Blue toenails,
red flip flops,
long legs,
beginning to tan in the springtime sun.

Blue bikini bottoms,
red strings tied on the side,
flat midriff,
a bunny tanning sticker.

Red bikini top,
with blue strings,
double bows tied,
across her back.

Blue glitter zinced lips,
smile at all the looks,
reflected in mirrors,
of oversized red sunglasses.

Red hair blows,
in the springtime wind,
gathering glints of blonde from the sun,
pony tail, ******* in a blue ribbon.

Clink, clink, clink,
ice on glass,
glug, glug, glug
clear fluids rise.

Splash and fizz,
as the color changes,
a green sour squeeze,
hang another on the side.

A red fingernail stirs
the mixtures in a circle
and a taste and smile
as she hands it to me.

Half drain the glass,
followed by a satisfied ahh,
and an order for another,
this time a double.

My pieces scatter
in cosmic winds
lightened by death
and freed.

Roaming the universe
in karmic dissolutions
awaiting rebirth
once again.

To prowl the landscape
in a predators form,
in search of needs
and spreading seeds.

Combined frequency
thought waves merge,
sine surfing together
the ups and downs.

Until one day
washing up on the shore
of an unknown coast
under purple skies.

A sweet sweet smile
had me walk for a mile
lured I was to her trap
the pain inflamed as it went snap.

Behind painted lips
and leg-baring slips
was a demon in disguise
unbelieved, until I saw with my own eyes.

My blood was let by her jaws of steel
my carotid ripped, I could no longer feel
my heart ripped out by painted claws
I gave into her without pause.

Trust of perfumed skin
should be very thin
and trust of a ***** grin
should never begin.

Years of recovery
lead to a discovery
a bit of knowledge for you
never bite off more than you can chew.

The mosaic of our love,
made of our shattered souls,
we helped each other
pick them up from the ground.

Conversation and laughter,
understanding our pasts,
sharing our pain,
began to glue us together.

A new picture began to form,
something new and beautiful,
a work of art being sculpted,
out of our broken hearts.

No longer pieces on the ground,
our passions since repaired,
where I had a hole, she had a patch
and where she was missing, I fit.

To find love inside of hate,
and depressing heartbreak,
created a lasting work
of loving hearts.

Lingual exploration,
enjoying her taste,
going back for another.

With fire burning,
hot and wild,
the night bleeds dark,
and scares the child.

With floors a' creaking
tree limbs scratch on glass,
winter winds make,
monsters en mass.

Buried under blankets,
as closet doors rattle,
imagined fear,
wins the battle.

With thunders boom,
and lightning's flash,
down the hall,
the child makes a dash.

At Dad's bedside
stops and stares
my eyes open
and now I'm scared.

Silent child,
stares at me,
is he awake,
what does he see?

Walking back,
turning on the light,
showing that,
there is no fright.

Good night now,
go to sleep,
hoping that,
no demons creep.

Stars, stars, stars
as I stare into the sky afar,
so many it boggles the mind,
but they're the only light I can find.

A road-worn tent, fly unzipped,
my place, since my heart was ripped,
she decided she needed to go,
so this mountain top is where I heal my woe.

6 months now, no phone no friends,
no lights, no fridge, not sure when it ends,
living on trout and cans of hash
it's cheap living, no need for cash.

Get up early, crack of dawn
start to fish, stifle a yawn,
decide I'm healed, let out a shout,
pack up and end my life's blackout.

In the moonlight glow,
I see her painted toes,
as we lay on the beach,
her body is in my reach.

Grains of sand
grind between our hands,
with such force,
a new diamonds source.

From within my pocket, I draw a ring,
I lean over to her, as my heart sings,
slip the ring on her finger,
give her a kiss, that starts to linger.

The stars reflect in her eyes,
as she reacts to the surprise,
she rolls over on top of me
her smiling beauty is all I see.

With mumbled yes's into my lips
and roaming hands and grinding hips
engagement beach, the sky shines bright
I hold on to her with all my might.

The smell of beer and fears
catch my nose as I walk in,
the tinkling ivories music drifts
across the floor to me.

