The fence was so high and the wall so thick and I was armed simply with a stick
the grass was high and grabbing on, my soul was weak my energy gone.
I ran with all my body could endure, looking for a decease I still couldn't cure.
An answer I couldn't find, a bell that wouldn't ring, a song I could never sing.
I was lost in other words hanging from an old oak tree, that only some can see.
Where do you go when everything has been seen and all the fruits are lean?
Climb and climb and run for your life, don't look back at torment and strife.
You will only survive in glory, if you recognize that you will always be a story.
We all dance to a different tune, knowing the song will be ending soon.
There will be a symphony amongst the screams and blooms within all the dreams.
Don't go to bed empty or walk away sad, don't leave your thoughts alone and mad.

She walked towards me , slowly yet steady, eyes fixed on mine.
I gazed back, lost and wondering just what I would find.
Our story was sordid but love often is and then dies
it was made up of torture so painful, full of lies.
Of course I love her and I want to hang on
I wonder is what we had ...that war, finally gone.
I hear thunder in the distance as lightning heats the sky
I wonder if losing her would be worse than if I die.
I wait until she approaches me, hands held out in ...please
I can't help but think she still knows how to tease.
It's been a trembling moment, one so filled with doubt
I finally turn and walk away, I need to go without.

WHC/2013

Don't we all sometimes stagger and fall, and taste the dirt
don't we all sometimes wake up to the morning sun and feel the hurt?
Perhaps we all have similar souls that somehow feel the same
maybe we all have minds that short circuit and feel the pain.
Are we all that different when the scorecard is examined  quick
aren't we all just a little disturbed and perhaps a little sick?
I think we are but I can't complain, I have no easy way
to make sure that tomorrow will be a better day.
So I will grab on to the present and hold it close in fear
there is no point in feeling pain that causes us to shed a tear.
Shoot it down, it's useless it drags us back each and every day
but it never stands loud and clear and shows a better way.
I guess I am out of here, alone and on the road
a pack upon my shoulders, feeling pain from yesterdays load.

WHC

A beak chipped with wear and conflict, wings tattered and shorn, we
continue on to our destination, unlike man who falters and cries in fear.
We have but one goal, to reach our destination and continue our world. A world built on flight, family, and fate. We face the winds, the chill of ice the heat of the suns glare and continue on. We spread our wings as did our ancestors for thousands of years before our birth, behind our trail our young ones, following blindly to their predestined world.
This is what we do, we migrate, we breed, we repeat and repeat, but who knows that we dream. Perhaps no one ever will.
We do, and our dream is to continue without fear of loud sounds that drop our bodies to the cold damp ground, that leave young ones alone.
Perhaps in times to come beauty and grace will send up a signal to those that
stop our path and needlessly leave our young alone to die…if we could speak we would only ask why.
I fly, I will always fly

Somewhat quickly I would run, upon the field of green and sand,
leaping boldly through the air, seldom caring where I’d land.
Reaching out o’er space and time to catch a ball of light
to capture and to hold it and end its destined flight.
I bounce, I fall, I throw and run, like a firefly in heat
trying hard to show the world the magic in my feet.
Up again with hands of gold I play like Nero’s toy
and fiddle with my leather glove as if it were a ploy.
A way to win the diamond war when all was said and done,
I loved to stand and yell support in the blazing summer sun.
The grass was always greener there, even in the dark
A field without its players always looks so stark.
I’m satisfied I’ve had my turn, now others come to play
I pray their joy will be as grand, as mine that summers day

I stumble when my tired feet attempt to walk,
I stutter when my ancient tongue tries to talk.
I count the years and fear strikes me cold
I know now that I am afraid of being old.
A wrinkle arrives most every single day
No amount of treatment can make it go away.
Rest does little to appease my constant fear
I think about the other side and shed a quiet tear.
Will I miss my loves, my dreams and such?
Will I still long for someone’s warm loving touch?
Age always works for wine and cheese
But it is a tragic enemy of memories.
Dreams become less important and almost dry
No warmth or promise not even a gentle sigh.
Tread lightly when you wake each morn
Try to recall that special day the one when you were born.

In solitude with the devil's tune
I wait and ponder fate
Torn between the now and then,
I balance love and hate.
The magnitude of loneliness
looms across the room,
trembling as I try to sleep,
I hold the hand of doom.
The game is never ending
because I've yet to hear my name,
ringing to the multitudes
exalting words and fame.

