In pulling my shrinking underwear on
I noticed again that my feet were gone
All I could see was disgusting flab
So I bellowed this out like Captain Ahab
"**** thee whale!"

Sometimes it seems to me
that the world walks
with a big limp of hypocrisy

The powerful image of a hungry child
crushes my self-pitying thoughts
and I feel sad for the poor waif
that can't get enough to eat
and disappointment in the fool
that forgets his good fortune

If you go to a room
With an idle clock
Close the door
And engage the lock

There you live
For 20 years
And that clock
Moves not it’s gears

Will you age?
Will you wither?
I know its nuts
But I’m not sure either

No one knows better
how hard it is
to stop and smell the roses
than one whose hair is on fire

He no longer sits in the park
until after dark
looking for blue birds
perched on a lily white shoulder
For the hope of the chance
at such surreal romance
Fell broken
as the wind in the park grew colder

Let no more tears
Push against this leaky wall
For one more drop
will surely make it fall
Then, maybe at least
I'll be rid of the beast
But, the pain I want vanquished
will be missed most of all

There are times
when the atrocities
committed on the the battlefield
of my own mind
are the equal of anything
that happens in the real world
My sane and logical thinking
tells me that this is most certainly not true
But, the insane and emotional part of me
tells me that it is

Imagine the frustration
of one's soul as it observes
the mind and the body
thinking and acting in ways
so contrary to it's being

Set me afloat
on a slow moving river
Aboard an old raft
with Pop's rocking chair
I'd puff on my pipe
and rock on the water
waving goodbye
to the world's phantom cares

I did not know
where I was heading
for most of the night
with a drink in each hand

Until I woke
early the next morning
face down on the beach
one eye in the sand

How fitting the dog
ignores the one who mocks him
How telling
that it amuses me so

No wind blows harder
than from those
who think they know everything

There are those
who have been blessed
with a high education
Schooled in the arts
of the finest prose

Perhaps wisdom's not found
in a storehouse of knowledge
But begins with awareness
of what one does not know

Go to sleep my friend
Your day's at an end
No use in re-living it
again and again

Gather up all your troubles
and pack them away
Leave them high on a shelf
for some other day

Surely, there’s a better way
than fearing death
yet not fond of living
They wished they knew enough to say
whose metered breath
may speak of giving
life to those
who are all but dead
eulogies written
and all but said

Once on their knees they began to pray
“Surely God, someone knows the way”

From a sea of hate
He rises
Creating enemies
on either shore
Turning man
against his brother
until their country
was no more

If Yesterday
be scarred by bad memories
and Tomorrow
possessed by dark dreams
They both have the power and influence
to make Today
come apart at the seams

Sometimes we may have thoughts
about ourselves and others
that lurk in the dark shadows of human frailty
and lose sight of
what makes us so complex
and uniquely divine

Let's take a drive
up to the mountains
where no one can find us
at least for the day

Rest in the arms
of slumbering giants
'til a breeze
from the trees
softly asks us to stay

These special deliveries
Heaven sends to the earth
Each silently waits
until that moment of birth
When it finally arrives
New lungs fill with air
to let everyone know
what to handle with care

Today is the day
that I will be less a human doing
and more a human being
If not but for one moment
I will know how
to be something other than
a mule pulling a plow

And then the sun rises......

I have come to the conclusion
that it is both unfair and unreasonable
to expect any one person
to be happy all of the time
and also to judge that discontent
as some sort of personal failure
How could it possibly be that simple?
May any sustained absence of one's happiness
lead to an enduring appreciation of it's return

I see a little boat
in a harbor
waiting to set sail
for the sea
It floats as prisoner
tied to the docks
waiting for it's chance to be free

But I have no view
of a harbor
and I do not live
by the sea
Yet, I'm haunted by visions
of this sad little boat
I sense it has a message for me

Does it want us
to sail off together
and throw caution to the wind for the day?
Is it enough of a boat
to keep us a float
or will we sink to the bottom of the bay?