My mind is filled with stories
as the music inspires my mind,
I create a mental biography
for all the people here.

The smiling bartender
fills up the pianist's cup,
they share a joke and a smoke,
as a new song begins to play.

I feel I know these people
though I know nary a name,
they came here for something
we are all searching for a reason.

I walk over and drop a tip
in the jar on the top of the piano,
a wink from the musician
and a pat from the old man sitting.

De ja vu strikes
have I been here before
as I hear the old man
ask for a memory to be played.

Back in the swamp,
deep in the woods,
take me to memories,
long gone by.

Wading the edges,
the river water flows,
tadpoles and moccasins,
swim on by.

Bullfrogs and dragonflies
battle in the evening,
underneath the rope
of an old tire swing.

Well cities have gotten to me,
fast paced lies and artificial people,
need to rest and rest my mind,
the river will do it every time.

Old cane pole and a night crawler,
a fifth of Jack and a Coleman lantern,
a basket full of catfish, swirling,
take me home to Green River.

On fairy wings of effervescent gold,
she flew away from love untold,
though I loved her with my hearts flow,
she would never stay so I let her go.

I miss her now like summer's heat,
in winter's cold her memories beat,
I miss her when I'm far from home,
forever I will, when I may roam.

I drown my pain in drinks and smoke,
the glowing cherry of every ****,
reminds me of her smile so bright,
I barely make it through most nights.

Perhaps one day this pain will heal,
or someone will change how I feel,
just maybe my door will one day knock,
her key will turn, never changed the locks.

They say you simply never know,
about love till you let it go,
they never mention all the tears like rain,
or you may not recover from the pain.

A double helix of deceit,
a terrifying twist of treachery,
a web of lies built of sin,
a nest of hornets, but let me in.

When we first start to deceive,
the warp and weft of the weave,
starts off slowly, sparing feelings,
but lighting the fuse of pain.

Like a *** of black powder,
dropped in the cannon's barrel,
loaded with more colored lies,
white, black, purple, all result in cries.

When the explosion touches off
and both sides, now seem lost,
one cannot believe the truth came out,
the other shocked and screams and shouts.

The blankets weave is complete
no more shall you compete,
spin can not be applied,
when you have been caught in your lies.

Passionate purple prose,
wrapped in ruby red refrains,
silken similes like satin,
mixed with meteoric metaphors.

Riddled rhyming rhythms,
vexed by vital verses,
initiated introspective introductions,
excellent excited endings.

Parted clouds reveal,
blue skies,
and fading sunlight,
night begins anew.

Kneel and pray
to gods nature,
a renewal, like spring
healing slowly.

Tears come fast and free,
enough to fill the sea,
hidden here behind,
the willow curtain clears my mind.

When life is hard to bear,
no one seems to care,
I hike into the trees,
a place emotions free.

The plants all understand,
as my tears water the land,
they are refreshed and so am I,
and I go on with this life of mine.

"I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel",
Johnny cash sings 'Nails
and I understand.

The pain of this life
is a cumulative thing
burrowing slowly at first
then quickly into your soul.

Some look for love
others just numbness
from wherever and whoever
they can find it.

My love shines brighter than the sun,
no matter how far, to you, I'll run,
sweep you up, into my arms,
give you all my tender charms,

With this promise, mine to give,
for our lives, with me please live,
share my house and my name,
forever can we play this game.

A piece of bone kept,
a jar of tears wept
a piece of clothing, a bit of skin
anything to remember my sin.

The Sandman was scared away,
by the demon not tucked away,
I cannot dream, I cannot live,
something has got to give.

I fight the monster with Ambien,
and Lunesta has become a friend,
but he creeps back from banishment,
and tortures me with his whip.

Searching for home,
places for the lost heart,
a key searching for a lock,
an arrow for its target.

To scatter one's, soul,
across the universe,
shotgun pellet style,
maybe effective.

But when and if,
the target is hit,
to gather one's self,
takes eons.

Morning quiet, all my own,
a steaming cup of tea,
as poems grow in my mind,
and spill onto the page.

