my soul washed upon a beach
after many years at sea
it is bleached and hollow
worn too smooth
like shells that batter each other
along the shoreline
and in the early hours
when the Sun provides enough light
you find me
and place me in your bag
with stones and lost treasures
that you would later admire
and add to your display
or simply toss aside

I stumbled upon a ruby in the darkness
it held the secrets of a sad November day
from all directions
the splinters came
and took the defyer
the one who tried to save us
from the powers that would be
this ruby spoke of the players,
the slayers
the hiding naysayers
the complex
the complexities
the maggots that live
by war
and more
I tried to tell you
but even I
who lived on the edge
of exposing the lie
could not speak before the splinters arrived
and I sleep with the others
our secret has died

dedicated to the memory of'
Dorothy Kilgallen

and hence

from the deep stillness of night
the mountain is awash in light
seductive and golden
as if born of a million candles
the quiet is not disturbed

here
they descend upon the land
their presence awakens and ignites the soil
of this charred rock
a hum pulses through every leaf and petal
every eye of every creature is affixed
unafraid and knowing
their blood surging with life

the children of the stars return
our father's fathers
come to save us

they are only flashes
yet they hold the power to bring me to tears
or laughter
I see faces in them
moments that are burned in my soul
fifty four years ago
looking for something to do on a hot July afternoon
I would peak out the window to make sure
Mrs. Mabolis (she was a portly gal) was on her porch
drinkin' her tea
prop the front door open  
go to the edge of the kitchen
and run full speed down the hallway
out the front door
across the porch
hitting the top of the stairs
and launching myself out far enough
to clear the 10 steps
land on the concrete sidewalk
perform a fake roll to make it look
more death defying than it actually was
and look up to see Mrs. Mabolis
grab her chest in terror
poor Mrs. Mabolis
the day I nearly got run over by a 55' Chevy
playing 'Hide & Seek'
likely took 10 years off her time on this planet
I'm sorry Mrs. Mabolis, I truly am
but you were my go to!

fell out of a tree once
truly should have killed me
but opened a **** on my forehead
that changed the front of my bright white t-shirt
to candy apple red
snuck up on Mom through the back porch door
waited for her to turn around and see me
while she was frying chicken
when she finally did
the fried chicken took flight from the frying pan
to the dining room
sorry Mom!
luckily, Mrs. Mabolis wasn't on the porch for that one

as the shadows speak to one another
in whispers above my traveling thoughts
what to make of this seeker of deeper dreams

I surprise them when I hear their voices
through the lucid silence and
the bending seams

like a surgeon's surprise
when a patient's eyes
flash open from deepest slumber
they are drawn to me
in my dream scape sea
and 333 is my number

though I be the one in search of answers
there are questions within you I raise
for the King of lost souls
and graveyard dancers
can provide you a glimpse
of your living days

hush now hush now
don't you speak
Sammy's gonna' make sure
it don't leak
quiet now quiet now
don't you chat
snap your pretty neck
you ***** little rat
go to sleep go to sleep
what's your line
shoulda' made copies
for the news at nine
hit the road hit the road
my sweet little rose
no one ever listens
to dancers and **'s
knock em' dead knock em' dead
one two three
leave it all to Lyndon, Edgar and me

if you delve deep into the fray
where the truly true musicians play
keeping their words and sighs intact
their hearts and tears and words impact
the tiny masses who search them out
to warm their souls and if you doubt
the world around you doesn't hear
your broken dreams
your quiet fear
look beyond the pompous trite
the subtle muddle that holds no light
there is a world though buried deep
once heard enfolds you while you sleep
close your eyes we will walk the moon
your heart and mine will sing in tune

dedicated to Angus & Julia Stone

I visited my home for a few days
smelled the ocean as I thought of the time
we decided to drive to the beach and lay there
in each other's company for a few hours
I got wind burn and we drove back in a storm
leaning forward, my back on fire
we laughed because we were happy
to be with each other
I loved You
you know
as crazy as it was
I didn't know where we stood
we didn't talk about the possibilities
of you and I beyond this day
you were spoken for
this I knew from the start
and I waited for you to tell me different
but it never came
even though I saw the burn
in your eyes
we would get high together
and sing as we sat around the candles
on your living room floor
though we kissed like vampires after blood
and held each other until the Sun arose
we never made love
perhaps we both knew that
we could never turn back if we did
this was what I wished for

