A day or so of yesterday
I walked this land in joy.

Why am I so lonely now?
Why am I still here?
Waiting, always waiting.
Longing – where is she?
There is no end, I fear.
I will not be free.

Looking back to gentler days
and forward not at all
I find myself
Just wishing
that my life
would
simply
stop.

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.

Man is basically just
heart and soul and mind..

Some lose heart
and become the cruel,
who care only for themselves
and no others.

Some lose soul
and become the evil,
who care nothing about
damaging the world.

Some lose mind
and become the crazy,
who care little about
reality and truth.

Some lose all three,
and become politicians

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

A heart on the run
can’t be much fun.
Just good for a little
time in the sun.

So I’ll never be
THE ONE.

I’ll never be the
photo on your desk.

I’ll just be part
of a collection
In your iPhone
memory chest

Women are the #1
cause of drinking.

When you find the right one
and times are fun,
you drink to celebrate.

When the right one
becomes the wrong one,
you drink to forget

And when there isn’t one,
and you are hoping for one,
you drink to pass the time.

I am not sure how it happened
I am not sure why
I thought she was saying good night
But she was saying good bye.

Sometimes,
in the dead of night
I remember us.
Not how we started
or even how we ended.
Just the goodness
of being us

The path through the woods
Seems to entice the eye
The solitude is clamoring
Calling, screaming, that I
should follow it
to that quiet place
where I can dream
in solitary space

Poetry is that secret panacea
meant to be shared
by those who pain so badly
that only literary
band-aids help.

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.

Tell me what you’re feeling.
I know that’s not an easy thing.
Tell me if your leaving.
My heart can take the pain

Tell me what you’re thinking –
do we still have a chance?
Tell me what you’re hoping,
or is this our last dance?

Even if this is goodbye –
(that IS my greatest fear)
tell me what you want to say,
not what I want to hear.

I am the Raucous Liberal.
It is my right to protest.
Ardently and violently.
Not only for my beliefs
but also against yours.

Freedom of Speech
is mine, and only mine.
If you want to voice
an opinion that differs
I WILL shout you down,
shame you to silence,
boycott your business
and call you racist or
any other derogatory
name I choose.

I will hide behind
worthwhile causes
to create disruption
and destruction.

Freedom of speech
is mine - and only mine.
You have no right
to disagree with me.
So shut the hell up.

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.

I could give you words
and things
and thoughts
and moments in the sun

and promise you
no promises to break
if you’d just let me
love you for a while

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.

After she left
I thought a lot
about why she was gone.
I racked my brain
for all the things
I didn’t say
and didn’t do.
Until I finally understood -

Sometimes,
good things just die
A tree grows old.
Your dog grows old.
And sometimes,
even love grows old.

I am dancing naked in the rain.
There is no better way to dance.
And nowhere else to dance.
But the rain.

I do not dodge the drops.
I do not try as I once did.
There is nothing else to do but dance.
And in the rain.

I did not really dance before,
although I really thought I did.
Before I learned nothing is stronger
than the rain.

And I wore clothes, back then
when I really thought I danced.
Before I learned of the need for nothing
in the rain.

I am dancing naked in the rain
It’s doing its work, beating me down
Until there is no one remaining.
Just the rain.

Forget me –
my smile
laugh
tears
and anger

Forget me –
my touch
caress
hugs
my ***.

Forget me –
holding you,
wanting you,
loving you.
Leaving you.

Forget me –
I am gone.
I am no longer.

When love
is lots of pieces
of someone
I hide my address book away
for that rainy day
when love
again becomes pieces
of lots of someones.

I’ve had so many
cuts and stabs and
holes punched in me
by the women who
passed through my life,
that when a new one
comes along and
we drink a toast to us
I leak all over
everything we try to be.

Be a candle
in the night.
In the darkness
Be a light.

Too much hate.
Too much spite.
Share your kindness
Be a light.

In the middle
of the fight,
be the peace
Be a light.

There is no need
for always right
win every fight
words that bite
fears that incite
to prove your might
The world needs help
just being alright.

Be a candle
in the night.
In the darkness
Be a light.

We always talked about forever.
Now, as I walk down the hall
the last time
turn and look in your eyes
the last time,
walk out and close the door
the last time
I realize –
Gone is forever too.

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?

Love is an hourglass,
the slow trickle
of a relationship
building like flowing sand.

A couple grains of smile,
a few more grains of kiss,
a lot of grains of laugh,
some grains of holding hands.

Each grain of sand,
memories of another
“moments like this”
grain of together

The flowing pile grows
‘til one says I love you.
And one answers back
I love you too.

Tonight I’m setting up
A GoFindMe site.
I need everyone’s help
For someone
To GoFindMe me.

I believe
in Santa Claus
Peter Pan
the Easter Bunny
and Love.
Although sometimes
I am not so sure
about the latter.

I have a friend,
named Pen Dulum,
a handsome man
who loves the pretty ladies.

And sometimes
my friend Pen
also loves the
big, stout lads.

So I guess it’s true,
what everyone says.
My friend Pen
swings both ways.

I fear losing you
because I fear
not trying hard enough
or doing enough
or being man enough
to make you stay.

She stabbed me in the heart, and
walked away without looking back.

The pain is slowly killing me –
someone please, pull out the knife.
Hold me, kiss me, give me life.

Another grain of sand
on a summer beach
waiting on a midnight tide.

Another leaf
on an autumn tree
waiting on a winter wind.

Another flake of snow
in a winter storm
waiting on a warmer sun.

Another drop of rain
in a spring shower
waiting to evaporate

We are all just waiting
for whatever takes us
forever away.

The silence is louder
than any cannon
in the moment
before battle begins.

I crouch, waiting,
scared, angry,
ready to ****
the man across the field
who is my enemy.

And in the moment
before battle begins,
I realize
that I am also
the man across the field.

I am millions
of men across the fields
in thousands of battles
through thousands of years,
waiting
in the moment
before battle begins.

Do not say I’m handsome –
I know too well I’m not,
with tracks of time to mark
the memories I’ve got.

Say instead you’ll stay a while
And let me share your touch.
There’ve been too many through the years
that would not give that much.

Watch for me.
I slip by easily,
a breath of wind
on April nights.

Watch for signs of me
in the road
to know that I have been –
dust, disturbed
by feet shuffled restlessly
in places I have pauses too long.

And if you look to find me,
do not look where I have been,
for I do not return.

There is a struggle
deep in my gut –
between the lie that
I don’t miss you
and reality

A battle between
believing that
I don’t really need you
and the fact
that I really do.

A war between
I will forget you
and the fear
I never will.

Two loves diverged in the words, and I
I was the one that said goodbye.

And now, for countless nights
Long since gone by
I sit and wonder why.