The ever present sweep of hands
in the great numbered circle,
slowly counting us down,
to the infinity of eternity.

The pendulum swings,
time passes by the second,
never to be returned,
some used, others thrown away.

Tick, tick, tick,
we hear it first,
then we begin to feel it,
then we begin to see it.

The iron grip
of the clock,
its hands turned to fingers
gripping and squeezing our youth.

I sit and stare,
pencil sharp,
yet no words appear on the page,

A blankness of paper and mind.
I count the pixels,
on the plain white screen,
they mock me,
I want to fill them,
but can think of nothing.

In the labyrinth of my mind,
and in the folds of gray matter,
words and thoughts hide,
a game of hide and seek,
my muse plays with me.

There was nothing,
but there was something,
in the nothing,
I could just see it,
out of the corner of my eye,
but not clear enough to read it.

Where once words frolicked,
on a great open plain,
forming verse with the wind,
changing as predators chased.

Now a blank desert,
where have the words gone,
hidden, sleeping, lost,
in the jungle,
at the edges of thought?

Hidden meanings,
trapped in memories,
released by,
the piercing whine.

The rumbling tracks,
once punctuated by an
exclamation point of smoke,
now nothing.

An escape,
I jump on,
as it trundles by
to someplace.

Empty boxcar,
I hide in the shadows,
curled up in the corner,
waiting for where it stops.

Chicken, fried,
and collard greens,
with bacon and onions,
a pinch of sugar and salt.

Sweet Tea,
brewing in the sun,
and homemade pies cooling,
in the springtimes window.

The smell of cornbread,
baking up golden crisp,
buttered and honeyed,
a *** of pintos bubbling.

Children run and play
in their Sunday's best,
while mother's fuss,
about not getting *****.

Ham, and blackeyed peas,
green and congealed salads,
all brought out,
red and white checked cloth.

Sunday lunchtimes,
after church,
potlucks of yore,
I miss the desserts.

Flashing silver scales,
under flowing river water,
hidden eddies behind rocks,
harbor the beast I seek.

The sun casting shadows,
as I cast my line,
the splash and pop,
of the chug bug, I stop and wait.

Silver and copper blades,
glinting in the cold green water,
the afternoon sun,
casting reflections.

Tributaries mumble as they enter the river proper,
splashing bait here and there,
the flash of green and orange,
juvenile sunfish schooling.

Fathead minnows,
dart back and forth,
at the surface of the water.
ripples following behind.

Mosquito larvae wiggle,
as the mayflies emerge,
lacy wings, erupt in mass,
the water’s surface explodes with fish.

My fly drifts through the air,
attached to canary floating line,
I matched the hatch,
as it hits the water, a strike.

Pain, love, sorrow, and much, much more
all contained in thoughts and words,
if they could all just fly away,
like a raucous flock of birds.

But instead, they visit me,
time and time again,
to peck and peck and peck at me,
like cold wet drops of rain.

Sometimes just one comes round,
I feed it seed by hand,
this I don't mind and manage,
problems are when many make demands.

They each take a piece of me,
I try to run and hide,
but alas I cannot,
because of me, they are inside.

In your eyes of aquamarine,
as I stare deep into them,
I am transported, to warm beaches,
gentle waves, and swaying palms.

Your breath on my neck,
reminds me of cruise ship afternoons,
as the gulf wind blows across our deck,
out on the balcony of our stateroom.

Your bare skin, bronzed in the sun,
except in the covered places,
takes me to the pool,
with blazing sun reflections.

The feel of your fingers
slowly crawling across my chest
takes me to Cozumel,
caressing each other in clear blue water.

The taste of your kiss,
sweet as can be,
takes me to our wedding day,
I do's at the lake side.

The muddy brown brook crawled,
through the supporting legs,
of the red brick bridge,
as clouds cast gray shadows.

The muted mumble of water,
squirming through rocks,
in the narrow shallows,
faded as I walked its bank.

Turquoise skies peeked through,
and golden sun rays spotlighted,
points of interest in nature,
as I followed the waterway.

