Most people declare
Some New Year's resolution,
But after just about five weeks
They experience New Year's dissolution,
Their resolve fizzles out
Their intentions migrate to another nation,
Let's rewind the narrative
I propose a New Year's recommendation.

Taking into account
The party excitement of January one,
You will promise yourself almost anything
To have a couple more hours of fun,
But with the hangover that comes next day
You may feel a sense of degradation,
So far your resolutions are in the trash can
What you need is a New Year's recommendation.

Recommendations allow for some wiggle room
Instead of being ****** for what you do or what you don't,
When choosing the lesser of two evils
You can opt for the lesser instead of the one that you won't,
In the world of N-Y resolutions
You may feel cursed when you blow it the first time,
Whereas with New Year's recommendations
You realize you haven't committed a crime,

I hope to start a new trend
Where we stop beating ourselves up,
When we make a couple of egregious mistakes
But that is just the half-filled cup,
Leaving room for the better intentions
That are bound to return sometime next week,
When your New Year’s Recommendations
Are discovered at that hot new boutique.

Omicron, Omicron
That name is a winner,
Everybody is talking about it
At breakfast, lunch and dinner,
We're not blaming it on China
No, Africa instead,
Still, we have already imported it
Along with wine, cheese and bread.

Merry Christmas North America
Let's party like 1969,
Back when we laughed about pandemics
And everything was fine,
And now we have a new guest
He is a party animal for sure,
Omicron is the name
And it's kind of catchy, that's for sure.

A pleasure pastry must have sweetness
As a qualifier of completeness.

I saw a lady
Hanging up a sign,
I thought maybe for a yard sale
Until I heard her whine,
She said her poodle got out
And she’s on the run,
Yes, her poodle got away
Probably having fun.

A photograph showed
On the front of that poster,
She said if you find my poodle
I will give you a toaster,
And I’ll cook you a meal
With seventeen courses,
Because my poodle escaped
Along with all of the horses.

She said the poodle got out
At half past eight,
When someone at home
Left open the gate,
I asked, what is the name
Of your runaway poodle?
She said my sweet puppy
Is called Snicker-Doodle,

I thought…………
Poodle has been gone about two hours,
Maybe she's down at the bar
Having whiskey-sours,
Celebrating herself
For finally getting away,
After being in the yard
For a year and a day.

Poodle got out
Because she wanted to play,
Without a chain around her neck
(That's the human way),
To manage one’s pet
When you live in the city,
Poodle got out
To get ***** and gritty.

Poodle Got Out signs
Everywhere I look,
Maybe that’s the advice
In the Lost Dog book,
Engage the neighborhood
With the core of your drama,
Snicker-Doodle on the run
If you see her; call Momma.

I'd rather have a ****
Than a shart,
I'd rather have a bed ache
Than a headache,
I would prefer a scratch
Rather than an itch,
And I'd rather be filthy rich.

But instead I understand
It may be better,
To be satisfied
With a consonant letter,
It's more common
Than a vowel, my friend,
Than an x-y-z perfect
At the end.

I won’t argue with the
Ideal of perfection,
Because it’s more than just
Natural selection,
Hard work and ambition
Rule endeavor,
You may be short
With the largest pure lever,
Balanced on the fulcrum
Of perseverance,
Expect excellence
But settle for clearance,
Otherwise disappointment
Makes failure too easy,
And if you give up now
Your efforts look cheesy.

Roses are red
Violets are blue,
This secret admirer
Has eyes for only you.

Roast beef is red
And bruises are blue,
The sun fails to shine
When I'm without you.

How's that for romance
On this day, Valentine?
Won't you grant me my wish
And be only mine?

Flavors and odors of themselves
Can prompt a recall of events long passed,
I'm tasting a Port wine tonight
And a memory of you came up fast,
Was it the excitement of the moment
Or the smooth taste of the wine?
Or was it the memory of much more
Sending tingles down my spine.

A little bit of both working together
A technicolor recollection, I can say,
The combination of good times
Were enough to cause the memory to stay,
Lodged in my brain fibers
Inspired by a simple twist of the cap,
Remembrance of the sweet kiss of Port
And you were sitting on my lap.

Yes, memories can tell stories
That might never have been,
In the hands of a writer of fiction
At the behest of my imaginary twin.

You try it sometime
Cream Sherry or sweet Port,
A best friend at your side
Keep your secrets and never report,
What transpired that day
Those few months in that year,
And when you're three decades older
You will hold those memories dear.

