“Sometimes I feel
Like I've been tied
To the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Good lord I feel like I'm dyin””
Allman Brothers
<•>

two words arrive unscheduled no comprehension no intention;
a great taunting for the guy who claims he plucks ‘em
from passing breezes and hazelnut trees

creation capture

meaning just a biting *******’ feeling,
Allman brothers Pandora in on it too,
playing to make sure
I’m in touch with my roustabout feelings

“Sometimes I feel
Like I've been tied
To the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post
Good lord I feel like I'm dyin'”

got it - the poems revolting
and they are...making it hard

the lesson i’m learning
the poems are the boss
you ain’t nothing but a whipping post boy
wright right what you’re given, no misgivings -
a treat you don’t deserve
you ain’t nothing but our
creature captured

forty years in the desert and maybe then
the promised land
let you know when you suffered enuf

meantime meet us and Leon in Atlantic City;
poetry ain’t nothing but rolling dice, playing craps

mostly you lose


Bastille Day 15:00
a country tune for a county boy

Ebony
silhouettes
inked
by a dying sun,
portray
lovers embraced
in
the synergy of one.

Inseparable
dreams
slowly
morph into one …
subservient
to the
whims
of the compliant
heart’s
drum.

And
azure pools reflect
a
tie-dyed denim sky,
as
enchanted dreamers
seal
their love with a kiss nearby.

Twinkling
stars confetti
the
emptiness of space.
And
as darkness descends,
shadows
swallow all of the light’s trace.

Reality
pauses …
as
time seems to stand so still
to
the depths of their very souls,
motionless
they swim.

Paper boats sail
With little paper sailors
And their little paper hearts
They belong to a sea
Of broken blue acrylic

Paper aeroplanes fly
With little paper pilots
And their little paper courage
They belong to a sky
Of rich and dank enamel

nothing is real

Little paper people
Walk restlessly around
Some little paper town
They have no home
They don't belong

In this paper world
Where we are all
Just being eaten by
Mildew
Waiting for paper rain
To wash us all away
To wash this Paper World away

It's not a dream
It's just on paper
That's why

He arises in the morning
with nothing to say
He arises in the evening
after being quiet all day

His thoughts they are a dancing  -
The future is dark
The past is bleak
with nothing to dream

The dawn it arises,
At night, the sun
it heads down
Time it stands still
when you have nothing to say  -
You've tried your best in
your own way
Nothing seems to come
but
despair and dismay.

A lover she comes
A lover she goes
Your creations,
they all grow trite
and old

Playing cat's cradle
with a line of string
at the tear line
not knowing
whether to cry
or go numb

Like our lives,
a spider web
on a tree
blowing and shimmering
in the sun light winds.

He arises and dresses
Heads out for his day
With nothing to say.

So I traveled to a curious shop, so quaint
At the farthest corner of the earth
Where they shop, genteel ladies that faint,
And then swoon at the drop of a hat

Upon arrival I turned the brass handle
Opened the door and peered inside
The place was well-lit by a single candle
Suddenly the door swung open wide

And yes, I was met by a charming smile
"It's a lovely day is it not, little miss?
Come my dear, shop, and stay a while"
Then whoosh! A long black cape!

Candle flickered, room became breezy
As dark shadows danced in corners
And strangely I began to feel uneasy
As I asked for Fiction and Fable

She’s
a
Beautiful          piece
Of  
                  broken
roses

One        thing        I’ve        come        to
  Observed   A   Rose  flowering   Plant
Always    Grows  back     Stronger
Blossoms Evermore  Beautifully
Regardless How many
Times   It  has been
Step  
On  
Or  
S  
  C    
  O  
    R  
          E  
                 D