I am back to the place where I live
and must return to my life such as it is
put the memories of you away
until I am home again
I loved You
you know

your voice reaches me
how it soothes my spent mind
caresses and convinces me
we are joined for all time

we own the ocean's distance
it is you that I can see
are you only in my thoughts
an elusive fantasy?

yet here on this shoreline
we absorb, we feel
this island of dreams
where our love becomes real

daybreak approaches
the Sun beckons me
as your voice like a ghost
washes over the Sea

but I shall return
in the stillness of night
to rekindle our dream
to recapture our light

I leave through my mind's eye
I see you in the distance
along the shoreline
on these islands that you described
in our dreams
where do our thoughts meet
when will our souls touch
I see you here
night after night
before the intrusion of waking life
but you are always walking away
towards a blur
the end of my dream
then you turn for just a moment
and cover your eyes from the Sun
I am pulled away
my calls taken by the Sea

it settles in like powder after an eruption
a radical beginning
ending in quiet ashen snow
reducing all color of landscape
to a blurry black and white snapshot
all plants, waterways and wind of change
to wretched silence
the coming of age
death shows itself in our faces
and our relevancy is reduced to nostalgia
biding time
hanging on to thoughts of young days and old ideas
pretending we have fended off
the coming of the gray

shadows buckle
from the weight of the rising Sun
and the chirping birds and grasshoppers
provide no deference to the bodies
that are strewn across Saunders Field
dew glistens and blood oozes
from the wounds
as the souls look helplessly about
not knowing which direction to walk
the heat grows rapidly towards noon
and soon no-one would come
this day or the next
ashes to ashes
dust to dust
the Moon be my witness
as here I sleep

Freewill

Rush

There are those who think that life
Has nothing left to chance
A host of holy horrors
To direct our aimless dance

A planet of playthings
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive
The stars aren't aligned
Or the gods are malign
Blame is better to give than receive

You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice

You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can ****
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose free will

There are those who think that
They've been dealt a losing hand
The cards were stacked against them
They weren't born in Lotus-Land

All preordained
A prisoner in chains
A victim of venomous fate
Kicked in the face
You can't pray for a place
In heaven's unearthly estate

You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice

You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can ****
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose free will

Each of us
A cell of awareness
Imperfect and incomplete
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt
That's far too fleet

You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice

You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can ****
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose free will

Songwriters: GEDDY LEE, ALEX LIFESON, NEIL PEART

I never hear them when they speak
only hours later
in the painfully lit basement of my home
with earphones and patience
do their words reach me
such was the case last October
I was driving through Wilderness, Virginia
for the first time and happened to pass
Saunders Field and caught sight of the plaque
that stood at the bottom of the hill
and a trail that led into the woods
where the fierce skirmishes took place
it was a bit chilly and windy
and the road nearby was busy with passing cars
not an ideal place for an EVP session
but I felt compelled to try
and walked the edge of the woods
then a short portion of the trail
I asked many questions directly to anyone
who may be listening
'How many souls perished here?'
'Are you one of those souls?'
'Did you suffer?'
'Why do you stay or visit this place?'
as usual, I heard no voices during the 18 minutes
of questioning
however, the presence was undeniable
I was not alone here
this I knew
on the way back down the hill to leave
I reached out one final time;
'I have about 20 seconds left, so if you'd like
to say something, please say it now'
again I heard nothing, turned the recorder off
and departed

it was several days before I could return home
and review my recording
but my curiosity as always
grew stronger the longer I had to wait
I was disappointed as I began to listen
nothing heard as each minute passed
only the whisper of wind and cars
until I came to my final question in those last moments...
'I have about 20 seconds left, so if you'd like
to say something, please say it now.'