We are so close,
As close as two lovers can be
Who no longer meet each other
On the terms that their affair demanded
And yet they separated without animosity,
Without hatred.

We are so close,
We think alike in many ways
We have a mutual respect
We care about each other
We are friends,
In Love.

I know I must be someone
But I don't remember who,
I have a job somewhere
But I don't know what I do,
I have some friends and family
But I don't know who they are,
I would find them if I could, you know
But I can not find my car.

Sparkle Girl visited for Christmas
She's 5-1/2 going on 13,
A mesmerizing bundle of energy
If you know what I mean,
She can demonstrate TikTok videos
Knows all the dance steps and ****** expressions,
She has no clue what the words mean
Nor their lasting impressions.

I wished for a lady
How far did I look?
Why, right here beside me
She was coloring her book,
My eight year old daughter
With her stencils and chalk,
Her imaginary world
And make believe talk,
Such a wonderful sight
As I watched her at play,
A woman tomorrow
A child today.

Stop drinking alcohol
And see what transpires,
Use it instead
For the leaf burning piles,
In the middle of the driveway
In those yesterday years,
Back then we used kerosene
And still the smoke produced tears.

Stop eating chocolate?
Not if I have a choice,
I have it every day
And feel like a Rolls Royce,
Luxuriously comfortable
And with power to spare,
I'd rather give up water
Or purified air.

Moderation is key
You know we've all heard that,
Whoever said it first
Deserves a thump with a bat,
An instructional proverb
Across centuries and cultures,
If you paid for that therapy?
Well, thou hast met vultures.

When I was single at forty
I was only eighteen,
If you knew what I implied
You would know what I mean.

I have always held the theory
Our age is frozen when we meet,
The one that we love
That one we hold so sweet;

And we move forward from that day
But chronologically, we don't change,
So really, I'm just forty-six now
Come now, this isn't so strange;

Because when I was forty-six
That sweet lady, she was ten years younger,
And just one look at her
Well, I was filled with a hunger

I didn't know that I was quite so famished
I guess my best friend, could have told me,
But at the time I was distracted
It didn't matter what she sold me.
Reality wasn't working for me
Too much makeup and perfume,
Enough scent in their detergent
To clear cockroaches from the room.

I was searching for a love
And the candidates were few,
I took so long to declare my interest
All they could say was, "who are you?",
So, why should I blame them
I needed something spontaneous,
Just seek an imaginary woman
And call it extemporaneous.

So now and forever
I'm only forty-six,
And the woman that I'm with?
She's prettier than pixy-sticks.

What is the thing
What bothers me the most?
Relentless streams of visitors
Or the ever-present ghost,
He rattles in the closet
And hides behind the curtain,
At times, I prefer the ghost
Over visitors, that's for certain.

I can talk to the ghost
He doesn't talk back,
He tries to throw ectoplasm
But his aim is out of whack,
Although he manages to frighten
The ones who see him not,
I guess I'm some kind of emissary
The only friend he's got.

Everywhere I've worked
There has always been a ghost,
I think he's a greeter for death
Like your friendly Walmart host,
Essentially, non-threatening
Offering his invisible, twisted smile,
A member of the welcome wagon
With his own peculiar style.

There have been she-ghosts
But they bear a different role,
As experts of duplicity
They come to recognize the soul,
Do an assessment of lifetime value
The good and bad and the duration,
Flip a coin and do the numbers
For the ultimate destination.

All in all, I count my blessings
For the role I chose to play,
There are wonderful people I work with
Each and every day,
And when unending streams of visitors
Fray my nerves like overcooked toast,
I can stick my head in the housekeeping closet
And talk to my friend the ghost.

The original dream
Shared a vision of happiness,
Harmonious circumstances
Character witnesses to a life,
That flowed unerringly
Across a landscape
Of perfection.

Then came the descendants;
Other dreams,
Where illusions were introduced
And the landscape underwent
Subtle changes,
Twists and turns
Seemingly random, chaotic eddies
Fractal logic prevailing;
The dream deviated
Always pushing and swelling
At the edge of
Its ever-expanding territory.

Standing anywhere along that edge
One can see a little more or less
Of the horizon
Than at any other position,
Equilateral sight
Into the possibilities
Of the future,
And looking back
A seemingly random path,
And though chaotic
It clearly made sense,
At each individual instant.

