I don't
want to
die but,
I
want to
die.



written by me... ..

Another
fighter,
another
long
battle lost
to cancer
by a soul
full of
fire.

My dear friend
Dino,
this life
may end
in death,
but death
is really
life's
first breath.

It's
now you
breathe,
free of
worry and
at last,
free of
pain.

Now you
can rest easy
and enjoy
in Heaven's
paradise,
and
with Jesus
forever
reign.


written by me... ..

What a
beautiful world this
would be
if
people had
hearts
like dogs

woof.



written by me... ..

Quite a few mistakes i've made,
proved that I am human too.
as a child I was an ol church boy,
that's just what I would do.

I grabbed my grandmas loving hand,
she'd pat me on my head.
I'd listen to the preacher preach his gospel word,
to every word he said.

I'd kneel before the greatest man,
i'd pray for everyone.
I'd feel just like i've done some good,
when his preaching
words were
done.




written by me... ..

When I leave God's masterpiece of creation.

I assert that there will not be not one cloud in the sky.

Not one door that I need to open on my stairway up to heaven.

Jesus will be waiting in the bluest of skies for me.

Arms wide open,

whispering to me.....

' I know that life was hard for you son ' !

'But ---- '

' Welcome David....its now time to put all of your trepidation behind '.

' You are finally here ' !!!

' And here is where you were always meant to be '.



written by me... ..

until death
do us
heart.

it's the
only one
that
i've got.

I'm only
here
because
I have
to be

Here,
where
evil
overwhelmingly
lurks
free

I wish
that I
could so
off me

But alas,
my soul
is not
worth
the fee

So,
here
I sit
unselfishly



written by me... ..

if i,

allowed
you
to
write
your
story
upon my
heart.

would
you
break
it,

just
rip it
apart?

or
would,

Aruban
beach
divi divi trees
and
tradewind
fantasies
fill
and
be the
ink
in
your
quill?

would
you
script a
story
for
you and i
like
fine
classical
art?

or has
life
left
all your
remaining
ink
black
and
my heart
has
been
made
to pay
the
bill?





written by me... ..

Am I deliberately destroying myself ?

Maybe ?

Probably !

But;

Why so slowly though ?

Especially

If I am as unhappy as I feel most days ?

Watching skinny feral cats prowling for scraps.

It hurts me so...

Just about ruins my day.

Most of you will never understand that

Because;
you're not me !

I know,

being a realist that I can't save them all.

Nor people that senselessly **** each other everyday !

I have a heart that never feels whole.

Because it's always breaking.

So I think;

keep drinking that alcohol,

eventually it will **** you.

But I swear most days,

i'd like it faster......

and,

it's just then I think,

I want to live forever with Jesus !

So I cling to alcohol

and continue to **** myself slowly.



written by me... ..

A year later,
I found
your canine
hair in
the corner
of my closet.

It brought
a smile
and then
some tears.

I miss you
and your
German Shepherd
personality
Sasha.

love.

let us
look
at the
word
love.

remove
the
letter L
and
add the
letter R
after
the
letter E
and..

what
you have
is
over.

love,
backwards
is
short
for
evol-ution.

this
world
is
evol-ving
from
love
to
hate
in a
hurry.

love?

will
soon
be
extinct.



written by me... ..

to the
surface,

the
worms
ascended
after
a
tempermental
summer
afternoon's
cry.

savaged,

birds
of a
feather
ate
their
hearts.

similar...

similar to
how
humans
mimic
vultures
when
one is
vulnerable,

after
a
stormy
summer's
cry.




written by me... ..

You my love,
are an ocean
in a world
filled with
puddles.


written by me... ..

The river
shimmering
before me
like billions
of unclaimed
diamonds.
A bountiful array of birds and
their morning
serenade.
Rain drops
cascading down
luscious leaf
after leaf
forming puddles
beneath
my feet.
The grey
skies don't seem
so grey with
all of this
green picture
framing it.
A boat sails
by and
disturbs the
glass top
water's surface.
The older man
just arrived
once again
with his young
prancy pup
driving from
garbage can
to garbage can
collecting
bottles.
With the rain,
I just called
my entire crew
and told them
to enjoy a
3 day weekend.
I can't pour
concrete in the rain but,
I can sure
sit at my
favorite spot
in this life
and write
with
no worries.




written by me... ..

