The Song

To see the womb of creation
in the places where Mother Earth
has touched
and know this life is, but a gift,
brings a song into the heart.

Finding its notes
written in bark, stone and so much more,
an everlasting serenade of inspiration
for being grateful to have every breath,
walking through the sand and grass
under the spreading canvas of blue
just happy to be able to savor its majesty.

Learning to live its music
as a bird,
letting wings within
spread in joy's lifting winds.

Ripples

Silent psalm in secret subdued fury,
nature's watery fingers flowing softly
through the rustic core,
but having left their liquid prints
sculptured in hollowed messages,
Mother Earth's words with a visually stunning stain.

They bring their remnant essence
into the mind as metaphors of presumption's ruination,
and stir reminders of life's transcendence.

A note written that deeply sketches itself
within one's consciousness's parchment,
how there is no time of surety's seconds
when what stands defiant
can't feel a ripple from powers beyond its grasp.

Awe flows in the gaze,
this majesty of miracle
tending in its muted splendor,
that appreciated thundering in awakening,
about how the frail sheath that beats in our preoccupations
is never a concrete hearth.

Another scenic sonnet,
which speaks in its potent majestic artistry,
the inspiration for a passion
to never take a single glance
without knowing it might not come again.

Savoring the Truth

Fearless feline sleeps
taunts his favorite canine
knowing Fido's chain is tight.

Cat dreaming new plots
enjoys secret of cunning
meow plans worst threat than barks.

This Isn’t Missouri, But Shut Up Anyway!

How come every nut who is delusional
seems to know my name?
And is able to prove the most insane truths
because they couldn’t tell reality
if God came and explained it to them.

Now excuse me,
if I might not be from Missouri,
known as the “show me state,”
so please don’t tell me the sky is made of sauerkraut
before you toss some on a paper cloud
as validity that you are right.

I’ve heard the zealots, fanatics and disciplines
who worship everything from bushes to trash cans
explain their wisdom with such passion,
only without a single ounce of credibility.

Maybe aliens are running the government,
the Loch Ness Monster is wife
to the dude who built the pyramids,
or there are vending machines that are immortal,
really don’t want to know
because unless they are going to pay my bills,
make my life other than one long yawn,
just spare me any evidence of their existence.

Don’t Ask

I am the crab of my own persuasion
always moving sideways
when answering any question,
my moods fluctuate with no warning,
while behind my eyes
are secrets I may or may not share.

The shell I occupy is in my head,
don’t ask me to open the door
just wait until the inspiration strikes,
then I’ll gladly let you in,
but look quick
because you never know
what second my attitude will change.

Like an ocean are the currents
creating the waves of my emotions,
they’ll wash in so many directions
waxing and waning in their intensity
until my behavior
seems most like a full moon dementia.

If you can ride the crest of my thought tides
learn to know it is just the whirlpool within
tugging and twisting my spirit
and not the result of your conversation,
what you’ll discover in my quiet cove
where most never are allowed to visit
are the pure waters of insight
we can both swim
before the sharks I sense with my mind’s eye
make me close the beach again.

Happy New Year!

We going to have a big bash for 2013,
since the year before things are sort of strange,
whole cities sinking into holes,
oh those Mayans sure were so smart.
Their calendar is freaking us all out,
at least those who survive
on those government arks.
And don’t the Himalayas really look so grand
in December of 2012.

But cheer up world,
some will survive,
some will dance and sing.
Though most will be buried
under tons of earth
still the survivors will deserve a party.

Darn nasty neutrinos from that solar flare
is going to give all us fits.
It's okay since John Cusack wrote about it
while driving his limousine
for some big shot billionaire
with a ticket in the life saving,
super rich ark lottery!

Don’t blink or you might miss it all,
might end up wiped out forever.
Yet it is all good,
perfectly fine,
this is only a movie,
well in 2011 it is cool.

Don’t make any plans
that will take more than two years
because we got hope for a sequel
in order make us freak out less.
There’s just no fun in Hollywood
planning the end of the world
unless you got box off options
from a second flick!

Lunch Time

When noon strikes my stomach
like an alarm clock
screaming in my brain,
I want food, sustenance,
something to eat
that ends my hunger.

But I can’t go to lunch
with Carl very often,
for to seek a feast
having him as a companion
means to hear every tale
about some former tummy disaster.

He’ll moan so slowly
each sordid detail of pass ptomaine pains.
Including the trip to the hospital,
whining and scouing the menu
explaining the potential sickness
you could possibly get
from eating a burger or bowl of soup.
Slowly his eyes will widen
in a crazed panic
about how tomorrow's servings will be worse.
Eventually he’ll get headache
over all his former meal doom
and the fear of what will come.
Settling for crackers and a glass of beer
before sobbing uncontrollably
while muttering about sugar and caffeine
are infected with bugs,
then he’ll nearly pass out from the anxiety.

Meanwhile I order my favorite entree,
not thinking at all about other noons.
At least I can enjoy the entertainment
plus watching the snickers of other patrons.

 

Advice

Stand on pulpit
preach against termites,
protest the scourge,
argue for demise.

Podium collapses
because never
checked wood
for insects.

Horns

Rhetoric’s resonance resounding its reason,
written to orchestrate
a cohesive symbiotic serenade
and induce a serene cathartic clarion call,
shaping the cerebral spine
into an arching ballet
as an ornamental social figurine
postured in cloned clarity,
expressing the transparency
of crystalline conformity.

In silence the soul’s is shaped into solidity,
embracing the sounds of the conscience,
becoming the vanguard emblem
for the cruise of minds and hearts.

