Aug 08 2008
I am so tired
weary to the marrow
exhausted to the teeth
You neither make my pain
nor own it
for it belongs to me
alone
exquisite perhaps
but I see no beauty
there
Trapped in the moment
frozen like a dacquiri
meant to refresh?
I think not
waiting for release?
I hope so
My joy is in
my joy
my pain gives it
meaning
that
is
all
copyright 2008
Aug 05 2008
Mind twitters,
tipples,
teases,
topples
Late moon rises,
reaches,
rouses,
roars
Head hurts,
howls,
haunts,
hovers
Typical Tuesday
copyright 2008
Jul 16 2008
Weeds became
dragons and
warriors of the
dark
Clouds assumed
ghostly attitudes
posing aptly
and waving to
me
Strangers were
villians and thugs
neighbors unwitting
victims of same
Cats and dogs
were children sweeties
to be protected
dressed and
disciplined
Playmate…
my partners
in crime
detection
and make-believe
Daisy fields
my grand stage
for dancing
twirls
and heart broken
ballads sung to
stray cats
I mean, my
chidren….
Dark dank basement
a dungeon
that held my
captives when
lucky enough was I
to snare them
School
a prison to
stage many
escapes
poolside my
caribbean hide
away
My mind
the only
travel agent
I ever
Needed
copyright 2008
Jul 13 2008
Have to get out
of myself
My clammoring head
my ceaseless, peaceless
gray matter
Hit Parade
marching soldiers
of unrest and
calm anihilation
Where’s the trapdoor
that I placed for
this occasion?
My out escapes me
I can hear
the baying hounds
who catch my scent
Thirst for blood
take no prisoners
Time
won’t make this better
there is no better
to make
The noose puts its
hands about my neck
Maybe the squeeze
will be
a welcome relief.
copyright 2008
Jul 10 2008
I sheltered true
from the storm
of CHILDHOOD
and pirouetted through
dangerous waters
Deep and all consuming
Hiding well my
pride &
self knowledge
beneath
plaid clam diggers
and curly pigtails
Eyes, green and
kalieoscope
never missing
a trick or a snick
or a snat
Taking notes
Mama didn’t
know
she still doesn’t
Jun 15 2008
Dear Dad,
Still here, missing you.
How are things
going up there?
I wonder sometimes,
what it’s like where you are.
Do they have boats
in the harbour that you
can watch and dream upon?
A nice, warm place
for you to nap in?
Baseball? Camel cigarettes
and black coffee?
Bowling and Budweiser?
Perhaps a camera shop -
what do you think
of those new-fangled
digital numbers?
And Photoshop?
Are you playing Johnny Cash
on your iPod?
I’m still here, missing you
growing tomatoes,
reveling in summer days
looking forward to the
4th of July
watching the moon and
asking it to send you
my love.
copyright 2008
May 09 2008
Mystery morning rings
makes leary curiosity
scowl at phones and doors
My fog has not yet lifted
my thoughts still tangled and
captive in a messy heap
of yes, no, maybe…
The Java God has not
blessed my logic straight
My mutterings worse
than the neighbor dog
roused by unnamed demons
sniffing outside the fence
What poppinjay suffers
the audacity of
new dawn celebrations
biting into virginal doughnuts
and chattering hyms
to yet another day?
copyright 2008
Jan 15 2008
Unloved books
line the wall.
Their smell calls
out to me.
Hand reaches
wants to touch.
I breathe in
yellow pages.
History.
Feel the love
of past reads.
And whisper
I’ll love you.
You are home.
copyright 2007
Oct 08 2007
A writer without interest or sympathy for the foibles of his fellow man is not conceivable as a writer.
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