Life’s about the adjectives,
it’s how we know the world.
Nouns, you see, are only names,
with adjectives - life is knurled.

Think about the apple,
just fruit upon the tree,
red ripe skin with tasty pulp,
better lets us see.

Providing us the texture,
of color if you will,
ADJ allows us space,
to give our lines the fill.

Life’s about the adjectives,
spice for the written line,
Verbs, you see, are motion,
and index things like time.  

Think about the race car,
going around the lane,
zipping fast with lightning speed,
better feeds the brain.  

Providing us the feeling,
of nature if you will,
ADJ gives the taste,
to writings we distill.  

Verbs contain the action,
and nouns have the heart,
adjectives add the flavor,
for cooks of written art.  

Life’s about the adjectives,
how else could it be,
that words paint the pigments,
in poems for us to see?

The line for the local convenience store
Stretched out to Market Avenue’s dirt curb,
Past makeshift street clowns juggling the poor
And the ***-stench of “Population Curb.”

We make like big balloons who self-implode:
Fires to fight fires, guns to fight guns,
Fighting for survival makes mores erode
When a dark illusion has fooled billions.

Little John waits in line with his mommy,
No more than a decade, he learns to shoot.
Life was quiet like a dark raging sea,
Now we shake from a screen and men in suits

Fear not, trembling people of the world,
There is a way to end the gun violence,
To stop making canyons of the knurled:
Guns for all! Shun to think of gun absence!

Automatics in the professor’s desk,
Two pistols strapped to Sally’s little thighs,
End common fear with something more grotesque:
Endless rivers of red and eyes for eyes.

My favorite sun is the one during sunrise because it looks like it's on fire.
it reminds me of the viciousness of the world,
the power of space,
the power of space

My favorite sun is the one during sunrise because it doesn't burn
as much to look at
and it doesn't burn as much when I step outside
and I can drive without sunglasses on and breathe in the air and hold my coffee and look at that rising sun and I can feel
as small and insignificant as I need to
It feels good
I feel better
I burn my tongue on my coffee and spill some on my sleeve
it gets on my fingers but I don't rush to the sink's cold water
I stand and stare at the sun and feel it's heat
and it's like we're holding hands

My favorite sun used to be the one during sunset
but that one is death and the end and sunrise is
beginning and reincarnation and the comfort that
there is always a second chance
and I know of course that that is not the case, that is not true
but I let myself feel it anyway because it's warm

Warm like my bathtub, which I turn too hot and burrow in
and sunrise makes me want to curl under the bubbles and never come out
I do that sometimes
Shut my eyes
cover my ears so everything's quiet and dry there
and drop until my lips and nose are the only things above the water

I lay there for minutes and they feel like hours
and I hear the quiet drum of my heartbeat and breathe with it
and just like watching the sunrise I feel small
and it's good

Sometimes it's different and dark
and I cling to the sides of the tub and push and pin myself as far down as I can
I curl my toes until they cramp
and squeeze my eyes so tight bright lights flicker behind the lids
And try to escape the cold between my shoulder blades, knurled and knotted at the base of my neck
and just like watching the sunset I feel like I'm dying
and it's good

I found your black tie
Between the warped slats
Of the dresser drawers
And a curled
Photo
Of you in Blackheath
Smiling
A hopeful day
Head filled with the universe
Limitless
But that was you
A dreamer they said
And all around you
Harder types
Their spades clanging
With symphonious legerity
For the few bob
They drank on Friday.

You left that place
And moved home
To the frozen sod
Of your birth
And still you smiled
Your fists knurled
Around a shovel
Splitting turf for the fire.
And all around you
Harder types
With reins and whips
They only sought to protect you
From the pain of wanting
What you could never have.

