -
I think that I simply wanted to write about it...heh

I will admit -
I can go 6 months or better without ...
without so much as even a trim,
never mind the process of a real haircut.
I rest my razors sometimes for 7 days...
sometimes more.
I miss that sometimes only because
I enjoy the essence of my choice of shave cream.
Don't get me wrong -
I do shower everyday....
sometimes twice.

Thing is -
when I get out of the shower...
I don't ever pamper me.
I don't look in the mirror,
don't care too really.
The reason why -
I'll tell ya...
It will only remind me that...
remind me that I am in need of a shave and haircut.

And the thing about that is -
I don't care what I look like -
Don't care what you think.
I have no one to impress.
I don't have some inner drive to impress anyone,
impress anyone with my appearance anyway.

Judge me because of it, go ahead -
The cover is just that...
just a book cover.
I'm a what's inside the book cover man.
The depth inside is infinite pages you could never read -
I'm a lifetime to finish.
The outside ......
the cover is superficial and is most often misleading.
Not to mention -
a very quick and boring ...
"had it 100 times before" read.

So -
Never judge a book by its cover...
no matter how long the hair -
no matter how unshaven.
They just don't care how they look.
Perhaps..?...?..?More importantly -
they don't care how you look either

looking for something in the sunday paper

i flipped by accident to local weddings

yet missed the photograph until i saw
your name among the headings

and there you were, looking almost unchanged

your hair still long, though now long out of style

and you still wore that stiff, ironic look...
the one that was your smile

i felt as though we sat there face to face

my stomach tightened

i read the item through

it said too much about both families...
too little about you

finished at last, i put the paper down

i remembered old feelings,
my mind aflame—
wondering -

who is this man ?
this stranger whom you loved...
this printed name

and yet i clipped it out to put away...
inside a book like something i might use

a scrap i knew i wouldn’t read again,
but couldn’t bear to lose

the seagulls wailed
as they skimmed across the angry river's surface

on the horizon,

green islands
and a puffy line of
cumulonimbus
clouds hovering above them

the brilliant sunshine reflected off of the river's surface resembling an abundance of diamonds

i can hear the waves
'swooshing'
up against the pier
and the side of my docked yacht

a group of young boys decide to grab a swim in the boat launch area

i grab a bottle of  deep eddy lemon
and fill my glass with ice and straight deep eddy and lemon

just living out another day here on the niagara river mere moments... ..

from the mighty Niagara Falls

we turned into the drive,
and gravel flew up from the tires
like sparks from a fire

so much
to be done ,
the unpacking,
the mail
and papers ...
the grass needed mowing ....

we climbed stiffly out of the car

the shut-off engine ticked as it cooled

and then we noticed the pear tree,
the limbs so heavy with fruit
they nearly touched the ground

we went out to the meadow;
our steps
made black holes in the grass;
and we each took a pear,
and ate,
and were grateful

the handle of the screen door

i grab hold as the sun set tries to hide

mischievously laughing ...almost infantile

the shadows join in
with peeks and the boos...

their darkness anything but frightening

as i enter my home
summer's reflection astonishes me


awe me..
reflections off of anything that shimmers

the sun plays for the last time this day

i draw my curtains on another day...

the only light allowed is light that i control

my feet now slide and slip on the showers suds

an owl now asks ,WHO is listening to its own idle chatter

by the wolf howling moonlight,

WHO is merely assumptions

crickets sing almost to fill the void of any silence

i awaken with a lullaby by birds...
birds that coo and ease my ill fading soul...

the song i yearn when i grab the handle of the screen door

never am i
one to dare and fill the air
with dead unnecessary words

uninteresting words that just fly by
the ears and the hearts of the undeserving -
stoically portrayed.

"i'm sorry" means i'm sorry when meant

don't fill the air with those words
just to say you said them

most often,
those 2 words together ( i'm sorry )
are never felt intensely enough anyway

why you ask?

because the "apologist" -
habitually utilizing them -
has dead eyes -
a generic tongue -
and coldest of hearts.

her jade eyes
her brunette hair
her savage tan

her curves defy
her shapely pear
her totality makes my manhood stand

when the
  full figured

green/ blue eyed brunette walks in?

my mind becomes
    overloaded

with sin


  they are 100% my kryptonite

   Mmmm mmm mmm... i wanna tak a bite

     i wanna take my time and...

