The best we have
dress in olive drab
or blue or white
and go fight
and die forgotten
by those dressed
in politician suits,
who get statues built
honoring them
for sending the best
to die and lie
beneath forgotten crosses.

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.

I put Wits End
in my GPS,
to help me find my way.
It said I was already there.

This can’t be right,
I thought, and
drove to another
side of town.

And when I tried again,
plugging in Wits End –
It said it’s where I am
and also where I’ve been.

Hey! Someone somewhere!
It’s me, over here.
Another someone somewhere
looking too.

Looking everywhere,
both ways at every corner,
for someone somewhere,
lurking, searching too.

Love,
if you should decide
to someday
try me again,
please don’t.

I could not
again
be what I was
with her

and I cannot
again
be what I am
without her.

Hello
Will you dance with me?
Hello,
Will you hold me, please?
Hello
Will you marry me?
Goodbye
Hello’s the word before goodbye.
It’s just the word before goodbye.

She named him Alfred.
The tree where we would park
and talk about dreams
or climb in the back seat
and create our present scenes.

Back in the days
when people parked
instead of tweeted
and loved instead of liked.

She called and said,
Can I come and see you?
I need someone to talk to,
and you’re my only one
when I need like this.

Read me those poems again, she said,
the ones you wrote not long ago
about the guy who loved someone,
so much but never told her
how much he really cared.

Read me those poems again, she said,
about how she never knew
he dreamed of her,
imagined her touch,
and kisses from her soft lips.

Read me those poems again, she said,
make me believe there’s someone
somewhere out there, like that,
thinking about me.
A man who wants to love just me.

Reads me those poems again, she said.
about someone who loves like that.

I can’t believe, I said –
I can’t believe you never knew
these poems are all about you.

They’re all about you.

You thought
you should go.

I thought
you should stay.

You won.
Forever away.

You and me,
we disagree
about Democrats
and rioting,
socialism
and increasing taxes,
illegal immigrants
causing lower wages,
betraying farmers
fostering hatred of Blue,
and failing our schools.

Is BANG BANG all you have to say?

Just a random thought –
It is truly a wonder that
husbands are not pretty close
to being perfect people
when you realize
how very often
their errors and transgressions
are pointed out to them

Sometimes I stay up too late
and I start to think
and then I think too much.

And when I think too much
I start to remember,
And then I remember too much.

And when I remember too much,
I start to drink
and then I drink too much.

And then I go to bed
and stare at the ceiling
and I stare and think too much.

And when I go to sleep
I dream of losing you
and then I dream too much.

And then I wake up
from my dream of losing you.
And then I scream too much.

Everyone has a song
deep in their soul
It’s the dream
that makes them whole.

Makes them believe
in God and love
and all that’s good.
You are my song.

Poets are hoarders,
collecting every memory
and emotion
and random thought,
and putting them
on a scrap of paper
or in a notebook
or a file somewhere
until the notebooks
and files and piles
of scraps of paper
become an infinite
collection of the mind’s
random capacity.

I watched the moth flittering
around my light, frittering
time and life away.

And in the light of day,
below the light, he lay.
Dead and gone.

Like the words I meant to write
to say,
to make you stay.

Don’t leave me alone.
It’s not that I am
afraid of the dark
or monsters under the bed.
I don’t hear noises
or fear knocks on the door.
I don’t watch scary movies
Or have nightmares.

Please just don’t leave me alone.
I am already that.

They meet in the corner at McDonald’s
every Wednesday.
Old men drinking coffee, talking softly
And every now and then
the club gets smaller again.

Everyone thinks it’s just old men
with nothing to do.
Passing time and watching time passing.
But the manager knows why they come
and he gives them coffee free.

Together many years ago
they shot down two planes at Pearl Harbor
Landed at Omaha Beach
Survived the Bataan Death March
Won a Silver Star and two Purple Hearts
At the Battle of the Bulge
And freed Auschwitz.

Just old men sitting in the corner at McDonald’s
Every Wednesday.

The Silence
of a 3 AM walk alone,
and
The Silence
of blinking stars
and
The Silence
of a missing heartbeat

are not as quiet
as
The Silence
of nothing left to say
after goodbye.

There are so many stereotypes –
All blacks are rioters.
All women are feminists.
All Hispanics are illegals.
All whites are racist.
All politicians are liars.
Ok – so that one’s true
.

I’ve fought the demons and dragons
far too long it seems.
Real ones and those in my dreams.

I wasted youth
chasing eagle-dreams.
Unable to catch High-flying winds.

And wasted manhood
Fighting dragons, just surviving.
I’m  tired of trying

I’m quittin’ today,
I’ve had enough.
This is the end.

I’m joining the whispers
you hear in the wind.

There was a young lady back then
Who started the music again
With poetry flowing
And emotions growing.
But she left and the words just quit rhyming

Just where she is
and where she goes
and why
but her God knows

and where he lies
in restless rest
and cries
her God cares less.