Rain on
Monday.
6am
will find me
at my
favorite spot
by the water.
In search
of a muse and
and
writing verse.
Rain for me,
smells like
freedom.
I live for
writing verse
by the freedom of the river
in a 6am rain.


written by me... ..

Her anxiety
filled words,
she wants
them to
mean
something
to you.

But alas,
they mean
nothing when
those words
fall upon
ears of stone
and a
dying heart.

The once
little boy
now a
middle
aged man
is heading
towards
twilight's
horizon.

Her words;

soon
her words
will be
directed towards
an
empty chair.



written by me... ..

he wrote
about
ensnaring
her in
an
intricate
spider's
web.

and there,
there
she lies
prone,
sprawled...

so
vulnerable
and
just about
paralyzed
by his
venom.

he
meaningfully,

slowly
meanders
in...

and as
he
suspected,
she
refuses
to
fight it,
there is
no struggle.

but
rather,

she has
been
knowingly
longing
for a
night
of
paralyzing
seduction
with
him.



written by me... ..

Both of us felt it: That day was an island,
strewn with rocks and lighthouses and lovers,
in the generous ocean.
On the mainland,
people went about their business, eating
the Times, glancing through coffee and oatmeal,
as we walked the gangway into an original dream
of attentiveness.
As if a day’s pleasure
could concentrate us as much as suffering,
as if the seawall were a banquet without
surfeit, as if we could walk hand in hand
with no one nearby, as if silence and blue
wind became an Atlantic cove to float in,
and the air centered itself in small purple
butterflies flitting among the **** flowers.
In the darkening city we returned to,
our privacy completed the cafés of strangers.

One damp, dreary drizzly grey sky day, a ray of sunshine appeared .

I thought that I heard the doorbell ring, I rose, and then it rang again.

I opened the door to only find a weathered UPS uniform on my concrete stoop.

It smelled of Old Spice and sported a name tag that read " Fireball ".

A pair of black framed reading glasses on the inside of the vest pocket.

A gold plated belt buckle that boasts of how many times the world has been traveled around.

I bend down on one knee to greedily clutch what's left of "Fireball".

I cry, you're traveling is over Dad.
Come on inside now and out of the weather..... and stay with me forever.

Let's dry those wet clothes by the fire and talk about our time apart since you passed away.

I have lots of questions Dad...
We have lots of catching up to do.
I've missed you.



written by me... ..

hard-
cold-
angry-
bi polar
has been
my
personality
for
years
now.

pick...
pick

pick...
pic­k.
­
it only
takes
one
memory
and,

i
arrive
OUTSIDE
myself
once
again,

always
knowing
how.

pick...
pick

pick....
pick,

ever­­yday
i
pick at
my
scabs
my
wounds
my
past.

i wait
for
loose
gravel
under
my feet
to
scuttle
at
long
last.

one
time
in life,

i
was a
child
that
saw
life
as an
everyday
playground.

now?

i
pick....
pick

pick....
pick.

i
wait
to discard
this
defeated
frown.

i
wait
for
my
life
to drown.

i
wait
for
them to
come
leave
tears
upon my
cemetary
mound.

i...

i wait
for
death-

and
my
childhood
to
once
again
be
found.

i...

i wait
for
MY
death-

to
no
longer
make
a sound.



written by me.. ..

Destruction lies around like broken shards of glass that flatten your tire and direct you to a tree.
The bird with an injured wing awaits its inevitability on a 8 lane highway.
I hear the vigorous shaking of the ball bearings in a spray paint can before it explodes.
The motorcyclist at a red light with feet rested on the ground gets plowed into from behind by a drunk off duty sheriff.
Life is so fragile.

Need not apply if you drown in the morning air.
You must allow commonality to be our life preserver.
Or meander afloat until a lifeguard brings you ashore.

The initial 2 year romance high eventually wears off so...
You can..
Be the son that calls his writing father to share heartfelt words he himself has put to paper.
His words draw me deep like the heaviest anchor to the ocean floor.

Like him...
be the smell of fresh cut grass with a side of a smokey bacon.
Or the first deep throated serenade of the day by the lark in the cherry blossom.

Be your four legged child that licks your face when your eyes first open like a tootsie roll tootsie pop.
Be that warm arousing summer's gentle rain that seductively kisses your window pane.

Don't ever try to be a morning person for me.
You either are one or you're not.
Never pretend.
But just know....
to enjoy the very best parts of me,
you....
you need to be my morning eggs and toast with a side of juice... freshly squeezed.

