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... ..

if only
love were a tourniquet

if only
love were a chemotherapy

if only
love were bombs dropped by a fighter jet

if only
love replaced hate as our full time memories

if only
love would stop violence at every sunset

if only
love were something to never regret

if only...


written by me... ..

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.

Jus' seein' you and my pulse begins to hasten

You unclothe your body like you're at Daytona racin'

Oh girl :
your bikini lines how they got me faintin'

I'm splashin' that lotion on ya that I know I'm wastin'

You're my summertime treat and I can't wait to taste you

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.

Dreams are subconscious realities of the mind.

Colors are pigmented pleasures for the eyes.

Fresh cut grass is the garden of Eden when we inhale.

Life is great anticipation just waiting for exhale.

Nevermind ones wounded pride.

It only seems to unleash a living beings animal inside.

Fill yourself with love.

Give yourself to Him above.

The weight of the world can sometimes find us.

Breathe, not only because it is a must.

But breathe because in God we trust.

Scars will still remain but freed of pain.

Leave the anchor....leave the chains.

Please...oh please, come out of the rain.



written by me... ..

Oceans
claim to
know me.
But only
the river
I allow
to run along
side of me.
Oceans,
sure they
may be
deep.
But a
raging river
can never
be held
in captivity.



written by me... ..

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... ..

Can you hear it call
It howls like a hundred wolves
At a full moons sky
It bends trees like rubber bands
It ripples the mighty seas

your ignorance,
it
tripped in front of me ... ..

it fell down

i stepped on it like i didn't notice it

"ignorantly",
i then kicked it down the gutter

where all of the ignorant live

hope you enjoy your home....

in the gutter of ignorant bliss

you ignorant
*******

Social media
has directly
led to
infidelity
being more
readily
accessible.

It's an
infestation
plague
scourge
recrudescence ,
it's an
epidemic.

The disease
is
worldwide.

Thunderous expression

     Lightning in a bottle

   Rains of life

            Storm of impression

               Violent radar model

  Echoes shaped like a knife

        Winds of Oz

     Twisting landscape

               Mother nature rapes

Soaked bandages and gauze

             Eerieness after calm
  
     Under rubble cries

                 Life in the hand's palm

  Frantic searching eyes

        Flashing lights

The smell of gas

               Unforgettable sights
      
             Once the storm had passed

  In awed reality I stand

if i am part of the storm,

there will be no calm

ahhh,

-the rain.

often,

just in
time
to wash
away the
pain.

to
hide
my tears...

or try
to,

in vain.

the rain,

it feels
mystically
powerful
to me.

cleansing,

refreshing,

a downpouring
of a
new free.

after
a
delightful
summer's rain...

the more
clear,

my eyes
and
my soul
can see.

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

every
shiny
new thing

eventually
ages,
rusts,
gets
old and
turns to
dust.

nothing
or
no one
is immune.

enjoy
the
shine
in your
life
before
you're
dead and
cold.

love
on
that
rose
before
it loses
its
bloom.

i watch them,

standing outside
the funeral home;

smoking
trivializing
laughing.

"another one dead"
"another life over"
i can hear them exclaim.

"i remember when"
"i remember how"
"i remember the way he"
"i remember"
they continue....

cigarettes litter
the ground around them,
cliches and promises break the silence.

then,
a few hugs,
a few goodbyes.

until they get together to stand outside the funeral home once again.

only this time,
one of them is not present.

Being held in the arms of a stranger
in this cold world; can feel fantastic when held at the right moment.

But;

Being held tightly in the arms of your soul mate; makes the strangers and the rest of the world go away.




written by me... ..

when time
stands still
it will be,

too late.

So much sitting there

Upon my wounded mind's edge

But few are privy


written by me... ..

In God we trust.
In Jesus we live.
In life, we are but a mere smudge
on the lens of eternity.

Yellow crime scene tape waves and ***** in the wind.

Lifeless bodies now one with the ground.

Bystanders walk by like they see nothing.

They walk by with smiles like this is somehow normalcy.

The flashing red and blue lights, the dead bodies lieing there.

Even a few of the officers seem unphased by the sight and stench of death.

They step under and over the crime scene tape like it's just a job, which it is.

But those dead bodies​ lieing there did not wake up that morning thinking they would be some one's job to clean up.

This isn't normalcy, nor should it be.

Yellow crime scene tape is used far too often.

Bystanders gathered around it talking like they are at the beach.

Respect that life when it's alive.

Respect that soul when it's dead.

Gathering around yellow crime scene tape like it's a water fountain is not normalcy.

One day those bystanders may be gathered around you by the flashing red and blue lights.

Remember, we are all someone.

Treat them like they are.

I struggle to hear above the noise.

The din of life,

and at my door another choice.

Do I kneel and thank You for another day?

With all of this noise;
my screams...
I lose my voice.

Mumbling,
mute .....the words I want to say.

The heavens can hear me,
Jesus whispers: 'son, everything will be okay'.

________

And.. when I fall down and brush burn both my knees

I know when I look up,
You will be the light that I see

Please love me for the brokenness I am

Even though I've been living on the edge of Your mercy

I know I'm not;

Even though
I know I'm not,
as pure as the lamb.....

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.

Writing grips his soul

His words make haikus and prose

Inspiration grows

So many nights lying awake in bed, in my home but I am not even there.

