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exparte
It's best to keep too much dirty laundry spreading dust in |
cloning
just think |
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noise for RB & d.a . all life is noise motion to move spears waves amidst all the clamor the only sound the last one startling & hard silence |
poison candy
If we are the then I am waiting for the blind diabetics feel |
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shadow people
you see the |
60 year a million beers too many tears but then not enough time flies when you're having fun and even when you're not i await the pearly gate faux mother scraped from the shell dead is only in the head the clock stops on the outside smoky past can kiss my ass while i reach for rainbows and smile like the maddog i am a musical note rockin across the blackboard of time a pebble rolling down the big hill a rattle in the windowpane of forever |
surviving the trick to surviving is not to steel the body to beat the street tough you can't whip but to harden the heart to turn away the thrusts of pain thrown by soft hands that once touched lightly with love |
Mexican sandals sweltering heat has brought out old legs in shorts better left covered at the cafeteria observing the movements of humanity within the cool confines it must be old folks day i think and then recall that i too am old folks except that i have judgement enough still to keep my bird legs free from public view then it dawns on me it doesn't matter we all age become victim to gravity become old men with hairless legs hopefully not shining above too-short socks especially when those socks are worn with mexican sandals |
the dream i never once lost the dream even if it tried with all its might to lose me on those winding roads i still hear its footsteps in some dark corner of my mind shuffling now not spy not leaping like youth old and dusty but still alive still breathing fighting to survive still holding that last drop of hope |
Bananas Sitting in the cafeteria this afternoon drinking coffee I noticed a plain young lady pushing a cart holding only a bunch of bananas and I wondered if she really liked bananas that much or if perhaps she was just lonesome |
confluence when it comes to change and regret and faces wrapped in smoky color not abstract to the seeking eye nothing hidden from the heart that sees maybe it's time to wonder if rings so real in the beginning have spun around again become gold that lasts and if what came after was just a hopeless dream meant to fade with time |
wild horses silence is the sledge that drives me into the ground a human stake buried to the neck waiting for the next herd of wild horses |
tea She offers me her soothing tea, but I'd rather sip her soul from the fine china of her lips feel the porcelain smoothness of her perfection radiating warmth around my hands more comfortable than a hot mug of java around a nighttime campfire on the low range the stars spilling forever glints across endless night skies |
sweet moments I see watermelon clocks ticking time second by hour in green endless fields melodic sweet sugar moments preserved like candied fruit spread on toasty days and across still nights lost on lips already sweet enough to die for and so surely sweet enough to live for too |
spring spring explodes green outside my window rattles the universe with natural magic half a world away spring bursts on bloody ground and the explosions are a different hue the cry of birds in this spring light carry little above the cries of displaced humanity bleeding suffering another spring on Planet Earth our own third rock from the sun spilling doom into the deep well of forever |
Nothing is sacred & god is the product of evolution built by minds fearful of things unknown a plastic saint in sunday clothes sweatshop new gleaming w/the blood of true believers |
shadows I see pink folding to white as shadows lengthen across the pines the angle of rays sloping west across my realm and to lands further east where shadows fall across green eyes leaning into the coming evening like magic spun along wires clinging to afternoon poles and birds fly above unknowing |
rodeo we have all slashed and burned along the road mad cowboys and cowgirls in pursuit of the unrideable ride lucky to catch 8 seconds and the horn a backslap small pay and the chance to bust bones tomorrow in another dusty ring in another dusty town |
place I like the notion of sense of place of roots buried in some familiar spot not the kind of familiarity that breeds contempt but the kind that lets a man know the span of his space and the breadth of his sky if you want to know the pine tree don't go to Basho go to the pine tree and if you want to know your place in life don't ask me where it is but go find it for yourself you'll know it by the song it sings heard only by you |
pawpaw pawpaw had a hammer while mammaw was hanging picture he caved in the back of her head with it then tossed her into the bathtub so her blood would not foul the house he hated he then wandered into the thicket behind the house and hanged himself in the fork of a young mulberry tree she lived and he died and i remember looking at the coffin in the living room and asking when will pawpaw wake up and they replied he has gone to be with jesus move over pawpaw space is not unlimited anywhere |
I don't ask for much just 10 more good years sweet love to follow blank pages & screens to hold the words a face a smile in warm evening light a soul to wrap my heart around a last moment filled with smiling eyes and silent rest beneath dark fields of forever |
new year 2001 Another trip around the sun & i can hear old hank's voice singing the long gone lonesome blues across appalachian snow & i wonder at the twirl of enveloped ball across the days & miles of space & grasp for magic in cold air reach out more than an arm length bring back a fistful of hope & snowflakes pretty crystal bridges to icewater visions warm tub dreams |
softly When love sneaks away sometimes it goes on feet so soft you hardly miss it until the silence become palpable and then you know something is gone forever |
dust sometimes my heart is tender as kobe beef other times it is a glinting stone flashing in the harsh light of doubt pulled in all directions by diverse thoughts not designed for smiles and i wonder if the rising dust i see is something leaving or something coming home |
drama sometimes only the dramatic will work sometimes it take a boom in the night to light up the walls of reality sometimes it's better to bleed in silence & sometimes not sometimes before the heart breaks the last light must come sometimes it doesn't matter when it does |
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