'Leave me under the ground........human'

it will be some time
when I leave this mortal coil behind
before they discover the sack of bones
and translucent skin
a putrid puddle of mixed blood and body decay
and this is how I will be remembered
after 65, 70...maybe 75 years of absorbing
vast amounts of sideways smiles, false nods
and scripted ******* that our daily routines
have become
it will be some time
because I will choose to die alone
so those formalities are not required on a daily basis
those lies will not come automatic
on the rare occasions when I must
endure another of my own species
I am not built for small talk, chit chat
or breeze shooting
I am a tv with a few bad pixels
a record that skips
an oldie that you never quite knew the words to
I must have been born a second later than the universe had planned
because as normal as I once believed I was
something is off
just ask any other bot that has spent more than a week with me
it will be some time
because I think I may have gotten a larger dose of DNA
that ET is adding to our OJ
perhaps a test to see what would happen if they jumped the gun a bit
say 200 years
the neighbor called it in when she saw I hadn't left for work in a few weeks
or maybe a few months
gonna be hell cleaning these wooden floors

bitter cold morning
I start the car and await the heat
thoughts of you warm my heart
as the heater warms my feet
we refused to share our lives
beyond those indelible nights we dined
wasting not a precious moment as
our young hearts became entwined
in something we did not recognize
I cannot truly say
why the fire burned so quickly
why the embers weren’t enough
to make us want to stay
…and so we fell away
and live now in each memory’s corner
for these moments to replay

darkness becomes me
it's silence and lack of clarity
it's empathy from whispered voices
when the dead come to visit
I sleep only in small doses
my own screams awaken me to moving shadows
and the chill of their presence
dazed knowledge of being touched
which I dismiss when the Sun arrives
yet the darkness becomes me
in a sordid kind of way
I muddle through the vacant day
smiling when I want to plea
for anyone to look and see
that I await the coming night
with urgency to dim the light
like an actor's role he cannot put down
or the painted smile of a dying clown
there is nothing more odd
yet meant to be
a fixture in this darkness
that so becomes me

I don't know why I doubted you
that Washington set in motion Pearl Harbor
before it blew
or that LBJ had Kennedy killed
and that nothing  happened at the Gulf of Tonkin
you were there too
on a boat on the Hudson
with a bird's eye view
when the Twin Towers fell
in on itself
not one, not two
but the first 3 to ever do so
ain't that a clue
Eisenhower warned us
Kennedy too
before they took off his head
for us all to see
that peace on Earth
was not meant to be
that war is the game that must endure
yet we are the cream
we are the pure
tell me tell me
tell me more
what does the future have in store
is there a man who can rid us of rampant sin
from the bowels of our nation
destroy evil from within?
there is such a man
there are many in fact
but the journey is treacherous
the obstacles great
and no man has managed to make it his fate
for evil has hold of all that we see
all that we touch is poisoned by thee
the churches, the judges, the men in black suits
have given their souls
abandoned their roots
what we saw on the horizon just moments away
died a nation's hope that November day
so why do you question me year after year?
because the weapon of evil
is to doubt what we fear

Quiet whispers from the awaiting sinners
as Johnny receives his penance
4 Hail Marys and 2 Our Fathers
are delivered by Father Edwards
in the customary harsh manor
to Johnny Watson
'he's been in there a long time!
musta' got caught peekin' on his sister takin' a shower!'
giggles echoed off the walls of Saint Ignatius and for a second
I thought I saw Jesus himself slightly raise his head and frown in displeasure
'Shhhhush!' came the immediate response from the pews behind us
filled with the loyal disciples who commit every Sunday morning and more
to God and his church

I was no altar boy
nor did I want to be
but the Catholic church was my guiding light you might say
it was the line between me and those mortal sins
the line that punched God should you cross
but when they wouldn't come to see my mother when she had a stroke…
(they said they didn't do that anymore)
after giving 10% of her hard earned dollars for years and years,
that line began to fade
they took her seed but returned no fruit
they fed her sermons, but disappeared in her darkest hours
left her without a line to her God
without a sinless hand to hold as she was about to journey
to her awaiting Heaven

this gave me grave doubts about the church
made me question it's motives, it's meaning
it's value

then one day I discovered that priests were molesting  young children in droves
the Cardinal used the Catholic church's power
to move them from parish to parish  
like unwanted guests
instead of sending them to prison
the treachery
innocent children ***** and scarred forever
in the very house of God
by those in whom they placed their trust

when the sacred **** finally hit the fan
the Cardinal was called to Rome by the Pope
this was his punishment

