Tuesday, August 16, 2005


The clanking pauses
Travel sceased for the here now
WC stench strangles


Leaf strewn and shaded
Snow covered peaks overlook
Flashing bluebird streaks


Our travel pauses but life continues

Small children catch my tired eyes

First glance illuminates brilliant dress,

Angelic countenance. Closer

Inspection reveals worn clothes,

Muddy complexion and broken toys.

Adorable cherubim sharing life

My condescending judgmental

Gaze is felt. I turn, my shame

Enflamed cheeks as red

As their natural ones.

Stop along the Way 

Constant noise assails my drums

All forms omnipresent and overwhelming

Focused on my own the outside becomes

The object of my perusal

Early morning sun illuminates and warms

Dingy buildings crumbing rubble leads to

Green and brownfields symmetrically planted

Fires burn trash and heat homes fueled by

wood trash dung

Friendly discourse and joviality envelop

Me. On the sly the populace slips past

In silent toil and obscurity

Ideality life non-existent

Clack clack shake click ramble

We rumble past


A gentle breeze stirs the trees

Rippling waves stumble to shore

Idle chatter surrounds drowning

Wafting island music and crashes.

Slowly the sun sinks into the water

Orange pink and red rays suffuse

The sky, Thatched roofs lend

Atmosphere to the scene.

Helpful staff enforce pre-happy

Hour rush, Thoughts fly

Across the smooth ocean and

Beyond, What the future holds

The stars cannot foretell

Clouds reflect the fading light

Wednesday, August 11, 2004


Undulating clouds
Summer heat dissipated
Lonely bird harkens

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

2 bottles in.... 

Country music

$2 bottle of wine

Heartbreak at every twist and turn

Tunes roll over my soul and shoulders

Sweet pain of love

Courses thru my every cell

There will be resolution

What that will be eludes me

Wine sources meat sweats

Stewing in my bile and excretions

Ain’t no such thing as answers

The road ahead is long and twisted

Let it come

Maps are of no use

Enjoy e’er passing flower

No use in worrying

It will come

Rend my Heart into Innumerable Pieces 

The sun’s rays waft down upon my shoulders
Jimmy Buffet inspired tunes assail my ears
A frozen drink chills my hand and throat
An aura of calm and serenity pervades all
Families rekindle the flame
Lovers reignite their passions
Locals regale us all for cash
At my side sits….?
Have I shattered the penultimate love?
Or is there a loving beauty at my side?
Time alone will tell.
Let answers be found! Well not my eyes!
What will be will be; come what may.

Tossed Off 

Wind tossed touch caresses my chest
Unbeknownst to me there is a plan
Which I can not see from my view
Buffeted by regret and fear
I lay my life on the line in every
Imag’nible way I can
Understood by the few fellow souls
Feared for by the many
I wage on into comes what may
I know not until I reach it
Confused, ignorant, lost and alone
I make my way without trail
Without guide nor machete nor map
Where e’er I find the end,
be it answers or my own demise,
time alone will tell.
Let it begin. I am ready.

Wednesday, December 03, 2003

Ineptitude of Soul 

Draconian solitude in the beckoning wastelands.
Despair gripping at ankle bones,
Dragged along thru the burgeoning darkness.
Weight of the bleakened world ,
Shoulders stooped from the burden.
Where o where is the oasis?
When will the pain subside?

Existence now somewhere between darkness and light.
Murkily the sun crosses the sky,
Sky darkened by dreams unrealized.
Hot dry winds buffet and batter at soul,
Pock-marked with pain it struggles along.
Where o where is the oasis?
When will the pain subside?

The desolate plain gives way to craggly jump.
Towering mountains tear the horizon,
Cleaving their way thru the soil to the sky.
No solace there no respite no lull,
More damaging scars to bear on and on.
Where o where is the oasis?
When will the pain subside?

Monday, November 17, 2003

Insightful Moon

Standing in the road alone but for the stars,
My thoughts jumbled and incoherent at best.
Overwhelming sadness threatens from unseen voids
Eyes well, lips quiver, heart begins to ache.
Reminiscent of forcing down bile on a Sunday morning,
Mouth is bitter, regret threatens to overwhelm.
I can’t explain these feelings or my need to suppress,
Acts long forgotten transgressions ignored,
Coming back to haunt at inopportune times.
One day they’ll burst forth with no wall to block,
I time yearned for with bated breath.
This time is not come,
Feelings forced down until the next.
Soft footsteps on the gravel,
Cool breeze caresses my cheek.
The beauty of the moment purges sad for happy,
Longing for the standstill of time replaces the dread.
A glance at the moon shows the old man’s grin
Looking down on this sad scene he lets out a laugh.
The years gone by have seen much worse
Than this pitiful sack of dismay and self-pity.
Round goes the moon ever round this ball Earth
It will be back tomorrow same smile, same mirth
One day I’ll be gone ne’er to see the old man
So be quick and get over the wasteful issues at hand
Enjoy each today, look not to tomorrow
It may not come then today is a waste

Casting Lines

The line plays out across the waters deep
Its goal is to snare the unsuspecting l’il carp
The lure holds promise of good food, security
But we know that no good will come to the guileless carp.
Sinking beneath the rippling surface the bait eases down
Teasing our carp and titilating his senses,
He moves in to tackle the fishermans bait.
A light nibble, an exploration of content
Leaves our little hero bereft of his lip.
Gaining some wisdom from this unfortunate time
He scuttles off to be tricked ne’er again

Some time hence the arrival again
this mysterious bait and its promises true
Warier this time still bearing scars from before
Our carp has grown larger and wiser
Though no glutton for pain he makes a nibble or two
A quick dash here, a dart over there
The bait jigs around playing its own little game
Its wavering hips promise no harm to you
But buried behind is the line and the hook
Being the dupe he grabs a small bite
He loses more lip but it’s the foolishness that hurts

Castigating himself promising not to fall again
He waits and he waits for the reappearance of bait
The fisher now needs a large carp for his food
Sloth and foppish he is no longer at play
The game has turned serious, both playing for keeps
This time however the carp won’t be deceived
The lure hits the water and drops down to the floor
Tied ‘round a log giving sense of a fish
The line gets a yank but can’t stand the strain
The fisher goes hungry while our carp eats his catch

Friday, November 14, 2003


Darling innocent so meek and pure,
Misunderstood and subject to scorn.
Ne’er a way for you to be sure
Long since a smile on your face has worn

A youthful tyke becomes an adult boor.
Whose scorn doth cause our flow’r to wilt.
Alone in heart like our sighing Moor,
If only memory could be kilt.

My heart it breaks when sign is seen,
I am powerless to vanquish the Pain
And erase the scars caused by such men.
What I would not give to erase the stain.

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