I have an incredibly
severe case of
ugophobia.

The fear that
you go away.

When you meet a politician,
do not judge too quickly.
Remember,
once upon a time,
they were human too
and had a heart and soul.

There is nothing
I would not do for you.
And, it seems, nothing
you would do for me.

Don’t blame life for passing you by,
just because you didn’t jump on
when the bus came along.

Negative people only see
the black in every rainbow.

The sun is shining –
“It’s going to rain.”

They never seem to see
even rain is beautiful

If I were a betting man
I’d put all my money down
on America vs. Democrats.

I know that Democrats
are 5 to 1 favorites
to wreck America.

But I have hope.
And faith .
And I pray like hell.

Sometimes the poet drops
poet-tears on paper
for those who cannot
write or cry.

I seem much better
at mapping plans
of what to say and do
after a failure
and losing,
then during the time
when opportunity
presents a chance
of winning.

Sometimes it’s important
to burn some bridges along the way.
Sometimes the only way forward
Is to lose the safe retreat.

When you fractured my heart
You weren’t the first.
Just the worst.

I’ve become cautious
about what I want,
maybe even a little suspicious
that it blocks my view of
what I need.

It seems such a shame
to be a man collecting dust.
The windmill turns no more.
I am becoming rust.

I do not mind being alone
In a room or woods, or
on a beach or street
with just silence.
Sometimes silence
has a lot to say.

I write for me,
mostly I think,
and no one else
because I know,
I am the only one
and no one else
that cares about
these pieces of me
scribbled in books.

But if you like
something you find,
take it please –
sometimes
some times and things
I write just might
be for you, too.

Why do people pick out colors
in a box of M & M’s?
Are the colors that important –
is red prettier than green?

Isn’t that the way
we pick out lovers?
Is pretty more important
than the chocolate inside?

You not loving me
might be the best love
I never had.

It led me to
another road,
a path to
another smile
that let me
stay a while.

And that became
forever.

I seem much better
at mapping plans
of what to say and do
after a failure
and losing,
then during the time
when opportunity
presents a chance
of winning.

Love is as blind
to dance or song
as politicians are
to right or wrong

It’s called FALLING in love
for a reason.
Sometimes falls hurt
and no one is there
to pick you up and
put band-aids on the bleeding.

It’s you –
it’s always been you

Along the way
all the others
were just experiments
that failed
while I looked for you.

I wondered
if I would find you,
wondered if
and when.

And now –
it’s you.
Finally

Love is just a poker game.
Everyone starts
with a stack of chips.

Red for heart.
Blue for trust.
White for hope.

The gamblers walk into the world,
pull out their chips,
and sit down at the table.

Show-down is the game.
Winner take all and
losers go home broken.

When you told me
“I’ll always be there”
I thought you meant
be there for me,
not go THERE
and be THERE
and stay THERE
forever
so many miles
and months away

I prefer
being alone
with you
more then
being alone
or
being together
with others

I don’t think I’ve ever
hated a person.
But a thought,
now that’s fair game.

It can be yours,
sometimes it’s mine,
but I can lambast
anyone‘s line.

It matters not the topic,
and matters not the logic.
All that needs be done
is say it and make it public

I must be a suicide lover –
every time I get killed  
losing at love,
I go out and try again.

Kiss me.
Hold me.
Until I am
No longer afraid
of what I become
with you.

Sometimes I feel the pieces of me
are no more than
socks and underwear,
randomly stuffed in a drawer,
symbols of the pieces of a man
stuffed not so neatly in a mind.

Today I’ll put on yellow socks,
blue pants and green strip shirt,
red baseball cap with
Batman tennis shoes,
and other random choices.

And everyone who sees me knows
my brain is working like my clothes.

I carry a little book
to write down some lines
from time to time

Tonight I started to
write a few about you
and they just kept
pouring out and
sentences kept running on
and words kept getting
all jumbled together and
thoughts were all rambling
and pretty soon
tears were falling and
nothing made sense.
Kind of like you leaving.

Sitting, looking out the window,
only me and darkness
waiting on the Christmas sun.

Wondering what is next to do –
sun doesn’t fix the solitude.
Maybe I will just go out and run.

Run forever, until I find
the mystery edge of earth,
keep running ‘til I’m done.

There are some bruises
collected along the way
that I just never
talk about.

