Flickering flames lick,
tasting the wood,
consuming the faith,
long spoken into walls,

The cross glows molten,
a red that speaks to heat,
falling on the bare back hand,
branding the sigil permanantly.

The finger points to the heavens,
the distance insurmountable,
stars light years removed,
yet the god or God's reside there.

Ashes are all that's left,
no book or page survives,
yet faith continues stubbornly,
I often wonder why.

Ignited oil upon the griddle,
burning words, that mind fiddle,
confusion in meanings and context,
the futures behind me, but what is next.

The past is always tomorrow away,
and you live yesterday, like today,
the clock spins and unwinds,
yet you never regain the time.

The colors fade, but darkness brightens,
the grinning and laughter now it frightens,
the dreaded smile, and welcomed frown,
knowing that you never always let down.

Circular logic like a rubber ball,
always bouncing, but never falls,
sitting still in chronic motion,
sinking high into the ocean.

Occam's razor heals the skin,
Schrodinger's cat is always within,
The box is closed but nothing is concealed,
Cosby's Jell-O has congealed.

Where this goes,
everyone knows,
yet the knowledge is never learned,
and the ice fire can never burn.

From the peak of Olympus Mons,
I stare across the emptiness,
the distance is all red sand,
pocked by black rocks and rippling sand.

I float aloft on the Venusian clouds,
seeing nothing but gray mist,
that burns me producing red blisters,
as the sulfuric acid droplets play.

Hot, so hot, I begin to melt,
cold, so cold, I begin to freeze,
the fastest moving planet,
but the sun burned off its wings.

Now as far as I dare to cast,
I sit in the darkness on an icy planetoid,
the silence is complete, there is no view,
tiny dots of light mark the distance,
as we ride the cosmic tidal forces.

A salty wave washes over my face,
I am jolted back to reality,
the beach sand is rough,
and the golden sun reddens my skin.

From the desert to the Texas coast,
once a year trip I need the most,
a week of fishing with my guys,
planning it makes the year fly.

Mike and John in the Dodge truck,
I'm on the radio, they're out of luck,
a mix of stuff old and new,
metal, pop, rap, and country too.

Susie and Lies by David Allen Coe,
the stuff that never made the rad-i-o,
comedy by Rodney, Richard and more,
so much stuff you'll never be bored.

The road trip is more than half the fun,
Shady Rays on my face to block the sun,
headed down the highway making memories,
telling jokes and reminiscing histories.

Wow, imagine, this is just the ride,
who knows whats happening with the tide,
when we get there, buddies and fishing,
its months away, but this has me wishing.

Water gun full of tequila
another filled with lime,
bug shooter full of salt,
open your mouth it'll be fine.

No need to think,
let's all have a drink,
its a party after all,
let's all have a ball.

Shooting out drinks,
talking and mingling,
my face went numb,
and my hands are tingling.

No need to think,
let's all have a drink,
its a party after all,
let's all have a ball.

Active shooters come round again,
victims with mouths open wide,
the night goes on they begin to fall,
see them on the day's other side.

No need to think,
let's all have a drink,
its a party after all,
let's all have a ball.

Be Prepared not Scared
40 tucked in the back of my pants,
out in the street, people scurry like ants,
concealed carry license, two extra clips,
Swiss army knife, to slice or snip.

Boy scouts always say be ready,
every day carry, yeah mine is steady,
never leave the house  without being prepared,
it's about having a plan, not being scared.

Say you're at the mall one fine day,
suddenly thugs come out to play,
or you're at the shop, here come the looters,
or you come across an active shooter.

Do you want to cower down and die,
or protect yourself and others, rack the slide,
you've practiced but  it's hard to take a life,
but that dude is aiming at your wife.

He just shot your neighbor's kid,
so you pull your gun, shoot and glad you did,
double tap center mass, he goes down,
911 from your phone, the sirens sound.

Apply pressure to the wound of the kid,
she'd a few tears for what you witnessed and did,
but it could've been worse, just one fatality,
mentally unstable man with scrambled reality.

The point of this story is not to be a hero,
but to be ready to do more than zero,
planning and practice goes a long way,
sometimes it might even save the day.

The sun kissed the day,
tangerine smooches,
creating ocean breezes,
aquamarine reflections.

Capped white and reflecting,
as she climbed in the sky,
golden light bringing life,
from far away space.

Creating photosynthetic greens,
and bipedal dreams,
roaming and evolving,
yet destroying.

Mother nature's mistake.
trust.
trust for her creations,
to take care of her.