I heard today
A man is dying

I guess that’s
insignificant
in this age
of atom bombs
Viet Nam
Kennedy’s and King
Iraq, Iran and
Afghanistan
And 50,000 dead on roads.

I mean,
he’s just ONE man.
JUST one.
And what’s just ONE MORE?

Those of you
who think this true
do not know
the man is you.

I love
You love
We love

I love you
You love me
We love us

He comes
He loves

He loves you
You love him

I go
You stay
He stays

I cry
You love
He loves

Been holding on, doing ok
Kinda, some days.
Not really though
Just what I say

I keep moving on,
Running through the night
Down this nowhere road
With no guiding light

Tired of feeling
like just getting by
and losing hope
at the speed of life.

I think you are
my in-between love.
The one between
my last heartbreak
and my next one
with you.

They were kindred spirits,
so very much alike.
One man leads a company.
Writes business plans.

The other man writes poetry.

The one, what I pretend to be.
The other, me.

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.

We are all the CIA,
members from birth
‘til we leave this earth.

Some join openly.
Some never know
they belong.

But the
Creative Intelligence Agency
is part of everyone.

Some write.
Some paint.
Some sing.
Some hug their children
and wipe away tears.

But we all
make an imprint
on the creative soul
of man.

Thank you for dropping in -
I know your time is short
And mine is passing quickly.
So quickly you will

Learn to tie a bow,
count to 10, and
catch a ball

Make you own ponytail,
drive a car.
Flirt.

Find a guy
Say good bye.

Darkness
is a lack of light
like existence
is a lack of love
is a lack of life

and I know

Man was not meant
to live unloving
so I cling
to thoughts of you
and love unliving

while

I hope for more
than mere existence.

We loved
therefore
I was.
And am
No more.

Marshmallows
are just clouds
you can eat
or squish
between your fingers.

Clouds
are just marshmallows
all grown up.

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.

She was just the one you call
for a last-minute date for the ball.
For a quick fun trip to the beach,
or a painful trip to the mall.

She was just the one you call
late at night, just to talk,
or early in the morning
just to go for a walk.

She was just the one you call
who made anything fun.
How did you not see
she was just The One, after all?

We are the homeless,
that faceless blob in tent cities,
under bridges, on park benches,
in doorways and the woods.

We are the homeless,
the ones without TV
to hear the lies about
for every one and unity.

We are the homeless,
that’s what you call us,
our name is just Homeless,
not John or Jane, or even people.

We don’t vote and
we don’t donate.
We don’t burn and riot.
So our voices are never heard.

We are the homeless,
People, not just homeless.
Homeless People Matter Too.
HPM2

Love is a colossal flying kite
and all you can do
is hold on by a thread
until is slips away
or comes crashing down.

Your eyes have hands –
I bet you didn’t know.
They touch, more than fingers
and hold, more than arms.
They hurt, more than fists
when you simply look away.

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.

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.

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

Until you remember
God decorates the heavens
At Christmas first.

I have this tool –
I don’t know what it is.
My dad gave it to me,
and his dad gave it to him.

8” long and 3/4 “thick,
3” across the head,
made of solid steel
weighs about a pound

I’ve used it as a hammer
And used it as a punch.
It works well as a lever
and also as a wedge.

One day I’ll give it to my son.
And like my dad did to me,
I’ll let him forever wonder
just what the hell it is.

Everything evolves.
Species improve
or become extinct
Mountains and oceans
grow and shrink
Love
grows or goes.

For the first time ever, I understand
how hard it is to be a man.

You’re smarter than the other guy
but only half the time.

And smarter than the women –
NEVER

I won’t care
if you
take my hand
and dance like you and me
were meant to be.

I won’t complain
if you
drive me crazy,
your hands and fingers
waltzing on my skin.

I won’t mind
if you
take me home, and
hold me in the dark.

I won’t mind
if you
whisper in my ear
tell me I’m the one.

No, I won’t complain
if you
dance like we were meant to be,
drive me crazy with your touch,
hold me in the dark,
tell me I’m the one.

And I will cry
someday somewhere
down on my knee,
if you just
say yes to me.

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.

I saw you sitting
all alone
staring blankly
at your phone.

They all walk past
and none say Hi.
No one even
sees you cry.

They all pretend
that you aren't there.
Alone is not
a place to share.

Come sit with me
and take my hand
Talk to me.
I’ll be your friend.

I strongly dislike
People who hate.  
Because of color
or where they lived
or who they love
or even their favorite team.

I strongly dislike
People who judge.
As if they know “right”
better than you.
I leave all that
For God to do.

The Past and Present
are the same.
I live them both
and loathe them both
equally.

The Past, ever unchanging,
haunts me never ending.

The Present, ever unforgiving,
tramples my daily living.

The Past and Present
are the same.
The past all night
The present all day
The same haunting thoughts
that won’t go away