Boulders of granite glisten,
as dew pooled and ran,
down the craggy sides,
augmenting the glistening of quartz.

Red ants and emerald beetles,
scurry over sticks and stones,
that littered the narrow trail,
I duck and dodge myself as I stroll.

Silver thorns on fresh green briar,
grab my blue jeans, sinking their teeth in
deeper as I struggle, piercing skin
and I feel a crimson drip begin.

Squirrels shout and bark at me,
telling me to leave, as I emerge
into the great devoid openness,
of the asphalt parking lot.

In the bottom of the quagmire
lays a pile of ancient bones,
no one ever sees them,
they are quite alone.

Once a man of vision,
who decided to hide his eyes,
so he could listen to the world,
and become more wise.

He heard the sounds of birds,
and they sounded nice,
he listened so hard,
he even heard the mice.

He heard the people's whispers
they thought that he was crazy,
others told him loudly
that he was simply lazy.

To blindfold one's self
and sit and hear all day
and to shun his work
when there are bills to pay.

Well perhaps they were right
so he left the house for a stroll,
but left the blind in place
with his life, he paid the toll.

On his first journey,
off listening his way,
into the quagmire he walked
and stays there still today.

cervisiam
ternum sal,
calcis suci,
litus,
solis,
pulchrae puellae
ducens vitam Pellitos
confundito
et fruar

Translation

Beer,
pinch of salt,
lime juice,
beach,
sun,
beautiful girls
******* clad
mix together
and enjoy

The wind blows nonstop,
as the semi rides down the highway,
a cloud of dust blocks out the view,
and tightens my sinuses.

The blowing straps tap out a beat,
an occasional drift onto rumble strips
accompanies the rhythm,
ever present bass drum of the wind beats on.

The windshield air leak whistles along,
I find my toe tapping
and my hand snapping
uncontrollably with the song of the road.

Old sun bleached boards
creak underfoot, some sag,
under the weight of years
and threaten to quit as I step.

The old rusty open sign,
lies through its teeth,
as its one remaining chain
complains in the breeze.

A dust devil walks slowly
through the old worn out town
bringing the smell of history
with notes of manure and gunpowder.

Shattered windows and broken hearts
are seen and brought to mind
peppered with exciting gold rush
and gunfights, scenes from another time.

I return to the now, as my ignition starts
and I drive down the lane, once filled
with horses and buggies and schooners,
in the distance shiny new, behind me ghosts wave.

Landlocked,
but in my mind,
I see the sea,

Crashing waves,
I feel the spray,
and hear the roar.

In memories of the past,
and in music's melodies, I travel
from Marina del Rey to the Frio river.

Smooth clear water,
rushing through white rocks
dressed with green moss.

Beauties in inner tubes
float by, with coolers strapped,
but those never lasted.

I have loved and worshiped
but that's gone with the breeze,
now I sit and soak and remember.

Time is of the essence
Grime begins putrescence
Dime store effervescence
Prime for evanescence
Rhyme begins coalescence
Crime of adolescence
Chime mental iridescence
Climb into obsolescence

Whether celluloid or pixelated screen,
it takes me to memories of the scene,
oh my god, what was I wearing,
do not remember what drink we're sharing.

Goofy grins or vogueing poses,
weddings or proms and lapel roses,
candid shots not meant for all,
or family portraits for the wall.

Moments trapped with bits of time,
to look now is quite sublime,
some of the people that were dear,
bring some tears, they're no longer here.

Laughter bursts out of my lungs,
silly children on ladder rungs,
upside down on monkey bars,
oh the youth, eyes filled with stars.

Look at this one, I had hair,
I'm bald now, so don't stare,
Tears and laughter as we look,
thumbing through old photo books.

A moon and sun, rise on each horizon,
the light and reflection is blinding,
but at midday, the shadows fall,
in the daily eclipse.

Blurred visions,
seen through
prismatic lenses.

Iridescent scales,
shimmer romance
in turquoise waters.

Enraged waves,
froth the surface,
whipping kelp frenzies.

Lost in the rocks,
searching for nourishment,
crab claws open and close.