I believe in God
I seek his guidance not through the church
and I fear for the children who's line has disappeared

I grapple with the everyday
nothing smooth
a sumo wrestler on ice skates
a one armed juggler
a 4 eyed ******
the muck and slime
that passes for normal
has overtaken my well
climbed my wall
I'm unfit to fit
too unscrewed to view
through a filtered lens
don't smile at me when you pass
but stop and ask what the **** is wrong with you
wake me up
and maybe I'll speak
maybe I'll peek around the corner this time
to see how high the **** has gotten
to see my childish dreams forgotten
and buried in the lies
that I've become

as the last of the thorns are removed from my hand
and the blood congeals like pudding on a stove
and the heart slows to a methodical beat
of one resigned to the approaching day
the sound of still darkness is deafening
stars stare in mock silence
taunting me as they defer to the moon
'her moon' as she called it
how she grieved over the death of its secrets
more so than the coming death of our own
beautiful
secret
which breathed in the magic of the darkness
and found us together
always
in each other's light
as the Sun approached

I drop these roses here
you would always say it was such a waste
'flowers for my love'
but your eyes would not lie

I remember how November began
too many late shifts for this old man
pulling up and over Pine Grove Mountain
in the early morning hours

mist and a frightening silence along the roads
were following me
I shivered half cold and half fear as I reached to add some heat  
and when I looked back
he was standing in my lane
beast of a buck
white as snow
majestic
broad shoulders to accommodate his massive rack
staring me down
head raised proudly in the second before I swerved
the second that cost me my life
as I was held transfixed in his beauty

I rose above the trees and viewed my crumpled jeep
on its head
tires still spinning
the beast still eyeballing me as I slid into the ether

It is December now
and I watch as my kids open their gifts for the first time without me
they are older and their hearts will heal before the coming of Spring

How does one learn not to hate
after facebook shows me a group of teenage thugs
savagely pull an old man from his car
and proceed to kick and sucker punch him
under the guise of who he voted for
if that were the reason
then why did they pick up everything that he
dropped on the ground and place it in their pockets?
How can someone be classified as a human being
that commits such an inhumane act upon a fellow human
I contemplate what I would do if I were there
to witness this cowardly attack
I could not stand by and watch as it appears
bystanders did
My stomach is in knots
my heart is thumping like a train
in my contempt for these cowards
these pathetic individuals who swarm like wolves
not in the name of survival
but in the name of hate
when I think our species might be progressing
I see such disgusting behavior and feel years of progress
were only a mirage

there are no dreams here
they are but fragments of thought
dismissed and abandoned to the wilderness
of our imaginations
to intersect or collide
perhaps hundreds or thousands at a time
to create some kind of patchwork mosaic of
tossed millisecond ideas and flashes of imagery
that have nowhere to go
these are not dreams
a vast wasteland of connected disconnected energy
of the mind

last night we walked together
and discovered our shared love of art
and ghosts
while the world slept
while I slept
I later met you in a book store
where we paged through Vangogh prints
and discussed the peculiarities of  'The Smoking Skull'
I awoke to a beautiful Sun and for a few joyous seconds…thought to
call you

there are no dreams here

when the last line is written
when the last rhyme is pulled from the bowels of that…
place
when the brain burn and the message is to my liking for now
i will return to the folded arms comfort of night
pick out a star and float to it
sleep

unlike the wicked warmth of tequila
or *******'s almost passive attempts to own me
the word is my true addiction
the insidious hold it has
drawing me in
calling to me every waking moment
i fear the whispers will not end in death
and i shall face an eternity living the nightmare
of an incomplete batch of words
that hold the key to my missing life