Winter's bitter wind digs into our bones like hot flames
it takes its toll on all, not taking any names.
Run to reach the car or bus, get out of the raging storm
how can pain and torment, become the daily norm?
We live so far from the earth's hot center line
we dodge and push the wind away, and pretend that winter's fine.
Like love that never works we wait for it to end
temperatures that fall can never be a friend.
We need the burning star to close the distant gap
like the fading runner pushing in the final lap.
Spring will come as a new love does in green and some in yellow
buts its always like a lovely woman not just a friendly fellow.
Today will be a memory trapped in a frozen mind
wrapped in the warmth of springtime and all the love we find.

Standing on the corner, with roses in her hand,
She stared at all the faces, that passed like drifting sand.
No one stopped to break her thought
or carry off a rose,
as the winter wind, brought freezing rain
through her torn and ragged clothes.
Darkness never seemed to come,
as the neon pierced her eyes,
and it hurt to hold the basket
of roses no one buys.

Does a tear fall on every letter you write, or maybe not,
do you think about what you used to have or what you've got?
Do you wake up in the morning still hurting from the night,
does the memory of the moment  still cause a vicious fright?
Maybe then you know the price you have to pay for flying high
sometimes we will survive, sometime we may die.
Crawl into a darkened hole and cover your ****** ears
but then you won't have any hands to wipe away your tears.
It's a sad life to live this party game, always in pain
grabbing and stabbing, reaching for whatever you may gain.
There is a shelf life to all you do and even all you dream
it will all come to a nasty end  worse than you ever could seem.
Try to fly and get above all the damp clouds and the sun
you lost her in all the reverie and she was the only one.
Its over, love played out and bled until it died a sad death,
now you  live for what is still to do with a quiet breath.

WHC
Oct/2013

The weight of a huge chipped and worn rock lies upon our shoulders
it threatens our air supply, our energy is low and we are weak.
What little air breaks through is merely dust and dirt simply
meant to hinder our escape, to force us to scream in pain.
We will not....we will hold our breath until the clean sweet air of life
feeds us and stirs our souls and hearts to carry on. We will not weaken
again, we will not allow rocks and dust and wind and rain and scars from our past to prevent us from breaking free....we are different....we have more ....we are stronger and better.
We have purpose, meaning and time. We will fight and be wise and use love and wisdom and courage to protect and guide us.
If either of us is left alone the other will carry one with a soul resting on their shoulder for guidance and love .......we are a team.

I am an endangered species because I am the only one
what will happen when I die and I am finally done?
It will be as tragic as the day the sun finally dies
or when a lover gets caught telling foolish lies.
There is no other species quite like me or like you
we are lost in a world of circles with cages from the zoo.
I will stretch my ability to see and live as long as I can
daring the society that laughs at me to find another man.
I will watch the stars streak across the midnight sky
jealous of their movement and the way they silently fly.
I know time has a painful limit and calls each of us,
we must stand up when our name is called without a fuss.
In the meantime I will smell the flowers and sip the wine
listen to the music and read the stories line after line.
I will pretend that I can't hear when someone finally calls
I will not move but stand like an old car that stalls.
I will refuse my place in line and look staunchly away
maybe they can try again on another more dreary day.
Today is far too sunny and made for a walk in the park
and tonight will be too warm and gentle in the dark.
Just say no, there is no reason to admit or agree
keep on walking through the trees and feeling free.
Many more years are planned for me and  you
many things are waiting for us to try to do.
So say goodbye to leaving and hold on tight
for the ride is not over until your out of sight.

I wander aimlessly around my tiny world, cringing at the pain
I worry about tomorrow’s plan and curse at today’s rain.
Joints of hell and fire make every step a burden,
yet no end in sight and more of the same is certain.
I want to stand as tall as a little man and breathe fire,
not be known as a poet without words or a liar.
I want to battle through the agony and avoid the tears
I need to dig a little deeper to make sure I hide my fears.
Older may be better when discussing the fine wines
But in the body of an old man it’s a world of wrinkles and lines
I recall the early days as many writers do, words flowed like beer
music never stopped and there was always more to hear.
Looking in a morning mirror is a terror in itself
I see the face of a statue that belongs on someone’s shelf.
Where is the smile and all the character that made me young
where is all the harmony for the songs I’ve always sung?
Will this happen to everyone as years slip through their hands
Will all my friends and family watch the sifting sands?
Time will tell I have been told as I wither and fight on
I hope the best of me is coming.... but not gone.