make us both feel,

    alright

conglomerate of nothingness

gutters filled with leaves hold more life

wet desolate glare filled onyx streets

homeless Vet still fights a fight

fatcat politicians
dining on lies and the steak dinner they keep from the soldier that fought for their very own freedom

conspiracy theories

senseless violence

crime scene yellow ribbon
outside it,
the people ogle its truly sad normality

flashing red and blue lights

the sirens are coldly - eerily redundant

screams and gunshots are common place

another coroners car is full

the moon and...
   its
communion wafer hue,
          tranquilly
    reflect off of
a paradise's ocean
         of blue.
i've never seen
     an evening

         ever.....

look so beautiful
    on you.

death's grip
  on finality,
and the raw
    emotional power
of which it
   besieges and tortures
the minds of those
     left in its wake....

is an event
    of trauma which
never releases its victim,
     leaving chasms
abyss's and voids
      forever left numb
to fill the missing
    of that which will
never return is....

  a path
       forever meandering
towards a mirage'd sun soaked
  horizon that
never nears.

to never see
a face again.

forever...
   does not pretend.

once departed,
    here.... it
mysteriously all ends.

from the
   limp and lifeless body....hopefully
   your soul ascends.

maybe-

     if you write

your feelings down

      and threw them away,

they would...

       go away too ?

    don't allow-

       lingering,
       longing,

consume you anymore.

         because

    time-

          is not

refundable but,

           hearts apparently are

     when you return

            your heart,

time ignores the loss

       time will always win

and...

          never look back

    you shouldn't either

words,

    spoken or written,

parchment silent

      or

****** heard

       they are like confetti

at a year end celebration

         they are like rain

and thunderstorm saturation.

         words are...

food that feed my emotions,

         words are...

soothing like the silkiest
of lotions

        they are dreams that

come to life

         they are weapons that

cut deep like a knife

         select your words with

thoughtfulness and care,

        and spill them all out

like a poet whoms heart is always there...
             bare....
             and dares,

to be rare

the left wing party
fights,

actually fights
for the right
to barbarically;

mutilate,
slaughter,
dismember and
******
innocent babies
by the thousands
every day in this country

only people led by satan ******
innocent babies

only cowards led by satan ******
innocent babies

a party led by satan will never get my vote

cowards led by satan will never get my vote

satan fills the air waves,
tries to invade your mind through those
left wing mainstream media propaganda machine stations like cnn and msnbc

turn them off

say no to satan

they only aspire to weaken the Christian community... ..

weaken faith.

we have Jesus,
we will always win!

that

   night

that you

      melted

into

        my arms

you
          whispered

to

             me,


"sweet David,


  i can see


          heaven

               IN


    your

                eyes

never cross

this Pøę like

creature.


Montresor

    still

.....     lives and,

Fortunato


   not so much.


darkness is seduced by Montresor.

Montresor
seduces....

   darkness.

but by

  all means,

come


    taste

                    my


          wine

unzip... ..

frantic

like a starved animal,

kneeling,

my meat was,

greedily ripped
from the resting place

her mouth she...

mistook for,

her ******... ..

i think

follow me,

in your
naked feet
under
the stars
to our
favorite place

follow me,

and
let's wish
upon a star
that tonight
will
never end


follow me,

and
let us
sensually
make love
under the
talcum powder
hued
full moon

follow me,

and
let us unleash
the wolf
in us,

and howl
as deeply
intertwined
lovers
at the moon

follow me,

follow me
to the place
where we
become one
and
make love,

over and
over again

as i gaze up high

i observe a forever ashen cloudy sky

begrudgingly one boot,
then the other

my genuine thirst for the day is solitude and cover

away, the place where people i push

tormented broken hearted mind of mush

"dear john" is not for me

even though this landscape is not where i want to be

dispatch the clouds

a lunar or solar moment my eyes will never see

set my mind and soul eternally free

basking in longevity under the canopy

the canopy of your shaded tree

yes,

i have written about you

i am sure that i have written about just about everyone

nothing bad,
nothing good,
simply something
everyday that i must do

i write about items that don't matter to most

i write about topics that most would never think
to write about

i've written about stop signs,

double yellow lines on the highway

i've written about how much that i prefer butter on my toast

i have written about so many things yet,
i know that there is still so much more

all i ever need to do is walk outside and be me

embrace and allow the moment to melt
deep within my core

my openness and willingness to fully absorb,

opens door after mysterious door

yes,
yes i have written about you

i have written about you even when you had no clue

black -n- blue,

sick with flu,


the old and new, the story always grew

yet, i keep it true

i have written about many things

but make no mistake....

i have indeed written about you.

