much like my story

36 years of concrete completed and
i have 4 years until retirement from the union hall

but,
the fighting of pain here,
there and everywhere may have me abruptly decide to retire, prior to the completion of those 4 years

just like Luck,
the passion is just about gone because of the everyday fight with pain

i feel for the young man

i know exactly where he is coming from

but in the end,
he made the LITERAL choice of walking away while he can still, "walk away"

a decision that i, myself,
fight with everyday

good luck
andrew!

Sin is sin.
And,
you repent
your sin.

You don't
boast about
your sin
or
march
prideful
in your sin.

You don't
push your sin
in my
children and grandchildren's faces like it's normal when
it's not.

You only do
these things
if you
follow
satan.

So if I
see you
doing
these things?
I will know
and
understand
that you
follow satan.

Left wing
politics
are trying to destroy
this country.

These same
folks
"pridefully"
waving
rainbow flags
have never
waved an
American flag
their
entire lives.

As a
matter of fact.
They scream
to whoever
will listen,
that they
hate this country.

Don't like it?
Move!






written by me... ..

Honey,

you will
never make me
jealous
with that
stooge

I mean really

Hahaha

A runover he is...
with truck
deliberately
in reverse

Spare yourself
the
humiliation

On my death bed,
he could only
half me

We awaken

  We stretch and scratch

Off to the shower unclothed and naked

     Throwing on socks that don't seem to match

          Drinking our coffee with a slice of white toast

Classical music softly playing in the background

      These are the mornings I've grown to love most

        Some rain and it's serenity....one of my favorite sounds

               Birds foraging the worms and bathing in the puddles

A morning of tranquility, a morning without life's troubles

   Listen for the "swoosh" as the morning traffic drives by

          Sit back and absorb it all as the heavens continue to cry

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... ..

the destination
is a culmination
of a life full of great stories,
a life full of everyday worries

a destination can be a sanctuary,
it can be a punishment unnecessary

destinations can be final
and for that there is no denial

amber sky so
littered with wings

i find muse
as
beauty avenges the abyss of despair

fragile are the soft moist lips of your lover

but;
even more fragile,

are the words that fall from them

I do have a bucket list.
I also have a f%^k it list.

Neither list is very long you see,
about the length of your average song.

My bucket has never been filled with greed,
the homeless, the hungry i'd love to feed.

Love to get caught between the moon and New York city,
lay naked under the stars and yet come across witty.

Be a bartender in the tropics while making magaritas,
turn to Margarita, I hope you enjoy your drink senorita.




written by me... ..

Maybe,

maybe
when my
heart beats,

it beats
because
of you?

With wings on your shoulders all dressed in white,
your angelic garb and color, they fit you just right.

In the distance a harp, it plays a heavenly melody,
you close your wings to protect and fully envelop me.

Dancing on the clouds like two foolish men,
laughing and smiling on our stairway to heaven.

I reach for a star, no care if I fall,
you smile at me, now you can have them all.

my body,
my mind,
they are
a palette of
deep tumultuous pain and twisted
wicked pleasure.

a poetic sea
of spontaneity
with
climactic
beginnings and
endings that
women with me;

will measure.

measure you,

and see if your
words are merely
words or if
you too can become a ****** poem in need of
censure.

a poem i am,

that stands tall
through the mist
along side women that ache to be
caressed and
seduced inside
the mist and into a blur.

a poem i am... ..

albeit abstract but,
gets your juices
to stir as you
read
'this poem'
for perhaps... ..

which there may never
be a cure.

once read;

reality steps in
and selfish passion needs to
endure.

with our bodies;

we have written
poems on summer nights in ***
filled sheets and
bottom lips that
drip with sweat.

a poem i am,

that has never failed to make any
woman wet.

fifty two years and none of the five will i
ever regret!

let's write another
poem in tomorrow's
sunset.

a poem i am;

a poem that you,

unlikely... ..

have
ever read or met.

Ice cream and peanuts

Cotton candy and Spring time

Baseball season's here

Therapy oh therapy,
what shall thou mean to me?
Will I be attentive at all,
or posture myself with a sneer of scrutiny?