Reality closes in,
graphite imprints white fibers,
imagined colors drain.

Lost in the sketch,
mental vacations permanence,
shattered like a dropped crystal ball.

Swept into a pile,
but cannot be retrieved,
lost forever ephemeral.

Lost in concrete canyons,
lined with glass and steel,
inhabited by metal monsters,
with shiny teeth and high-pitched growls.

The canyon floor teems,
critters following along paths,
all headed somewhere,
with a semblance of importance.

Flashing lights of three colors
seems to control the flow,
stopping and starting,
as they change in pattern.

The smell ranges from
delicious sweet somethings,
to acrid black clouds that burn
and on to aromas better and worse.

Shadows dominate most of the day
but when the sun is at its peak,
a light like no other reflects and blinds
off shiny, objects and walls, incredible.

My zippered eyes finally opened,
and saw,
what I had looked passed
for ages on end.

The sleeper can awaken,
from dreams,
and walk amongst
the reality of life.

Those on the path,
must loosen laces,
and run,
barefoot in the grass.

We, tired and bound,
struggle with bonds,
slowly,
lubricating freedom with blood.

The hum of insects,
tall weeds blow in the breeze,
mesquite leaves sway in time,
as I chalk the edges of my call.

Put, put, put, put,
the turkey call sings,
wait for a beat,
gobble gobble gobble.

Big tom turkey replies,
he is not far,
as I pull on my camo mask and gloves,
and become one with the tree I lean on.

12 gauge is loaded and ready,
I hit the call again, put, put, purr,
he responds again closer,
ah, there he is at the edge of the field.

Purple thistle blooms and blue bonnets,
dot the field he must cross,
tom turkey dances full strut,
as I hit the call again.

Brown feathers with iridescent accents,
fully extended tail fan peacock style,
as he approaches my hen decoy,
hit the call gobble and bang.

Turkey dinner has been harvested,
and nature has been communed with,
thanks nature for the bounty and the beauty,
and the meal in the making.

The smell of manure and dust in the air,
sounds of livestock, must be time for the fair,
lots of things to see and food to eat,
but you know what is my favorite treat.

Girls at the fair are looking tight,
hair got curled, make up just right,
shined up boots and denim and lace,
walking around with country girl grace.

Jeans cut so short they're pockets hang out
everybody is smiling too excited to pout,
blingy shorts shining in the sun,
way more loaded than any gun.

How they got them on it's hard to figure,
but I'm just about ready to pull the trigger,
cut one out of the milling herd,
the redhead there who hasn't said a word.

Asked her if she wants some roasted corn,
answer drowned out by the 8 second horn,
the bull ride is on and the crowd is screaming
she said yes again, I hope I'm not dreaming.

Girls at the fair are looking tight,
hair got curled, make up just right,
shined up boots and denim and lace,
walking around with country girl grace.

Got some corn and some lemonade,
I'm feeling like I got it made,
Strolling the midway hand in hand
Winning stuffed animals in demand

Walking on over to the concert
Blonde looks at me and starts to flirt,
I flash her a smile and just keep walking
This red and I just started talking.

Girls at the fair are looking tight,
hair got curled, make up just right,
shined up boots and denim and lace,
walking around with country girl grace

The music plays, presses her lips to mine
This evening has turned divine
Singing and dancing between the kisses
My aim is on there are no misses

I picked this one and with precision
I'm glad I made this decision
She is gorgeous with the wind in her hair
Man I'm glad I came to the fair

Girls at the fair are looking tight,
hair got curled, make up just right,
shined up boots and denim and lace,
walking around with country girl grace.

My mind projected,
thoughts land on lily pads,
rising and falling,
as the waves head to shore.

Assimilating energy,
coalescing into solid matter,
the bullfrog dives in,
the lake of possibilities.

Swimming in sunken desires,
consumed by the passing bass,
combined essences now emerge,
evolving scales and aggression.

Crawling onto the sun-beaten landscape,
dried until fragile,
breaking into thousands
of tiny ants scattering.