Love is but
a perceived notion.

Love crumbles at the drop of a hat.

Love is volatile.

Love is not carnival
magician inspired.

Love is
not "journaled".

Love is
Love.

I'm a lover
and... ..

you can't fool me
with
your
imposter of love.

If you want love?

There's only
one of me.

Girl;
don't go away mad.

I never
even
asked you
to
go away.

We are all
a masterpiece
unfinished.

Unfinished
but,
in no way
diminished.


written by me... ..

I walk
through puddles
almost daily.

Please.
Please
be an ocean.

I can't walk
across
an ocean.

Depth
is everything
to me.



;)



written by me... ..

On my mind
constantly,
you are.
Confused
I am.
Why?
Why when
I wake up,
you are
on my mind?
Why, during
the middle
of the day,
you are
on my mind?
Why as I
lie in bed
ready to
fall asleep,
you are
on my mind?
Why when
I am dreaming,
you are
in my dreams?
You have been
a muse for
many a
writes because
you,
are on my mind
constantly.
It's dangerous
to even
think about
plugging myself
into you
even once in
the realm of
reality.
I yearn
and literally ache
to touch
every inch
of you.
Is this love?
Is this infatuation?
I am
not sure.
But,
I have never
been more
afraid of
anything in
my life than
how afraid
I am of
touching you
for the
first time.
No words
could possibly describe
the way that
my body would feel or
the way that
my mind
would become
enslaved
to your words
and your
movements.
Constantly,
I dream about
our sunny
and 75
intimate moments
together,
constantly... ..
breathlessly.
Just you
and me
giving one
another each
nanosecond
of our attention
to each other.
Constantly,
you are
on my mind.
Of course,
right now
you are.
Right now,
I am picturing you
in a black
silk laced teddy
leaving all the
right parts of you
covered and leaving my
imagination to
run wild on a
tachycardic
heart rate.
Excuse me
readers while
I wipe the
drool from
my chin
once again.
I ache for our
eyes to meet
at
******'s door
and tremble
in the arms of one another's
exhausted sweaty bodies.
And to just
lie still in
that moment
as one until
we fall asleep
and I dream
of you
once again.



written by me... ..

The wind blows through the trees and whispers their song.
The whisper of a doves wings, preparing to take flight.
The waves that roll and whisper with laughter crashing upon a sandy paradise.
The gentle whisper of a sunset as the moon and stars take center stage.
Your whisper wraps around us all, a genuine warm embrace.
Your heartbeat whispers, just loud enough for all to acknowledge its love.
That is my favorite whisper of all.




written by me... ..

You're the butter on my toast,
the jam that tops it off.
The one that's hanging on my arm,
the one that's in my heart the most.

You're the feather in my cap,
the sugar in my coffee.
You're the sweet that's in my sweet iced tea,
you're the only girl that fits my lap.

Chorus:
You're the good that's in my good morning,
you're the Yee that's in my Yee Haw.
You're the honey dripping from my lips,
you're the lover of my life, the one that came without warning.



written by me... ..

Swerving is my life.
To myself I keep it.
Jesus is my bended ear.
My bleeding he cauterizes.
I stay away from main arteries.
Both hands on the wheel.
I'm blind at night in the rain.
Yet I drive.
One night I will hit every artery.
And Jesus will look away.
To myself I will always keep it,
of course but...
Time to step away from artificial healing.
Jesus will continue to bandage me.
To Him I must look like a patchwork quilt.
You can't save the world when you yourself need saving.
The swerving needs to stop so all of my scars can heal.
Reopening old wounds seemed to be my thing.
I keep that to myself.
Jesus will one day tire of dressing and redressing my same old wounds.
And I will be one mess of a patchwork quilt.




written by me... ..

She loved
tasting me
with her
eyes.
Because
her body,
was never
meant to
be mine.
Even though,
our attraction
was
pure
animalistic
debauchery.



written by me... ..

"Macabre
is
nothing more
than
maturation"


written by me... ..

Don't
be afraid
of death.

It's
coming
for you too!


written by me... ..

Why,
they listen
to a group
called
Secret Garden
of course.


written by me... ..

Forty years
ago
she handed me
a folded note
with her
signature perfume
drenched in it
and a
SWAK... ..
a
Sealed with
a kiss
set of
gorgeous lips
on the
outside of my
folded note.
Her phone #
written in
cherry red
lipstick... ..
and
'call me sometime'
written
beneath it.