The day seemed as it always does, turned suddenly to night,
my peaceful sunny moments turned to darkened fright.
Like so many things, the change just isn't always good,
we didn't do the many things that we thought we could.
Tomorrow I will be better, I will give it a better shot,
getting through the next day without the fear of getting caught.
Black nights turn to sunrise, or sometimes to dismal gray
it's never ever knowing that gets us through the coming day.
We just don't know who we will touch or what words we will use
we don't know if there's an offer there that we just can't refuse.
Not much is really predictable or left for us to share
just finding a loving soul mate and someone who shows they care.
If luck is on our tortured side on that moment that it shows
then happiness full of waters cool like a rolling river flows.

Copyright
WHC/2013

A gravestone worn with age and wind
Leans toward the west
A monument for what’s his name
Who used to be the best.
Those who knew him stood and wept
As they watched his final show,
But after this performance
There’s no place left to go.
Will they come back to see him now
as a friend without a stage?
Or simply write of what he did
on a torn and yellowed page.
The entertainer made us laugh
He put music in their head
But nothing fades like the memory
Of a man whose show is dead.

At 3:02 the last bomb fell, smoke and ashes spread,
wiping out survivors that were counting up the dead.
Buildings lay in rubble, piled throughout the street,
as the country once the master met such grim defeat.
Some bodies moved in search of food while others screamed and cried,
By 5:05 in the afternoon all but two had died.
A youth whose eyes were lost in flames, stumbled in pain and fright
as a woman lay huddled in a smoke filled room hiding away from the night.
For three long weeks they survived this way, just barely enough to eat.
The future of a rebuilt was lost, lest the two should meet.
The blind man staggered in bricks and trash,
falling and crawling through the smouldering ash.
Death was creeping up on him for he heard the steps behind,
when a woman’s scream pierced his ears and thoughts raced through his mind.
Face to face at last they stood, now the world could grow,
but the youth without his vision was the last of two to know.
His hands reached to touch her, but she said “ it can’t be done”
Then she took him in her arms “My God I’ve found my son”.

You're at the bridge now, cross it son,
but try not to look down.
On the other side if you make it there
you'll wear a golden crown.
Just a few more steps and a few more tears
and the singing will be loud,
come on boy you really tried,
I am sure she would be proud.
A man can't grow on the dying side,
there is no feeling in his soul
an uptight mind of emptiness
just trying to be whole.
The social wars break him down
to where he just can't feel,
but maybe on the other side,
the wounds will slowly heal.
Careful now we don't want to fall
there's a hand at the other end
My god I hope she can realize
how very much I need a  a friend.
Look straight ahead at her open arms
and pray they'll hold you tight.
it's a long way down if you start to slip
and you'd soon be out of sight.
Just one more step, you need her mind
it could be just the final key
to the gold at the bottom that we find.
Hey wait girl don't turn and run away,
he watched her face and he crossed the bridge
and he has so many damning words to say.
Don't back up, my arms just can't reach
and I haven't touched you yet.
Help me now or I'll surely fall
and they'll watch my gravestone set.
The bridge is getting shaky now
she's turned to hit the road
The hang ups start to pull him down
and he drops his heavy load.
He can hear the music on the other side
as the bridge begins to crack.
It's too late for help he's going down
his body's on the wicked rack.
A silent thud and it's over now
and they sweep the mess away,
and carry the loser's beaten head
on a shining silver tray.

If I can’t quite see tomorrow and can’t deal well with today
Can I close these eyes that blind me and somehow find a way.
Will I fly up to the heavens, or will I drop down to the seas.
What if I’m not there to comfort, just at the time you please.
Well I’ll cry, yes I’ll cry, just as any other would,
And I’ll climb back up that hill again like any lover should.
Here we go, here we go, up another hill, trying to see tomorrow
Or what our dreams will ****,
Its not heaven that can hurt you, but the clouds that slow the way
So I’ll move my love at the speed of sound and reach you in a day.

Last night I dreamt of you, it was musical, sad, yet happy and alive.
I tried to stretch it out something like, a long summer drive.
It was full of memories, magic and touching with care.
I looked at all of you from your baby toes to your hair.
I danced with you slowly and close sometimes off beat
I tried to remember the miracle that caused us to meet.
I may never get to replay all the passion that once was there
But it doesn't and won't, ever change the love, and the way that I care.

Gentle whispers stir me on to places I've never been
steering me towards the many stars I've never seen.
Perhaps a trip to paradise will sometime lead me home,
then I will no longer search or feel the need to roam.
I know the road will end somewhere that's warmer then today,
and never a need to strive for happier things to say.
Do we all follow special paths that force us to dream
lost in wonder and magic where things aren't what they seem?
There is no shame in wishing just sadness in losing the chance
to hear the beautiful music and share the wonderful dance.

