The disembodied radio host asked:
If you could live a past experience,
What would you choose?
I searched my far and recent memories.
What would it be?
Some thought ensued...
Then some more.
A week's gone by. Here's why.
Seven days ago...
I'd like, I thought, to bumper-jump
In four inch snow.
Then six days ago...
The tender, innocent, inviting experience
Of my most amazing, surprising and tantalizing
First Kiss.
Then five days ago...
My university years. They happened once.
Then four days ago...
Achieving a pleasing place with my avocation.
Then three days ago...
The first born, second born, third born. Daddyhood.
Then two days ago...
My happy and contented first day of retirement.
One day ago...
A Guiness and a shot of Jameson. Grandahood.
And today?
What would I like to re-experience...
Many more days
Like today.

In my Honalee,
I abandoned the wish
For time to rocket by.
The burning suns didn't sink
Fast enough behind pirate's sails.
Where desire is the moon phasing
Like tidal currents to the watershed.
Youth and time inextricably race slowly
With each passing celebration,
Until the full-feathered fly like dragons,
And our present fills the sky, and me,
Keeping look out.

In my songs
I learned
Of love and peace and harmony.
Heard the injustices of humanity,
The harms incurred,
The hurts endured,
The tranquility of let it be.

Despite my flights,
I fed you,
Feathered the nest,
Did all the rest
To feed all your dreams.

Now weeks fly,
Your babies will cry.

Stay still thwarted worm.
This beak, though worn,
Is not yet ready for you.
The day will come,
The hour creep up,
The minute of expiration,
But it's that second one dreads,
That moment.

I don't like that picture framed,
Looking from my shelf;
You're no longer like that,
No longer you're yourself.
I don't like your smiling eyes,
I don't like your hair,
I don't like the way you look,
I don't like you there.
I had plenty,
I was twenty,
A life ahead of me;
I don't like your picture there,
Looking down on me.

I'll place a new shot on the shelf,
A recent picture of one's self,
Mirroring pangs of time,
The heartaches that are mine.
A picture of an aged-worn man,
A head that droops,
Shoulders stooped,
A face laced with worry lines,
A wry smile covering crimes;
A still life and a pantomime.
I don't like that picture there,
When I was in my prime.

I thought the world would go out with chaos
and zombies, at least the walking dead,
it would be like wow.

But alas it wasn't meant to be,
it went out with silence. Well near enough.
The day before I was being my usual accidental
self, I looked right, the way the traffic was coming!

Yes I didn't look left, who knew some pensioner
wouldn't look at the road in forgotten pools
that shimmered sight on there eyes.

Look listen, look again my mother used to say..
Now as I traverse the air, I feel myself broken.
But in a flight almost unending, till I land, limply.

I thought the world would go out with chaos
and zombies, at least the walking dead would
be like wow...

But we take many steps, we walk so many in life,
then we die. but some imagine there life as continual
that they'll have footprints that will last.

As I lie here feeding the pavement my life,
every step is a chosen one. We must not waste them,
for it takes only one step to become static.

I see people rushing over to my fastening breath,
how would have thought that out of the millions
of steps I had taken this would be my last.

Beauty walks this world. It ages everything**
I love them according to the seasons
Let’s start with the winter scene  
It reminds me of June bridal dresses
Woven into the likeness of winter themes
Capturing Impureness without stresses’

The colors of springs, the beginning of testing,
  The attitude of one’s happiness that lies ahead for bracing sea breeze
The mindset of the summer beauty :shine through summer madness:

as we slowly move into the fall months
We tend to have spiritual thoughts about the madness of summer
The spring will dwindle, as the windy days come
Embrace the beauty of remaining days of summer

The beauty will be bottle in our hearts and mind for ever
Beauty walks this world, it ages like any another thing

I'm fixing to do something
That I shouldn't oughta
But let me say mister
These are desperate times

Can anyone blame me
For feeding my family
When you fight for survival
Is it considered a crime

When you hold up a store
That sells the devils firewater
Would that be a sin
In the good Lords eyes

Cause that's what I'm bout to do
You can read it in the papers
I just hope it don't say there
A desperate man died

And that he was too young
When the clerk with the shotgun
Without a question
Ended his life

With words from his family
How the kids miss their daddy
Story continued and ending
On page 25...

Blissful ignorance,
Dance baby dance.
Beat the pulse and lose your breath.
Wrapping my legs around native strangers.
Live it, feel it but never ever believe it.
Cristal rivers poured over my *******.
Lick it off, intoxicating truths confess.
Baoli wants all of you,
***, drugs and emptied pockets.
Pay those ghosts away in magnum bottles.
We've earned every laugh,
performed on every lonely road.
Save me no tomorrows,
tonight is all there is.
My heart is a caged blackbird,
contained in a bottle of Belver Bear.
Rohypnotic depletion of the mind,
a sleep that never dreams.
Shake awake with electronic groove.
No dark knight around to haunt me.
No maker of hope that lies.
Just a soul constrained in puppet moves.
I'm gonna do all that's bad,
To make everything back to good...

Julys have come and gone
in the hills of Shillong
and from the browned ORWO
the skinny boy with an oversized cap
smiles as if there's no tomorrow
but this moment
wrapped in fog and drizzle
holds everything within
the now filling life to the brim
making growth a needless shape
absurdly redundant
and never more real
than the eyes
peering from that shot of time
ecstatic in happiness
rejecting a future
too intangible
to be valuable.

I wish to age like a wrap-around porch
In a thunder storm,
While generations tell tales,
Sipping drinks.
A porch of blinking stars,
A shelter out of rain,
With ascending and descending friends.

I will age like a tree,
Grow stronger in the wind;
Give shade and shelter to all
Beneath my ring-aged limbs.

I wish to age as a river bends,
Contiguous with all shores;
Floating everyone I know
On eternal waters,
A current winding with no rest.

I will age like a star,
Burning bright, giving light,
Something to reach for.

I wish to age like a mountain,
With secret caves and riches.
And you can rock your soul
Around, over or through,
Solid, snow-capped summit,
Beckoning you.

I will age as the moon,
In stages, full and new;
Each night different,
Unnoticeable fading,
As all who age will do.