Wind blows
through the carcass
of an old ship run ashore
It beckons her ghosts
to board once more
She's sad
and she's lonely
in a harbor of sand
and her decks need the company
of those old scurvy hands

All the air
blown between my ears
and all that's lost
from those crazy years
In the one
and out the other
Maybe it's better
that I didn't bother
to notice what was passing through

As I pour myself
another drink
I tell myself
not to think
of moving thoughts
from pen to paper
then suffer from
a reckless rapier

In a field
Of senoritas
Dancing in the sun
I saw their smiles
Among the sunflowers
Before their dance was done

Breath was what mattered
all the days since his birth
Now dressed in fine pine
and a suit of his worth
Slowly descending
into the soil's firth
For death be it only
what lies in the earth

It was so uneventful
lowered into the ground
and with nothing to show
for his labors

All he wanted
was a fancy white box
so he could impress
his new neighbors

I can picture myself
in the painting "The Hay Wain"
Standing next to the wagon
in the Stour's riverbed
To go back in time
for a moment's simplicity
may almost be worth
a place with the dead

I am but a teaspoon of water
in a large and omnipotent sea
along for the ride
in it's powerful tide
despite objections from me

Again
he dreamt of Anna
at the back of a line
in the wind and the cold
In her hand
A bandana
begging for food
that could not be sold

They hid in the woods
by a roadway
all huddled together
on that cold winter's day
Nothing but silence
wedged between them
until they came
to chase them away

There's been nothing
but years of searching
ever since that awful day
and no matter
how often he asks her
his beloved sister
has nothing to say

Lay your head
upon the grass
'neath the wispy willows

Close your eyes
sleep with the peace
that dwells in Nature's pillows

Ease your mind
into the silence
Ride a horse
up to the Highlands

Amidst the clouds
of sweet serenity

Very hard not to notice
this man in the street
He wears these nice threads
and fancy shoes on his feet

"And for today only
new lamps for old"
To hear him tell it
a deal worth more than gold

"I'm trading light for darkness
Sight for your blindness
Love for indifference
and I'll throw in a some kindness"

He is as convincing
as any soul one can meet
But today no one is buying
from this miserable cheat

Free my hand
Bound to this whip
Of my father's making
And if you must
Lop off the hand
To stop what it's been taking

Humor me God
as I err against you
myself
and all those around me
Humor me please
for I need the laugh

this mask I must wear
it leaves me with a cold sense
of unbelonging
it makes me a stranger
among many other masked strangers
and though I am but a few miles away
I feel far from home

I saw a band of pixies
Among the mushrooms
In my yard
It may have been the drinking
Or I had been working
Much too hard

But as the sun was setting
On the window ledge
That night
I thought I may have seen it all
Until they began
To fight

They were all so very angry
And I thought this might
Be fun
Until things got too out of hand
And a pixie
Pulled a gun

I rapped upon my window hard
And yelled
‘There’ll be none of that!’
Then the gun quickly disappeared
Beneath his
Little hat

Now those little imps best beware
Until I
Settle down
Into my new position
As the sheriff
Of Pixie Town

Every moment has it's building
Every hour has it's time
Every day has it's passing
Every past the simple crime
of suffering the regrets
of what might have been
and the irony of worry
of what could happen
and when

... and hidden from the world
     where most cannot see
     a boiling cauldron of madness
     the trouble that is me

      when the dark times come
       I seethe at light's absence
       then rage at God
       for his apparent indifference....

I dreamt of a desert
Where I sat with a sage
His comments were brief
On the mellowing of age
“From the ache of all yearning
To the wisdom of learning
One must guard passion
From excess and rage”

There are times
I don't dance
I but hobble
to the words of old songs
that seem all out of tune
It's when I could ban
the pen from my hand
Stand alone in the darkness
and just howl at the moon

When I stand weak
In the judgement of others
Trembling at the verdict
of my shaky self-worth
May I think of the love
Of my very sweet mother
Who thought nothing more dear
Than the day of my birth

I yearn for that moment
the serenity I’m seeking
Found in a landscape
Not noticed before

Spellbound by it’s beauty
and no words for the speaking
The peace so completes me
I may hunger no more

Desperate to get
what he thought
the world owed him
He became a victim
of his own thoughtless crime
Dying in a field
betrayed by his father
who wasn't around
to help keep him in line
He thought of the words
someone had told him
"Don't be defined by
who left you behind"

Running and jumping
As if on the moon
Light as a pixie hop
Aboard a mushroom
They’re veiled in the presence
of make-believe things
No thoughts of the future
And the worry it brings
How I so envy
The magic to be
bound by the charm
Of young naivety

I have many faults
and logged many a sin
If I had to explain it
I wouldn't know where to begin
But, as I look at the world
I'm beginning to see
Hell may be too crowded
for the likes of me

"Gather unto me
all that is mine"
They scream from the alleyways
and empty bottles of wine

There was this dream
of the trouble he would see
in death
as he had seen in life

But the sight of his ghost
disturbed him the most
as it hacked
at its chains
with a knife