I awaken from my nap,
at the water's edge,
on a park bench,
in a state of fugue.

Floor boards wiggle,
springs zephyr invades,
through plaster and lath,
and under pier and beams.

Sunlight squirms through,
illuminating dancing motes,
dripping dew taps out a beat,
in the middle of the room.

Once full of life and colors,
now empty and drab,
the only inhabitants now,
are memories and pests.

Sometimes I feel the need to write,
other times, thoughts are bound up tight.
There are moments that I need to hug,
and others I feel like cutting a rug.

The fetal position is sometimes needed
when you are gutted and soul is bleeding.
Some days require a smile brighter than the sun,
and the need to go and do something fun.

A few hours in life contain love and pain,
as you watch your love's life drain away.
Glad you are, they have no more moans,
then you realize, that you are alone.

Wedding days and lifting veils,
like you found the holy grail.
Others minutes are of pure joy,
no matter if its a girl or a boy.

Seconds, minutes, days and years,
enjoy them, be happy, have a beer,
but take the good with the bad
and realize they are the only ones you get to have.

With panicked breath,
and so hot my sweat steams,
I kick the covers to the floor,
sit up straight and stifle screams.

I hear no voices from inside,
they tell me nothing all day,
hiding away from the light
but at night come out and play.

Coalescing demons
dripping blood and other gore,
things that make movies
nothing but a yawning bore.

The winds of change always blow,
in a neverending zephyric flow,
sometimes less and sometimes more,
you never know just what's in store.

Sometimes rains comes on with,
or hurricane's forces surpassing myth,
snow occasionally whites out blind,
then the sun comes and we're all fine.

From the mud grasses bloom,
and colors us away from gloom,
opportunities now abound,
pick and choose from all around.

Heat picks up and everything dries,
the only moisture is from our cries,
but this is short and seasons change,
life is cyclical, nothing strange.

Everpresent wind increases,
canceling all the leaves leases,
blowing them into pyres,
we ignite them with sparks of fire.

Rattlesnakes crawl under mesquites,
leaflets wiggle in the wind,
wild turkeys call in the distance,
bringing me back again and again.

The baa of sheep and the bovine bellows,
as evening falls, crickets chime in,
low fire crackles, for the sound more than heat,
hoping that the weekend won't end.

Bobwhites call in fading light,
nighthawks and whippoorwills also speak,
eighteen wheels whine in the distance,
reality into my world just leaked.

Coyotes call as jackrabbits run,
the final darkness has blanketed light,
the stars all shine, not a cloud blows by,
on the central Texas springtime night.

Tired and weary,
introspective and teary,
with each drop from your eye,
purges pain, it's okay to cry.

Life has green pastures some of the time,
at others, there are hills and mountains to climb,
sometimes there is wind and there is rain,
occasionally those help to put out the fire and pain.

So no matter what cards are dealt in your hand,
set your shoulders and hear only your internal band,
dance on through life, let the problems slide by
don't take them inside, it's okay to defy.

Do you ever feel,
like you're stuck in a rut,
does every day,
feel like a punch to the gut.

Nothing is right,
no matter how hard you try,
it's enough to make you,
want to sit down and cry.

Not sure how,
but you weather the storm,
you always do,
despite it's chosen form.

The river it rolls,
and the thunder does too,
you let them go past,
while eating homemade stew.

The punches keep coming,
but you throw up your guard,
you shrugged them off,
and continue, life is hard.

Never hidden from sight,
the moral authority searches,
anonymous no more,
as microscopes quests.

Looking for meanings within meanings,
if any inkling of offense is found,
expect a social media stoning,
nothing can be let go.

Satellites, traffic cams, on every phone,
there is no escape, no recourse,
desert islands are no more,
everything can be seen, even under your skin.

We can look to the beginning of creation,
Hubble's eyes see deep,
Keppler examining long distances
attempting to find other habitable worlds.

Tethered to sea creatures,
patrolling the dark and pressured depths,
it is a visual world,
and there is no escape.

Examining eyes, stare my way,
but these I don't mind at all,
baby blues belonging to my wife,
attached to a smile.