Some poems don't
work.
No amount of
tweaking will
fix it.
You can't finger it until
it comes.

Push the delete
button and
start over.
You write because
you have to.
It's in your cells.

You're a salmon,
swimming up
stream to stay
alive.
You write because
the nuthouse yawns,
and beckons.
It waits.

The cage door is
open, and the
water is
tainted with
mercury.
Fly away, or die.

If the writing
isn't working,
go fishing,
eat a tangerine or
some brussel sprouts.
Be livid
Be silly.
Study the *****
and the orchid.

Think about what the
color black tastes like, or if
pink whispers or yells.
And write until
the trivialities take
flight from your
life.
In the surrendering,
triumph will come.

I worship the stars, the moon,
the sun, this earth I stand upon.
Nature and all the peaceful
living breathing creatures that
share this space, the rivers that
course, the oceans that ebb and
flow. The rains that keep us green
the fields that keep us fed.
The ancient tribal people knew
this and put their faith in nature
and the celestial universe and they
thrived for thousands of years.
Some of my modern fellow humans
don't seem to understand, that all
this we already have is truly our
Heaven on Earth.

Strange
What dream
A man tries to catch
In broad day
As the world busily
Passes by him.

A fleeting glimpse I had of him
seated on a small slab napping.

Was the night harsh on him
as he lay on the floor
stinking with his toils
with no roof overhead
looking at an absurd firmament
hazily spangled with stars.

Was he weighing his life in starlight
counting rusted coins of losses
breathing heavily through the void
as darkness weighed him down.

Was he waiting for a sleep
that would ripen his dreams deep
reaching him to the farthest galaxy
where every objects were made
only for him

objects of riches and success
and then deeper beyond..
love, peace and happiness.

Maybe the night returned him no dream
and trying to make up
he sought the refuge of day.

Was I the man in the glimpse
I thought
with nothing but dreams
as I rode away into the day
to embrace what is destined!

We are miraculous.
Ropes of corded muscle
Intertwined—
A system so efficient
We have spent centuries
Attempting to imitate it.

We are
Astounding.
Life is a miracle
No robot
Can replace.

it's a one way trip
through this dream
and a quick one
be kind, and love
love with a one of a kind love
love in a never again love
love like you don't give a ****
love if nothing is returned
love and love again
love blind