The tenderest of moments
The tentative kiss,
The touch of a memory
Reminds me of this.

Where silence surrounds
And love burrows deep;
In visions of beauty
These things I will keep.

I sat upon the bluff last night
I looked across the canyon,
I deliberated destiny
I was my own companion,
The sunset spread across the sky
In a thousand colored tones,
Ancient voices echoed from the walls
The wisdom in the stones.

The evidence of centuries erosion
I have touched,
The absolute infinity of loving
I have clutched,
The tenderness of kindness
Presented by a friend,
These are things that have beginnings
But never have an end.

1994  (Paradise CA, Skyway Bluff)

One step ahead of me
Climbing the stairs,
Deep in the caverns
We travel in pairs,
When you can't quite reach
I push from behind,
Together we seek
And jointly we find.

I'm so close to you
It's causing me pain,
My heart wants to hold you
It's too much of a strain,
Though I currently stand
As your confidante and friend,
I might fall in love
With you in the end.

Too close for comfort
I’m vulnerable too;
Afraid that I'm falling
In love with you.

Thought I'd call you tonight
But realized it was late,
I'll try again
At a later date.

I remember the good and bad
Times that we spent,
Those moments went quickly
The many places we went.

I think of the future
And the years in between,
Since I saw you last, friend
So much has been seen.

I think of old friends
And the one known as me,
Then I wonder if ever
I can share it with thee.

You know my heart toes out searching
For friends such as you,
Because the value I'm seeking
Is owned by so few.

1982

Tumblr queries
"Where have you been",
I live an uninvolved life
Absent of sin,
Each every day
Is peacefully sublime,
Don't ask me to plan
I just don't have the time.

There was a time I wished
That you would be,
The perfect valentine
For me,
In time I learned
It wasn’t so,
I asked you out
And you said no.

There was a time I dreamed
Of another life,
Where we lived together
As husband and wife,
But that was a period
Long ago,
Beyond the veil
Where memories grow.

There was a time
A fiction, a fantasy,
Where you would walk
Along side of me,
One day I awakened
To discover and learn,
You were somewhere else
And it wasn’t my turn.

Here's a funny story
What a five year old knows,
A lot more than just
Fingers and toes,
She can't read very well
But she knows about Love,
And when you read through this story
You'll say, "Good heavens above!:"

She visited today and
We went to the playground,
Red Magnolia flowers
Were just lying around,
They were so pretty
She brought a few to the car,
To give some to her Grandma
Now, that's raising the bar.

A couple hours later
She was talking about a date,
Flower petals on the stairway
Leading up to bedroom eight,
And I began to get suspicious
Wondering, what is she talking about?
Her home does not have a stairway
And her parents are more roundabout.

Google-search is my friend
“Rose petals on stairway leading to bedroom”,
Instantly 25 photos of Valentine ideas
Adult themes pushing bing-badda-boom,
From a five year old child
Where do these images arise?
YouTube, Roblox and you name it
They consume this stuff all day; no surprise!

A first generation immigrant family
There is hardly a reading book found in the house,
Brother and sister age five and seven
**** on their iPads like a scurrying mouse,
No limits are set, no blocking of content
The parents are clueless while the kids are engaged,
With TikTok videos of gyrating and gesturing
A five year old groomed to be teenaged.

The end of the story: this is how it went
Grandma and Grandpa were guided up the stairs,
To stand at the edge of the bed
She told us to kiss while she hid behind the chairs,
I made a loud lip noise but she wasn’t fooled
She shouted, “No, you really have to kiss”,
Remember what I said at the start of this poem?
Good Heavens above, what her parents do miss!

I think about you every day
And though we're far apart,
I talk to you this silent way
The whispers from my heart.

She sits there by the window
Her coffee keeps her warm,
With her books and study papers
Sheltered from the storm.

Dressed in winter colors
Sweatshirt dark and denim jeans,
Comfort found in simple threads
Where complexity convenes.

Steam rising from her coffee cup
Casts a shadow on the glass,
It shades the pure reflection
Of such a pretty lass.

She sits there by the window
Gazing out beyond the storm,
Her coffee cup is empty now
Her body finally warm.

Your new baby, first baby
So special and unique,
Such delicate beauty
All wonder and mystique,
Truly a blessing
Incomparable to others,
Under the best of all circumstances
Two wonderful mothers.