But still I loved your stories
You made me believe
That the cawl and grog
Was pheasant and port
And everyday an adventure
A bud on its axil
You made me
Into you
A dreamer
A sybarite
And all around me
Harder types
Eyes stuck to their shoes
So they can watch their step
And charge me to
Watch mine

In the woods by the knurled burnt oak
Hides a shadow in the blackest cloak
With bent up spine and boney fingers
And a rasp like a hell hound in his throat

Don't look his way just pass on by
Sneak around the moon so high
Hide beneath the breeze that chills
Look out for the shadows that ****

Once you pass the stench of death
Turn to the weeping willow
Kneel down upon earth so soft
And rest your weary head on earth's soft pillow

Close your eye's and let him pass
Hear his twisted bones chime the hour
As he looks for you to take tonight
And drag you into the boggy crag

Do you remember when last we walked here together?
When the fitful winds blew and the leaves fluttered like
Small birds in your hair?
It was in the autumn and the leaves were red and gold
And caught in your hair, blowing about every where.
Behind us, our footprints, so close together, left a
Trail in the damp  sand. Your hand was clasped in
Mine and we were inseparable as the clouds and the sky.
The wind swept up your skirt and you
Danced about, gathering it about your legs.
That was long ago in the time of our youth...
We were so young, and so too, was our future;
All the years were so new. We seemed to have
Forever; the new years stretched out before us.
Time was ours. The future was ours to be
Lived together, to be held tight to our
*******, marked only by the beat of our hearts.
Where have you gone?
Where has our time together gone?
Now I am old.
My body weathers.
My hands are knurled and twisted in pain as I grasp for
Memories of you.
We spent our years unwisely and now must
Pay forever for our aimless youth and our hurtful words.
When did we grow apart?
Why did we not regard with understanding an love the
Word each of us swore to the other?

One grain of sand at a time
has built up to make this rhyme.
Slowly and steadily gaining weight
the burden seemed to be my fate.
Then my poor heart had broken
when forced to have feelings unspoken.

Everywhere was selfishness and spite,
others acting like they have the right
to take without giving back.
It hurts inside, making my mind rack
and making my only solace be night,
when her and unkindness weren't in sight.

No, no, no, no. No! NOOOO!
She was driving me below.
All of the good was becoming dead,
every day disappointment and dread,
sadly dragging through my only life.
I desperately needed more from my wife.

So, I started moving on and looking out
for ways to quench the drought.
Nothing seemed to be out there
that provided the warmth and care
my mind needs to counter the world.
Nothing to fix what got knurled.

Then one day I met the impossible,
life I didn't think was cognoscible.
Now I'm drinking sangria in the park.
There is light were once there was dark.
A brightness that shames the suns sunny
I met my honey honey.

i spied Time a long way off
bent and stooped on wooden staff
his beard too long for me to see
a figure on skyline boundary

i shouted to him at top o' my voice
but never dreamt he'd hear
it seemed i really had no choice
but travel through the years

the years they took their toll on me
the pain, the hurt, the misery,
but when i bent my head to bear
i felt no injury

at times like that i felt the joy
unspoilt timeless eternity
in that moment to enjoy
lack of personal enmity

as time stood still, beyond this world,
a taste of time to come,
then i'd forget that old man knurled
over staff o' mourning hum

but recently he seems much closer
not so nearly stooped or bent
could it be i'm getting older
approaching that wondrous event?

he winks to me and smiles assent
his beard flowing in the winds
patiently, he waits advent
o' when he'll grant me my wings.

he doffs his cap and waves to me
allowing me to see
the path i've trod, the misery
was all so necessary

a heart that's broken
a shattered mirror
reflects more feeling
than one that's clear
than one that's healing
flaws of terror
as each glass shard
cuts hard

each glass shard
reflects a world
forever scarred
forever knurled
a soul so marred
that great wings furled
once a bard
now up-curled

heart that's broken
has wings clipped
words unspoken
and sealed lips
bound with tape
that never holds
longs to escape
and wings unfold

heart that's broken
has jeremiad
of demons woken
as songs o' Iliad
that longs for balm
of inner wound
an inner calm
to soul marooned