Sometimes we think we know the world and all that dwells within,
perhaps we think we just aren’t loved and that is such a sin.
Not in ways of holy books or idols on the shelf,
but a sin against your own esteem, for we need to love our self.
How could one stand in a pleasant place, where love gives off a glow,
and still be heard to say, they really do not know.
Love is in the food we eat and how it is prepared
love is in the rooms we share and how another cared.
Love is in the time we have though often not enough,
love is in the hours no matter, smooth or tough.
Puppies too have loved you without ever saying so,
Yet here I am a simple man, who never lets you know.
I give in the ways I understand and sometimes they are weak
When I know that as a woman its loving words you seek.
So here it is on paper, it is the way I am
A simple little poet, not worth green eggs and ham.
But even though my words are poor and pockets full of air,
You must feel after many years, the poet does really care.
WHC

A man trapped in habit and silliness, I waited with baited breath
but this year my special day was torn from me by his tragic death.
We would sit as a tandem in the spring sun, two noses in the air.
pondering lunch, grass, lilac buds, but not harbouring a single care.
A dozen years such a short and faltering era, one I can’t explain
we shared our time, we shared our souls, and most of all our pain.
The first warm rays of spring brought us out like two old bears
airing out our empty souls and throwing off our winter cares
Facing the sun grinning in our own special way, a pair winding down,
a brave and furry warrior and his faithful adoring clown.
So I guess it’s over, the sun doesn’t shine quite as brightly today
I sat there alone, an old and lonely fool with nothing left to say.
Perhaps this year, spring has a new purpose, to usher in the end,
my faithful old friend has left me and I have no garden to tend.

Late nights and brilliant moons and star filled skies
never manage to answer all my questions and whys.
I will continue to sing in the shower and scare my soul
but sometimes my own bad music makes me whole.
Do we all have those nights when we are confused
when we feel so defeated and often badly used?
I seek a light to brighten my dim and darkened  world
a glowing, shining sun that like a flag unfurled
will open my heart and bring warmth to what is within
and at very least give me a chance to finally win.
I need to put down the bottle and brush the lines
off the glassy table and put the cork in the wines.
Do we all have these moments, these nights of doubt
the times when we think we will never get out?
I need to escape and my words are the only way
yet as I write I torment myself at least for another day

As I sit in a chair full of apprehension and worry
I also want things right and not to hurry.
I need support for a giant change in life
I need to know someone will be there through strife.
It is hard to know who will step up and who will hide,
it becomes a very emotional roller coaster ride.
A guiding light is failing me in the time of special need
I have to be out front not someone who is a afraid to lead.
If you hear me ....reach out and hold my hand at this time
to help a drowning man  will never be a crime.
Step up and lend support in my hour of need
I have to know my soul is alive and will be freed.

As the air turns brisk the leaves fall like coloured paper on the disappearing green
I take on a daunting task that most men in the new world have never seen.
I stand alone in a brightly lit room with music playing equipment at the ready.
Trying in a way only the ancient would know to keep my hand firm and steady.
How many more opportunities like this will play out in my final living years?
Pain racks an aging body and soul, I am now only afraid of fears.
I grasp the blade and approach the task at hand careful with every slice
Trying to be sure beyond doubt that all I reap will be enough to suffice.
This is the chore that comes about perhaps twice to a stalwart man
Standing over the carcass, glaring and planning as only a hero can.
This turkey has lost and I will clean its sturdy bones until they shine
When the job is done and the bowl sits quaking on the board...he’s mine!

I wonder at the depth of the soul and does it ever end
is it like a card you buy but then you never send?
Does it just sit in there hidden and waiting to fly
or is it sitting in there simply waiting to die?
It is a puzzle for all who believe they have one
but better to wonder each day then have none.

The keyboard calls out after beer and gentle drugs give a nudge
I have a plethora of burning thoughts but my fingers won’t budge.
I want something sweet and comforting with a sweet tone
But fear and anxiety have cut me deep to the bone.
Its not writer’s block but a fear of tomorrows story
I fear it may be very messy and gory.
Who knows what bus will be the one or perhaps a grenade
Or standing in the cold of a Santa Claus parade
Don’t think too much it can cause many bad cuts
It can drive the car of life into several deep ruts.
Dance everyday though no music is playing
thinking all day on what your soul keeps saying
Dig up some words never heard in this life before
The ones that will be remembered and cut you to the core
Your legacy has the value of a suitcase and some ink
Hoping what you’ve written down will cause just one to think.