I did,
I did call her.

Not only have I
never forgotten
that note
but... ..
I have never
forgotten
her scent
that only she would leave
down
our
High school
hallways.

I keep that
folded note
in a
special place
just for me.

And when
I take it
out of its
protective
sleeve?
I would swear
that... ..
I am back
in the
80's again.

And Raffinee
perfume
was hot
and all the craze
once again.



written by me... ..

Thee...

morning-
night-
rain-
river-
coffee-
burnt toast-
barbeque-
her lips-
her smile-
her hair-
her perfume-
autumn's wind-
Halloween-
carnival-
cut grass-

life... ..

I inhaled thee.

I inhaled
what most
take for
granted.

Might I
suggest to,
stop
doing that?



written by me... ..

Tick;

'sir,
I am
deeply sorry
that I have
to be
the one
to tell
you this
but'... ..

Tock!

=======

Tick;

'at
stage 4
you can
choose to
fight a
low % battle
with
chemotherapy
and
radiation
but'... ..

Tock!

=======

Tick;

'or you can
accept the
inevitability
of your life
rapidily
moving
towards
its conclusion
but'... ..

Tock!

=======

Tick;

"but doc... ..
what if,

what if,

I am not
ready
to die"?

Tock!

======

Tick;

'sir,
it has spread
to your
lymph nodes
and
other organs
and your
outlook is
short
and grim
to be
frank
but'... ..

Tock!

======

Tick;

"but doc,
what about
my children,
my grandchildren,
my wife,
my family doc?... ..
they need me"!

Tock!

=======

Tick;

'sir,
right now... ..
you need them'!

Tock!

=======
Tick;

"but doc... .."

Tock!!!!


written by me... ..

Hospice has
bird feeders
and
deer feeders.
The serenity
is almost
story book.

Today?
Impending
death was
sunny
and 75...
and
paradise like.
I watch
squirrels run
for a
light hearted
laugh
in the tree'd
courtyard.

I watched
a squirrel
run from a
bird
that ran
from a
deer.



written by me... ..

Dream it.
Build it.
Paint it.
Scar it.
Regret it.
Burn it.
Look the other way.
Refocus.
Repeat.
Life, happens.



written by me... ..

I'm no good for any woman.
I'm no good for her open toed shoes,
....for her teasing see through sundress.
I'm no good for her mind,
for her ******* I must confess,
hardened gumdrop ******* ...
almost like a pacifier..
makes my own mind a mess,
I guess.

I'm no good for her nails.
Unpolished, no curves like the ones under her dress,
straight as rails.
Chewed up and forgotten,
hang nailed and almost rotten.

I'm no good for her makeup, her mascara.
Her eyes all swollen and streamed.
Black lines that run down her face,
i've ruined her favorite white teddy lace.

Her once watermelon  luscious lips ,
all frowned and wrinkled from worry.
That apple red lipstick
makes a sad face on my collar...
the frown turns to anger,
I ready for her to holler.

I'm no good for any woman,
cause they think I'm no good when I'm alone.
forgive me for being a man when I am free,
I'll be a man forever...with a lock in need of a key.
I may be no good
but only one key fits, and should.



written by me... ..

One name.
Tip of the tongue.
Forefront of the mind.
Starts forest fires.
Sleepless nights.
Endless pacing.
Stomach of butterflies.
Palms of sweat.
Diamond in the rough.
Oasis in the desert.
The other side of the pillow.
Lucky number seven.
Delish as your favorite dish.
The one name that has power.
Power to light the world.
To light the soul of every man.
To light that fire that burns within.
Eyes as deep as the deepest ocean.
A mind that enlightens you.
Intrigues you.
Intrigue is key.
Keeps you on your toes.
Cools the hot sand beneath your feet.
Brings you a seashell,
under the moonlight,
incredibly...
shaped like a star.
Stars that fall from the sky before your beauty.
The wind carries your perfume to me.
The waves crash against the shore...
I hear your name..
one name.
Defenseless I am....I know.



written by me... ..

Approximately
two weeks
to live
the
doctor
whispers.

Two weeks
doc?

Okay.

Boy oh boy... ..

So much
to do
in
two weeks.

Last will and testament
Life insurance
policies
in a row
Funeral
arrangements made
Bucket list
completed?
Don't care
don't have one !