the last lover leaves
before dawn
before the necessity of conversation
stale coffee reheated
brings the numbing thought that this was your last chance
old man
there's nothing left
no slivers of heart to give away
no whispers in the dark that clever lovers say
you can no longer dance with brittle bones
your game has left you
and they were all games
were they not?
until the last sliver

now walk the shoreline as you always do
when they leave
and ponder the idea of love

it is truly sobering
what life has to offer
once one begins to listen
begins to search
begins to accept
what our senses are telling us
it is there for us to explore
and oh
how I have explored these last few years

when the doubts have subsided
we can enter this illuminating world
we can touch the other side
hear the voices of the past that are not chained by time
observe those that observe us from afar

this is the life I have come to know
phenomenon within my grasp
the unbridled certainty
the crystalline clarity
the cleansing freedom that comes with the knowledge
that we are not alone

I am numb with morphine
and the shadows are moving in from the edges
like ghosts awaiting my final slumber
but the mind
in its final stages
in its final pulse of energy
begs to go back
to the night I paused
when you pleaded for clarity
where our lives were headed
did I love you
and I refused to crumble under your tears

I lost you somewhere between blind cowardice
and my detached heart
all the while searching for a reason
not to love you as I did

the thought of you could come at any moment
and stayed with me as clearly as
this final vision I hold now
what a fool I was
what a pitiful fool

being of sound mind and body
I must write of the days when I was slightly ******
when I would disappear into the beautiful abyss
with headphones
'Dark Side of the Moon'
or 'I Robot' taking me on journeys
only I could take
my room the isolation tank
from 'Altered States'
my mind the well that echoed within
the sitar vibrations of an unspoken thought
my dreams the night before realized in a wave
of painted sound
and when the consciousness of awake
and the boundless landscape of sleep
fused with the lost chord
one was as close as one could be to God
on this plane

she moves too slow
while I'm awake
yet renders mercy
for hearts that ache
she waits in patient,
silent hope
providing light
on this slippery *****

she has no thoughts
of giving in
slows your breath
when air gets thin

and as you await
the final tide
she'll grant you a glimpse
of the other side

there is no healer
I give more faith
no more a reason
this soul can rhyme
for night and day
for every season
I cherish this gift
of time

I had hoped
as I had many times before
that it would not come
but the night would eventually depart
like the thousand friends I believed I had
vanishing like the shine of new paint over the course of time
sleep is better spent in daylight as the machine rolls mercilessly
over the depleting consciousness of those lingering desperate souls
and when the machine rests
I awaken
to roam the silent scenes and landscapes of the unbound thought
the minds well
this holy realm of darkness

the days seem shorter
as I draw near the end of those scheduled for me
these 9 to 5's
few surprises await as the routine becomes routine
fewer goodbyes
fewer laughs
fewer cries
and fewer smiles
funny how you notice what the children do not
that they are drifting into their lives
further from yours
but this is the pattern
the destiny of the aging soul

to bed early
comedies aren't as funny
baseball seems less relevant
the aches are more and the heart is growing cold
wrapped in the pain of indifference
I will miss the sound of that alarm
and the need to move
but I shall always have the Sun
and the Sea
to harvest a few words now and again

grey dusk
and blue tomorrow
fade to black
then back to sorrow
take my heart
but never borrow
this love is all but spent

they roll in like storms
upon a quiet shore…
these memories
unforgiving in their clarity
yet i protect them
nurture them
your twisted, unwavering distrust
enveloped me in it's pain
and fed your misguided cruelty
i lived to enable you
for a glimpse of love
would appear from the shadows
in those rare, quiet nights
when you allowed yourself to love me
the few moments i remember
being alive

Home bound after work
near 12:30 am
just a few minutes from checking my email
then retiring
as us old folks like to call it

from the North side of route 7
at a slight angle
there and gone in half a second
was the biggest meteor I've ever seen
if that's what it was
so big that I slowed and listened for a boom
but nothing came
I have no idea how far it went before touching down
but this isn't about the meteor
this is about the fact that when I got home
and thought about who I would tell...
there was no one that came to mind
I've seen so much crazy **** in my life
that the stories have grown old
even the new ones
I breathed life into a dead woman one morning
then faced the fact that I couldn't save another
hit by a truck on my way home
just after midnight

on the day before the great Russian meteor
I saw 2 objects in the sky on fire
and not moving...
in broad daylight
I've been touched and spoken to
by spirits or ghosts or phantoms
take your pick
I saw 3000 people sacrificed in the name of what?
and as a child I witnessed a president murdered by those supposed to follow him
I've grown to see the young know nothing of that last President who actually had a vision and a spine

and when I quietly leave this life
there will be little to note...
a brief glance
of my obituary
by a few sad souls