Leaves of varied colours scatter as a promise of tomorrow,
The winter winds may bring chills, ice and bitter sorrow.
The scourge floats through our homes traveling on personal spit
Seeking a new customer and a friendly place to sit.
Masks and gloves cover faces and hide our sad expression
But these thin disguises cannot eliminate our growing depression.
We wait for an easy answer from a pile of helpless failed leaders
Knowing full well they won’t succeed they are all just bottom feeders.
We older souls just sit and wait with anticipated anxiety
While politicians turn to money and cloak the choice in piety
Kiss your treasured love ones and hold them very close
They are our only hope for a love filled vaccine dose.
We are the ones they will sacrifice at every single turn
As the fire continues on in rage we are the ones to burn.

Together in Age
Deeper then the cracks on the summer sidewalk yet
strong as the wind that the heat will share and set.
That is the tune of our long lasting hands in chains
and the description of all our loving pains.
Words are weak and never tell the story.
yet pictures cannot either they would be too gory.
All there is stands before us in a picture of gloom
One of us will go soon and leave a lonely room.

Just when a man settles and takes to the idea of peace and quiet,
just when a man realizes the value of family and earthly delights
along comes a pandemic.
Just when a man hears music in a more intimate way and reads words that bear a deeper meaning,
just when a man begins to understand and accept the near future and what it may hold for one with many years in the bank,
along comes a pandemic.
Just when a man appreciates subtlety, cold ale and a fine meal,
just when a man learns to be grateful for what he has left behind and for all the memories he has created
along comes a pandemic.
Just when a man can sit in the sun and feel the warmth and look forward to a peaceful night’s sleep
Just when a man feels repentant for crimes against his own world
and is prepared to accept his due
along comes a pandemic.
Talk of karma perhaps eases some bitter minds, many find blame to lay at the feet of others but it matters not because
along comes a pandemic.
No path is left unmarked, no trail leads to safety there is nowhere to hide.
Because along comes a pandemic.

It may not be a melody you know or lyrics you can sing
        But like an old worn bell I hope you’ll hear it ring.
        You won’t be able to dance to it or even hum along
        But at least it will remind you that I am truly gone.
        It won’t be a melancholy tune full of lonely tears
        But maybe it will remind you of all our happy years
        No one else will hear it, drifting through the breeze
        But perhaps the gentle notes will cause a stirring in the trees
        Being gone isn’t always such a sad and lonely thing
        It opens doors to all the joy new beginnings bring
        Listen for me when I’m gone I will always be there
        Sending out my words showing how a man can care.

Please keep the noise down I’m trying to grow old
It’s hard and it’s painful and wickedly cold.
I need more flowers, more brilliant green trees
More people around who stop and say please.
Let’s have some music and don’t let it stop
Crank up the volume, don’t dare let it drop.
Each day a new wrinkle with a memory to match
I try to recall the story and reach for the catch
So often I miss it’s just too far away
Yet memories we grab, have so much to say
Please help me remember and bring back the day
When words were my friend, with something to say.
Please don’t be angry if I can’t speak your name
I see your eyes and the soul is the same.
Please forgive me for not being with you
I’m not far way and there’s a lot you can do.

As years and days pass by and leave small shadows
I spend more and more time buried in angry fear
At an advanced age I struggle running through meadow
I also find that daily I fight to hold back the odd tear
Am I sad am I afraid or do I have a hidden foe
If I continue to fight on daily can I win this fight
Is there ever a victor in a war without any woe
As an old an battled man in ill repair
I try to plan my battles very carefully and few
But then my old confusion proposes a dare

Old eyes stare at faded walls,
A glance at a landline maybe for calls
Yesterday crosses the line of sight
But disappears in a heartbeat like a fright
Its been so long and it burns in red
Starting now to wonder about all the dead.
A little music and a little beer for some
Anything that makes an old soul numb
Plants grow while they stare at the sun
Some of us worry that life is now done
Darkness brings no sudden reprieve
But sometimes sad memories will leave
Morning always brings more of the same
We look around and wonder who’s to blame
Kids are gone and I am in the dark
Sometimes a call, a token, cold and stark
They take another soul away, I listen
I close my ancient eyes as they start to glisten.
Maybe it’s not an ending but a start
To teach all the young ones to have a heart.
Lonely is in the rear view for all of us
When we are carried out we won’t make a fuss.