Shall there be some type of revelation or epiphany to
bring me to my knees?
Can I arrive at being the man I once was, unbroken,
the man I again long to be?

From the gallery of peanuts will it be judgement free?
I am not approaching a burning bush,
you certainly are not HE.

Will this therapy set free what feels like a tormented soul in captivity?
Can this fog be lifted enough;
provide a path that I can finally see?

The price if not can be steep,
eternal darkness may well be the fee.

childhood
   sweethearts,
that's where
some of us
   had our start.

we thought that...
   we knew
what love was.

our immmature
minds,
     sweaty palms
and butterflies
     abuzz.

much to learn
       we did....
about the
     birds and bees.

just ignorant
   children,
promising our lives
       on bended knee.

some relationships
   made it through
the storms
      of young
love.

riding rogue waves
   and keeping the
boat afloat
      and in....
turbulent seas
     our heads above.

unique are
    the lovers that...
made it through
   every tornado
and every hurricane.

you are the
    lovers that....
took this love thing
to heart and never
   watched the other
leave for good
       through a
window pane.

i salute
  all of the childhood
sweethearts that
     never allowed their
love's to fall apart.

i'm envious
    of your dedication
and how you
    loved completely....

    one heart!

Fragile are the moist lips of your lover.

But;

even more fragile, are the words that fall from them.


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... ..

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... ..

When people see courage, they are drawn to it like a magnet.

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... ..

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


written by me... ..

It rained.
It rained upon the mature tree that lives along the river's edge.
A defiant tree that grows against the wind's best.

It rained.
It rained upon the mature man walking his young prancy pup from garbage can to garbage can.
Empty bags to start,
but at the end,
2 full bags in hand.

It rained.
It rained upon my 94 Sierra pick up truck that faces the fog stricken river.
Rain drops glance methodically off of my windshield and at the moment, my shelter giver.

It rained.
It rained so worms would come from hiding and wiggle along the ground.
Wiggling worms that are snatched up by 6am birds with nary a sound.

It rained.
It rained to replenish this paradise and to quench a thirst that never wanes.
A thirst for plush greens that can be admired from every windowpane.

It rained.
It rained on me as I toil and persevere to provide.
It rained and muddied me, a man that puts his pride aside.

It rained.
It rained again this day.
It rained without apology.

written by me... ..

We have
no powers
to make
this last
forever

So,
let's just
make sure
that forever
is tonight

Knockin
dem boots
on the
4th of july

90° sweat
drips from
our bodies
and  
lower lips

You taste
like
fantasy

Forever,
tonight
can be
felt in
your hips

The stars
all applaud
and before
the moon
we take
a bow

The crashing
waves against
the shore
provided
our rhythm

Exhausted
in fever,
forever
was tonight

Devastated
years ago

You left me... ..
unintentionally

My voice
of forever
reason

The sanity
in all of
this world's
insanity

My bedrock
foundation
in a land
full of
quicksand

My hydration
when my
lips were
parched and
my throat
was dry

My very
best friend
that I could
talk about
anything with

You had
all of the
answers like
a Jeopardy
champion

Now... ..
I labor to
find all of
the answers
myself
because
I trust no one
else and... ..

there is no
replacing you
Dad

Many say
how much
that I look
like you and
sound like you
but,

I can't be you
because,
there is only
one you

David misses
you... ..

Ciao ciao for now
until our
saddened eyes
do meet again,
until we both
regain our
infectious
smiles... ..

I
Will
Endure




written by me... ..

The rays of
moonlight
through the
curtains,
highlighted
her body
that was prone
on my bed
in all of
my
'push button'
places.


Like;
Duran Duran
I was suddenly,
"Hungry like
the wolf".

And also like;
Duran Duran
what came next
was my
"Reflex'.

I mean... ..

After all;
like
Duran Duran
there was
going to be a
"New moon
on Monday".

The table
was set
with one less
place setting.

No more
fresh
corn muffins
were baked.
No applesauce
to be found
on the
table anymore.

And
after dinner
was finished...

No more,
"Bob; would you
like a cup of coffee"...?