I often think of a quote I heard as a young man
by a comedian; George Gobel
who was on the 'Tonight Show'
Dean Martin and Bob Hope were also on that show
and unknown to George, Dean was flipping his cigarette ashes
in George's drink as he was telling his humorous stories
this caused the laughs to come out of sequence...and finally a confused George said; 'Did you ever feel like the world was a tuxedo and you were a pair of brown shoes?'

they beckon me
they whisper as I sleep
touch my shoulder
with unseen fingers
sending waves of dead static through my soul
the after
the in-between
the remaining energy
reaching for some connection
to their mortal coil
they find solace in my belief
a ground for their whispering pulse
the remnants of a soul once lived
the static that refuses to leave
completely

it is early morning at the beach
1:12 am to be exact
everyone else has gone beddy bye
and I can't sleep yet
because this is my time
where I live and breathe and think
without others doing the same and talking about it
all I can see through the sliding glass balcony door
is a liberty gas station across the street playing elevator
music at the pumps and selling insurance
that saves you 415 dollars a year
it's too cloudy to look for UFO's and the sherbert has all been eaten
so I decided to write something
I've reminded everyone what a nut case I am
hearing spirits and ripping politicians a new one
were pretty much my topics of conversation
I will say this...my sister's tacos were amazing
they over shop every year but **** they can cook

it's almost 1:30 and they will be rattling the breakfast dishes by 8
so I better get my crotchety old *** in bed
******* better get here early in the morning to fix
the **** washing machine
I only brought 3 pair of underwear

now
let me get started on this life changing poem
it is early morning at the beach...

a very thin veil
divides the living and the dead
a very tight thread

this I discovered in the depths of night
when she turned out the light
to pit fear against will

if you wither from thee
you will hear not her plea
in the softest of voice
'I hear you '

a whisper of a whisper
within the whisper of sighs
believer I am as I feel her eyes
upon me

light was returned
my nerve tested and worn
soul beautifully stirred
this night I was born

as the veil was lifted

the memories
at least those pre - incept date
are presented in shuffle mode
designed to initiate during down time
when heart rate slows
less random and more vivid than human
Roy had no idea
until now
that he could very well be dying
he seemed to be thinking outside the realm
of typical replicant query

why were his dreams ending before completion
his ravenous appetite diminishing
his fixation with the moon now fading

death comes quickly to the replicant
no long suffering illness
many humans must face
the clock stops ticking
and the implants die first
leaving the final few moments
all his, all Roy

were his tears
like his memories
lost in rain
perhaps his most human trait
is revealed in his final moments
the acceptance of death
amid the realization he had lived

I can see it all so clear
as the wind from the oncoming storm
ravages the trees on the Northern side of the mountain
as if trying to uproot them

I gaze from above on Bear's Den
as Connor Brooks tries to finish the mowing
on his 40 acres and Molly's cries for him
to get inside before dinner gets cold
echo upwards in waves
beautiful waves

The Village Market
serves the last few customers
before closing up for the evening
Birdman, Mike and Fuzzy,
all friends since high school
are stopping at the Horseshoe Curve
for a glass or three
while discussing their shared memories

and of-course
Sarah...scurrying to get the clothes off the line
before the downpour
unaware her every sensual move is being watched
by the unlucky poet
who didn't quite grasp the moment
and reap the harvest
that lay there awaiting his attention
so many years have passed


timing never was something that seemed to fall my way
always seemed to be a day behind
realizing what I should have done
the day before
most things you get over
most missed chances eventually dissolve into the blur of life
like a bruise