Words, said and unsaid.
Backs turned away.
Eyes, staring fierce
or just turned down

People sometime leave a mark –
probably never knowing
they put a dent in some
unsuspecting heart.

I would guess
I’ve left some too.

Sometimes, I just find a busy street
and walk around and smile at people.

Most of them
Look away
Look down
Look surprised
Look angry
Look back with that
“who the hell are you” look.

But once in a while
someone surprises me
and smiles back.

People with no morals
consider themselves to be
better than the rest of us.

They are not constrained
by laws of God or man,
by honor or integrity

So they are truly free
to create havoc in the world,
without fear of consequences

They make good politicians.

If I could do it all again,
Live my life from start to end,
doing everything the same
is what I’d do -
except the part of losing you.

Love is like a sail boat.
Hope is the wind and
dreams are the sails,
carrying you through
life’s rough seas,
always to home

My sails are
torn and tattered.
My hull is leaking
lying battered,
on the rocks of
Isle Alone.

Tonight the Black Ink River flowed
like coffee from an old cold cup
poured slowly down the drain.

I woke up screaming, and
thinking you were gone,
I went running down the hall
calling out your name.

You stepped out from
the bathroom door, smiling,
and gently touched my hand
and made the night OK.

And then I awoke again.
and you were
gone.
And the Black Ink River flowed

When I found the note
that said
you were moving in
with your lover
I thought it meant me.

I don’t understand why
people fear the darkness.
Do they not close their eyes
to give a loving kiss,
and trust the ultimate unknown?

I pull the blankets overhead,
wrapped around you,
surrounded by the darkness
where we see with only hands.

Sometimes someone passes
through your life, and
years later you cross paths
again, and that’s when
you realize you didn’t know
what you had back then

And then you realize
how lucky you were
you didn’t know.
Because you might not have
what you finally have now.

There is a right
time and place
to say
“I love you”

That time and place
is when you feel it
and know it
and need to share it.

The only other
time and place
might be never
or too late.

You thought
you should go.

I thought
you should stay.

You won.
Forever away.

It was a beautiful hello
Eyes met
Hands touched
Heart dreams collided

It was a beautiful goodbye
To lonely and alone.

Sometimes I feel the pieces of me
are no more than
socks and underwear,
randomly stuffed in a drawer,
symbols of the pieces of a man
stuffed not so neatly in a mind.

Today I’ll put on yellow socks,
blue pants and green striped shirt,
red baseball cap with
Batman tennis shoes,
and other random choices.

And everyone who sees me knows
my brain works randomly like my clothes.

We’d been at church all Friday night,
drinking the holy water.
And on the way to somewhere else
We stopped to buy more blessed stuff

A case of beer, I said,
and I will ride my bike
from here to there
across the railing of this bridge.

A dark steel flowing arch,
at least 10 inches wide
would take me on my midnight ride
over the river to the other side.

My headlight pierced the moonless night
As up the rail I rode.  I yell
You will all owe me –
And then -- OH HELL!

On the down side of that steel belt
The light shone out into only darkness,
And not onto my narrow path.
The tire slipped off the edge – and FELL

Hanging on the bridge, I watched
that 40 foot slow motion trip
and cried out #&%!#@&%$
when I heard it hit.

My bike in pieces
on the rocks below,
the remains a remainder
of a drunken ego.

Ok, it’s 2 AM and
I am sitting in a
dim-light room
staring at a computer
writing prose
about living life.

What a contradiction!

Everyone gets a box
of marbles in their life.
Shooters by the score.

And every day we pull one out
And shoot it at the world.

Sometimes you move the world;
sometimes it swallows you up.

But tomorrow you always get
another marble.

My family thinks
I am very smart
but not so very wise
because when I think of
something smart to say
I am not wise enough
to just shut up.

We loved
therefore
I was.
And am
No more.

Today
Was a lot like yesterday.
It rained, I sat
in a room alone
thinking of you
and what almost was
and now is not.

Tomorrow
I will sit in a room alone
thinking of you.
It could have been – but isn’t.
It might have been – but wasn’t.

Someday
I will get up
and leave this room
where I sit alone
and think of you.
I will forget Almost and Maybe.
But not today.

What will we remember
in the coming years,
if all this ends in tears?

If passion become patience
and dancing becomes TV
and I love you
becomes good-night?

What will we remember?
Good times or just good byes?

She passed in December –
No time is good, but
that seems the worst.

Until you remember
God decorates the heavens
At Christmas first.