Telling people
exactly what
you think
of them?
Not done
yet but I
have
two weeks
to do so.

Get ready.



written by me... ..

With
each breath
I am
closer
to death.


written by me... ..

Don't
hide,

don't
run
away

because;

God's
not
done
with
you.

Keep
it
together

because;

He
will
get
you
through.

Cancer
can
knock
down
my
door

but;
with
Him
my
home
is
fresh
and
new.

His
light
is
my
favorite
hue,

and
His
promise
my
glue.


written by me... ..

As He looked away
  
   Jesus felt alone,
          
        pain,

            afraid.

     Let Jesus know his sacrifice was not in vain,

         He gave all,

His burden taller than any wall,

            Let go of the hate and the disdain.

        Come party in glory,

             Come be a part of His heavenly story....



written by me... ..

Back in
the day,
the 70's
and 80's
on the
west side
of Buffalo
at Nativity
Playground,
we young men
and women
were all
friends.

We all
tightly
hung out
together!
Some,
were much
more than
'friends'.

One SOBER
summer
night,
I was introduced
to Carrie
by the girlfriend
of my good
friend Wayne.

I wasn't
interesed....

at first.

I was sober!

Anyway;

She wasn't
ugly understand
but rather,
she just wasn't
my type...
well,
on that night
anyway.

The following night,
Carrie ended up
where I happened to be,
and on this night
I was partying
and getting
drunk.

I remember,
after each drink
went down...
Carrie was
quickly becoming
'my type'.

Folks were
skinny dipping
in the canal
and I began
taking a good
hard look at Carrie by the bonfire.

Before I
knew it,
my pants were unzipped
and in front
of everyone,
my *****
was in
her mouth.

It's then
I stopped her
to save her
a little face
and instructed her
to go up the hill...
and I would follow.

We ended up
on a
concrete pad,
no bigger
than 5 foot
× 6 foot
in the back of
the west side
rowing club
in the spotlight
with Carrie
riding me like
I was a horse
in the
Kentucky derby.

She was good!
Make no mistake,
Carrie was good!

The next
morning
I awoke and...
my underwear
was sticking
to my *** and
I was confused
as to why?

Carrie,
apparently rode
a winner.

I never had
brush burns
on my knees
as bad as the
brush burns
that Carrie
left on my ***
from that
concrete pad.

I dated Carrie
for the
remainder of
the summer
of 83'.

No reason to
wonder why,
right?

That summer
we went on
to christening
brand new
Chrysler Lebaron
Convertibles
of our friend's
parents,
Carrie climaxing
on church steps
with all of
our clothes on
in front of visitors
from Kentucky
and
so much more.

I swear that
song by Europe; 'Carrie'
was sung
about her.


written by me... ..

She was
like a
carnival.
She enjoyed
freaks
like me.
She was
fun to
ride.
She loved the
games.
She tasted
like
sweet
cotton candy.
And at the
end of
the night,
she would
melt into me
like
Dip n' dots
ice cream.
And then,
I would
lick her
clean.
I wish
this carnival
would never
leave town.



written by me... ..

Her eyes
can not
look upon
what she
hungers,
what she
craves.

Once,
just once
she
pressed
her lips
against mine
with a
notion to
misbehave.

Finally,
at long last
she raised
her eyes
as she
tried to
be brave.

With our lips
locked... ..
her eyes
whispered;

"Shhh...
your love
I will take
to my grave,
but for
now,
please oh please... ..
just grab
hold of
my hips".


written by me... ..

Time;

it always
leaves me
counting.

Even
Edgar Allen Poe.

And I
count the days
until I will
haunt
some of
you.

Like a
crow

you swooped
in
like
Edgar Allen
Poe.

Like a
raven

ebon figures
are full of
misbehavin'.

Like a cat

Halloween left
you trick
or
'treats' fat.

Like an
arsonist

you charcoal'ed
the home
and raised
your fist.

Like a
shadow

you sit
in sin by
satan's window,

Yummm,
let me
devour
your soul.




written by me... ..

In a
mid summer's
torrential
rain,
we firmly
and
tightly
embraced.

Well,
that only
made us
wetter.

You are
cottonwood
and you
fall upon me
like I am
July.

Sit close
to me
on the
tailgate of
my pickup
and take off
that
*******
t-shirt
by the
fire.

Let's allow
this evening
to
quench all
needs and
ANY
desires.


written by me... ..