No more,
"well
of course Sally;
suuuure"...
could be
heard anymore.

He's gone.

Never to
be seen
or heard
from again
at momma's house for our family get togethers.

Lung cancer
made
sure of that.

i want to
wrap your
body up
in yellow
caution tape

because,

your
body is
a crime scene

I've nothing left to prove.

My ego
and manhood
has been comfortably
watching Hallmark movies
with my wife
for years.

Boosting your ego
is a senseless
waste of energy.

Don't self subscribe.

Allow others to
subscribe to you.

In my field of 36 years of heavy highway construction?

Your ego
would wilt in the summer sun
along with you.

Again,
I have nothing left to prove to anyone in this life.

My 50+ year old ego needs no stroking.

It's called security.
It's called confidence.

And a confident man I am.

One folk
writes like
Poe.
Another folk
writes like
'Joe'.
'Joe's' words
are
ham sandwiches
for the hobos.
Poe's words
are poison
inside the
hater's veins
that systemically flow.




written by me... ..

Eyes.

Eyes,
they can
tell us oh
so much if
we dare to
peer deeply
enough.

More than
a
"window to
the soul"
but rather
the meeting
place for
everything
about you
in the universe
to go... ..

and to
grow

into an
unforgettable write
by
Edgar Allen Poe

and a place
where,

me, alas... ..
is filled with
very little
woe.

Behind those
eyes are where
life lives
and where
life dies.

Stare if
you must
because,

behind
my eyes is
an enchantment
of
paradise's
skies.

Spring time.

A time for squirrels and birds to defrost their tiny feet.

A time for life to come out from under the winter's snow and to live again.

Spring time.

A time for all life to live once again.
Whether it's the crickets, the critters or the squirrels?

It's time for all to live once again.

Enjoy the red cinders floating by in the sky from the bonfire a few streets away.

The smell of lighter fluid, charcoal and hot dogs grilling a few doors down.

Enjoy the jet's trail in the aqua colored sky as it soars miles above the Earth.

The sound of the waves crashing upon the beaches shoreline.

Enjoy a cozy thunderstorm and the lightning that turns night into day.

The quiet time during that thunderstorm to write and to feel so connected to life.

Enjoy it all because soon enough, winter will be here once again.

Fall,

I fell in love
with your
warm inviting
rustic hues
so very
long ago.
The smell of
burning wood
and hot
apple cider
wafting by me
from the mill
down the road.
Oh how I
long for
scary Halloween
movies with
Jason, Freddy,
Michael,
a witch and
a black cat.
Pumpkins and
spice and a
hoodie with
a hat.

Autumn,

every year
I fall for you
like leaves
that fall from
their trees.
The October air
that is fresh
and crisp
with each
Autumnal breeze.

If I could
marry a season?
For you
Autumn,
I would fall
to one
bended knee.

I miss your
romantic aura
that unlocks
my passion's
passion with
only your key.

During your
season... ..

I have never
seen anything
quite more
remarkable or
beautiful than one
of your trees.

Fall,

you
captivate... ..

you
mesmerize me.

waking up today -
the sun is bright -
yet i see darkness everyday -
with what seems
no hope of ever seeing light

pondering this day and what life has in store -
i push myself hard just to get out of bed -
another day for my tears to hit the floor -
another day alive but really walking dead

sure i smile, sometimes earth size'd -
on the outside i look great -
but with -
people like me... there's something you don't realize -
n the outside i'm great
while on the inside is depression and a bitter debate

assist me in carrying on with words of love and positivity -
don't knock me further down or darken an already onyx day -

fight this war i have, i everyday wage within me, with me -
assist me to breathe on this saturday with the comforting words that you say -
assist me on this day away from my inner torture and help me to be free !

when time
stands still
it will be,

too late.

If time stood
still?

I would push it forward.

No need to be stuck here longer than intended.

Let the young live.

Let time move quickly and ****** us all like the homicidal maniac it is.

I don't ever want time to stop.

As I move slower, I want it to move faster.

I threw all of my broken watches and clocks away.

Ah yes, that sweet sound....

Tick tock