I am always someplace else by myself, away from life's realities.

Respecting the quiet moments and writing down the thoughts inside my head.

That's happiness,
that's contentness for me.

No need for millions of dollars.
No need for unnecessary status symbol cars.
No need for a mansion to lay my head and call home.

What would be greater is if I could be who I am.

All I want from life is peace and quiet.
Alone time.
I adore being alone.
It's the only time I can be me.

Just give me my mind and a writing instrument.
That's when I am always perfectly fine.

I'm a hard working, very simple unmaterialistic man that appreciates simple things like peace and quiet and alone time.

Give me those two things and you can keep everything else.
The only person that can make you happy is you.

I've known that my entire life.
So, I don't like when I ignore myself.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock and then guess what?

It's all over.

Either wantingly or unwillingly, it ends.

Now you see it, now you don't.

It's like whack a mole.
One day you pop up out of bed and the next you don't.

Every choice that you make in this life is like russian roulette.

Your next choice could be your last.

So at least, choose to be you whether others like you or not.
Afford others the opportunity to remember you for whom you really are, good or bad.

I do this with my writing.
If I acted it out?
I'm a multi century dormant volcano.
I'm a vigorously shaken soda so,
let's just not go there.


So now anyway, it's time to rise up out of bed and go out into this strange world filled with strange people and be filled with anxiety and unhappiness.
[And yeah, I know that you think that I am the strange one and that's okay]

It is time to go mingle with others that do not understand you,
and strangers that you do not trust, even a little.

And let me tell you, wearing a half assed grin is quite tiresome and exhausting around others.

But alas, I'll just go through the motions until I get back home where I can happily be me once again.

Brown and dried up Autumn leaves

Slowly fracture into pieces

Carried away by the winds of today -

into another day's tomorrow.

Up against the decrepit curb

Perilously close to the gutter.

Winds have calmed to just a breeze

With winter snow's they wait to freeze.

"Summer" is almost an aphrodisiac for most,
or so it seems.

Me?

I find it *****, sweaty and unclean.

You work
outdoors
for 8-12 hours
a day in
80°+ heat
like me.

Women joggers
running by
our job sites
and the men
I work with
all panting
in unison.

Me?
What do I do?

I say,
"what guys,
you think that
women don't
get this
'swamp ***'
too
that you folks
talk about"?

Summer is
*****.
Summer is
no
aphrodisiac
for me.

Keep your
nasty
smelly
sweaty ***
away from me.

Yuck.


written by me... ..

the ground beneath a liar's feet,

is always littered with ****

We awaken every day to history.
History under our feet, touched by our hands and mystery.
Moments that will never repeat.
Moments of love and also great deceit.
Inhale aromas that passion our senses.
Exhale the day filled with bridges and with fences.
You are an individual creation.
Understand that every day in the flesh is a celebration.
We aren't sand in an hourglass.
We are memories meant to last.
Yes, today the sun will once again set.
Make it a day that is empty of regret.
Close those eyes of gentle streams.
Save the best of today for you in your dreams.
Tomorrow will come through the blinds as the sun's rays kiss your naked skin.
Tomorrow is more history, another day for history to begin.

How's about
once a week,
one writer chooses
A word.

One word
for every
writer here
to expound
upon and
express themselves
over?

Perhaps on a weekend when possibly everyone has a bit more time to write?

Just a thought that
I think,
would be fun?

Feedback appreciated.

You ain't got a dress that I don't like

You ain't got a pair of jeans that don't fit you just right

There's not a minute in the day

That you don't knock me out, you don't ******* away

But, girl, now that the sun's gone down
(whoa-oh-oh)

Looking at you right here and now, baby!


Somethin' about that southern sky
Sitting back behind that moon
It goes perfect with your eyes
Girl, tonight looks good on you
It's something about the way you're smiling
Making the stars fall right on queue
I just gotta tell you, baby
Tonight looks good on you... ..


I can taste the midnight on your lips

Makes me just wanna lean in for another kiss

Wind blowing your hair around

Girl, it makes me want to lay you down

You've been beautiful a million times

But I've never seen you look like this, no

He said :

Summertime is when he would change some awful habits.

Not serious enough at that moment,
perhaps, perhaps just lip service to those willing to listen?

A game he liked to play with himself.

A game not born of lies,
but rather, "who cares" procratination.

He said :

I'll organize those old pictures I've been putting off.

He said :

I'll finish that poem that has been waiting for it's ending.

Announcing to himself out loud,
or anyone else that would listen....
"come summertime" I will. !

And then...

The coldness of winter still thawing,
his bones still cold.

He notices...
His health deteriorating,  slowly.

A cough that lingers,
shortness of breath.

Energy reserves on fumes,
he falls gravely, unsuspectingly ill.

He says to himself:

Come summertime I will see my doctor.

He says :

I will organize those pictures into a neat scrapbook.

He says :

That poem I will finally write an epic ending for.

Trouble is....

For him,
Summertime never comes.

You, there in Heaven.

You know that I miss you, right?

Miss you baby girl.

She was pure
    
       and untouched;

           like the very first

        crystals of snow.

   Freshly budded rose and

             essence of lilac with the

                   fraility of a fallen leaf

   adhered to the sidewalk.

              He painted her soul

                  with his unique unprimaried color,

     and left her....

                        forever stained.