i'm not a hot weather guy

i'm not that summer all year round kind of guy

i toil enough in direct sunlight and hot weather every day,

i have for a very long 36 years now

by early May i am no longer that white guy

i'm already that brown guy,

that savagely tanned guy.

i'm not a beach guy during the day

i don't need to kick sand up in the air with my feet

i don't need to build sand castles with the sun
declaring war upon my back,
my skin

to be fair i find "beaching it" a complete
waste of my time so i never even ponder it

i'm also not the guy that screams "Marco Polo"
in our swimming pool that i am never in

i'm not a boating,

water skiing
or jet skiing guy either,

i'm not missing anything

i don't need bonfires exclusively in summer like most do

i don't need more heat on top of heat,

i'm smarter than that!

i will take a bonfire in crisp autumn air with
the crackling sounds of fallen leaves under my feet

ill take a bonfire to warm my icy hands and toes
after i slide down a snowy country *****
on a rubber tube at lightning speed

i'm not a guy that lays in direct sunlight on purpose

oil lathered over my entire body and tortured skin

cooking my body,

sweating for no other reason
than for vanity and cancer later on in life,

i'm not that guy

i am a guy that likes to cozy and nestle up
in a fresh cool,

apple crisp midnights air

this guy lives for the first sight of a treed hillside blanketed in auburns,

golds,

spearamints,

pumpkins and cinnamons

the first snowflake to fall and dance upon my eyelashes

now that guy i am!

as a poet i also know that i can get just as breathtaking
a sunrise or sunset in the spring,

fall and winter as i can in the summer

so this guy doesn't need a summer time sunrise or sunset either

believe me when i tell ya...

this guy is just not a summer time guy!

a feeling of numbness overwhelms the body,
the mind and soul upon entering those doors

these are doors that you know you will never
pass through alive again

a great sadness,

pity and self pity surround you as the doors close

memories of a healthy life flash before your eyes
that no one else can see but you

the very edge of your world is clearly visible

you have journied here prematurely,

unwantingly

your body has been under siege,

under attack by a foe they claim has no equal

a cowardly foe,
a foe that is rarely beaten

the mind is as sound as the day you turned sweet sixteen

but now,

it also slowly gives in unwillingly

the twinkle in those eyes slowly begin to fade as well

you know that the nights of enjoying your favorite meal...

your favorite television show...

the early morning walks in the unmistakable fragrant
air after an evening's gentle rain...

the smiles you shared with those closest to you
when no one knew that you were even very sick....

those smiles are vastly different than the smiles
that merely seem,

feel to be nothing more than pity smiles now

but,

these are all things you know that you will never do again
after passing through those doors

will my loved ones miss me?

this plays over and over in your mind

will they be okay without me here,

without me near?

who will care for my four legged friend?

will he have a loving home such as i provided?

i can't help but think...

i can't help but feel that i am letting so many down....

helplessly i am being erased from the everyday landscape of my loved ones lives by a coward

a coward that plays hide and seek

a coward that never wants to be found until it's too late,

until everyone has given up and gone home

my footprints may no longer be visible in a while,

but i hope that my life and the way in which i had lived it
has left or leaves a deep enough imprint for those closest to me

to remember me by,

to cherish me by...

even being prematurely removed from their lives as i was.

on my way into hospice i may have been numb, bewildered,

and filled with nostalgia of my life that once was....

i know on my out of hospice in spirit,

i will be free!

i will cry many tears for those that i have left behind without me

but........

on the other side of those doors i will finally be free!!!!

writing is lonely[...]

but most of the time you are in a room by yourself, you know

writers spend more time in rooms, staying awake in quiet rooms, than they do hunting lions in africa

so, it's a bad life for a person because it's so lonely and because it consists of such highs and lows, and there's not always anywhere to take these emotional states [...]

it's a life that's tough to sustain without falling prey to some kind of beguiling diversion that's not good for you

contrary to a generally held view, poetry is a very powerful tool because ....poetry is the conscience of a society [...]

no individual poem can stop a war — that's what diplomacy is supposed to do

but poetry is an independent ambassador for conscience:

it answers to no one, it crosses borders without a passport, and it speaks the truth

that's why ... it is one of the most beautiful and powerful of the arts

days and nights
of waiting

waiting for my
line to
flatten out

waiting for the
world to
stop spinning

longing for peace
of mind

longing for my
death free of
my own hands

longing for my restless soul to
finally rest

longing to get away from a world of
hatred and
******

please... ..

PLEASE!

do
not
resuscitate!