Sarah never dissolved
never blurred

she hesitates for a moment after picking up the basket of clothes
as if she heard a far off voice call her name

it's just the wind

the air hit my face like a slap to a helpless child
cold and unrelenting
like every morning as I leave before the Sun is up
I wanted to say something before starting the long drive
I turned but could think of nothing
perhaps there was nothing to say
perhaps it no longer mattered

eighteen inches fell last night
a Winter Wonderland here in the mountains
I may see the children before they sleep tonight
or I may miss them as I often do
traffic and that silent road have numbed me

snow has begun falling again
thick and oddly quiet
like the ravings of a mad man on tv
with the volume turned down
funny how wonderfully creative the mind becomes
moments before sanity escapes

just as I had nothing to say
when I began this typical Tuesday
I again have no rhyme
no verse
no connection to reality
as I flatten the pedal
and disappear into the white

frame by frame i sit and view
the story unfold like a gentle sigh
or a savage scream
spellbound in this intoxicating isolation
carried from my mundane truth
i fuse with the flickers and sounds
that emanate from this giant looking glass
igniting emotions long departed from this life
what a wondrous thing it is
to be moved by lights and words
woven in a veil of music
taken away for just a brief time
to live another's story
as the credits roll
as the lights fade in
and the picture fades out
i turn my collar
head into the cold night
to play the scene from which i escape
every now and again

the wind that howls in the deepest night
is a comforting sound
the dog that moans at the earliest light
is a soulmate found
I abhor the thought of wistful bliss
of nervous laughter unprovoked
I slip into my warm abyss
this sea of pain on which I choke
I wade in pools of sought despair
while others seek their mothers
I dance on floors of rotted wood
and sing to ghosts of lovers
I find it my salvation
to document this pain
to analyze the demons
and revel in the rain
perhaps one day I'll leave this place
and walk into the Sun
to face the light of happiness
content my deed is done

I am prey to the unyielding Sun
here in this open field
void of shade
holding precious pieces
untouched for 140 years
200 acres of Virginia farmland beneath my feet
where bullets flew
where strong men screamed
and the soil looked as if it had rained blood
death can come quickly or painfully slow

A soldier rips the Eagle breastplate from his chest
and throws it to the ground where I am standing
and here in the sweltering heat
of a calm June afternoon
I pull it from its resting place
no longer shining
140 years removed
from the failing heart
beneath it

each night they come
tapping on the wall
voices in the hall
laying their hands on my shoulder

is it touching life that they need
will they follow me til' death
will they covet my last breath
growing weak as I grow older

what awaits my simple soul
will they welcome me with tears
will I wander lost for years
in a realm where hearts are colder

what light you let me see
I know you'll wait for me
I set my spirit free
to the whispers in the dark

Solemn faces hold their wrath
forewarned the day would come
silent fell their thoughts of fear
no match for hearts turned numb
they walk together this final day
as one a stoic mass
no smiles, no hope, no words to say
tears lip blades of grass
in the hills they settle
the hour draws near
time to tell children they are loved
a faint breeze is blowing
the Sun shining clear
birds swoop and chatter above
there are moments of reflection
before it is done
eyes towards the heavens do peer
a thud in the distance
a cloud chokes the Sun
it is only the silence they hear
hands are joined and heads are hung
to pray for their rebirth
spirits seek the light of God
in their final day on earth

I have been near enough to death
to know it well
its unwavering dispassion
its unflinching reality

as I breathe into her
and hear the sound of empty lungs
it has ripped all the curtains I had sewn
all the false smiles and pat answers
a lifetime of rehearsed dialogue and robotic gestures

I was now naked before myself
and the lies that became me
now face me
and dissolve

float like a butterfly
sting like a bee
may you rest in peace
Muhammad Ali

I will enter this dream
as I enter a room of ghosts
with curiosity overriding my fear
with less time to protect
the darkness becomes my haven
the voices I cannot see
are now my friends
and the other side
opens to me a veil of unseen light
do not fear the death of flesh and bone and blood
but rather embrace the mind, soul and heart
that guides you even as you breathe
it will live forever
and life as we know it is only the beginning
of its ultimate beauty