Until the pose bears its own trumpet
having a song with lucid notes,
its music summoning a peaceful inner psalm,
becoming the tangential composition
between self and the whole.

All The Frozen Fun

Sliding down
a winter’s icy hill
on an inner tube
using a snow bank
for brakes.

Slush in the boots
such a good reason
to head for a fireplace,
sip on hot chocolate
until the socks dry,
then back for more fun
happy to know
there is always
more coco
and extra socks
for the rest of the day.

New Paint

Oh what incredible sense of peace
to think I can’t remember
every foul up, blunder and error
from a different life in a different face.

Only it does make me pause and think
is there a way to suddenly get a charge
into my psyche from my other lives?
Yeah, perhaps a blast of hypnosis
would unlock those wonderful achievements
that I did in some other life.

Now this can lead to so many questions
such as could I find out I was some villain
in another age that I really hated.
Maybe I would feel so guilty
that I would need to confess my crime
like that would really prove I was sane.

But the amazing bounty that lurks
in those shadows of past times,
makes it so appealing to know
what happen in a distant era.

Sure does get fuzzy though
since I worry most
I’ll find out I was my own ancestor
and then how can I blame my problems
on my heritage
because it would be my own fault!

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner?

I’m tired of the darn parrot’s bragging
he’s been everywhere and done everything,
thought I would go nuts listening
to him boast about flying on a jet plane
since our own, Granny took him with her
when visiting her grandkids last summer.

But now I’m going to shut up him
thanks to my new buddy,
we’re flying up to a mountain top
where I can some branch with berries.
Oh yeah even though that parrot’s green
bet he’ll envy that surprise.

Only be for a little while
because I promised my pal
a special snack for making the trip
and it better be old Polly
instead of tail!

Suppose I will act shocked
not squawk my joy at all,
in order to keep the other pets
living in the house
from knowing I’m
that kind of bird of a feather!

 

Dinner Time

My world fades at sunset
as night covers my dinner plate,
I look at the meal and there is no dessert,
what I once hoped as my feast
has been replaced by dull and bland buffets.

Gazing at that pitiful serving
while remembering when I imagined
such bountiful options,
not this ordinary entrée that doesn’t inspire
or fill me with the excitement I once craved.

Oh there was a time I envisioned a life
with every meal consumed at gourmet restaurants,
sampling succulent and savory treasures,
every day a masterpiece in mouthwatering morsels.

It would have been perfect and so amazing,
but those epicurean fantasies just evaporated,
a victim of more desire than choices,
kept telling myself it would change,
only as time elapsed the hope shrank,
until now I sit with fast food leftovers
feeling that memory withering as a dying leaf,
fallen from my tree of tomorrows that will never be
as autumn comes to my reality.

Tethers

Conscious tethered
to cosmic illumination
in a moment
of starburst epiphany,
when mind becomes a telescope
discovering life’s heartbeat
beyond one’s own planet.

Distinction

Pedestal gazes
from esteem's tombstone factory
taking lessons to be troll,
because it is one's inheritance,
while dreaming
of ascending
to light
reflecting off
lusted paragon's image.

Can't soliloquy
uttered while holding mirror
behind one's back,
so don't have to see
lack of distinction
between face idolized
and one's reflection.

Sky Cymbals

Leaden tapestry above
the spreading platform
for that cloud cacophony
its power blast so deafening
before it echoed in heart flinches
off the Rock Mountains.

Orange auras of aftermath
glowed where that explosion
symphony sounded.

For a new resident of Denver
this was music unforgettable
and left you trembling.

 

The Scars Of Morn

The sun is a crucifix
of petrified reveries
when its radiance regurgitates
assassins from melancholy’s crypt,
slicing away at old wounds.

In the disquieting stillness
they cut the vocal chords,
muted by repressed passions,
fear’s henchmen holding a razor
to the will.

A gaze into the illumination
exposes the nakedness
from mutated vanity.

Looking glass quintessence
reveals its mask,
heart is consumed in the view
upon the calming veracity
no longer a parrot of borrowed incantations,
sagacious mime awaken
singing with sight instead of mouth.

Dwell Within My Existence

You’ll never know the echoes of my heartbeats
until you come inside the walls of my eyes,
open the door of my lips
and go beyond what you think
resides within the chambers in my mind.

For by the fireplace of my living room
burns the passions of my soul
its flames you’ll never feel
from looking outside of who I truly am.

So quietly enter this place
where I thrive and shed tears
while each decoration of my desires
shines with its intensity,
totally expressing all their special array.

Now come to spend time so sincerely
and allow my love to become more than words,
let it breathe and be an incense
to inhale with all its pure fragrance
when it will engulf your mind and very essence,
slowly bringing the spell of its aroma
deep into your own being.

Then together shall we drift into dreams,
a maze of paradise touches and lilting lashes
beyond the layers of a day
that can be explored, experienced,
savored and cherished
once you undress of your assumptions
and walk willingly into my abode.

Outlets

Rising from night’s stifling cocoon
anxiously looking for an outlet of security
out of the confusion and chaos.

Clinging to any tree found
that has a sense of stability
even if its bark bites and wounds,
causing the hoped for security
to become so dire and painful.

But the mind never ceases its flutters
against the bleeding disappointment.
Those instinctive habits of the heart
consume with hunger for logic
seeking anywhere to land without chaos.

Dreams are the bandage
worn on scarred and torn wings.
Eyes ever gazing for a wind
that brings a chance to float
away from the resting places,
which burden with a hurt instead of calm.

Warmth

Journeys taken standing still
nothing greeted,
except a friend,
nature’s tongue
licks with the rain, sights or scents
that caress and inspire,
mind immerses in a laughter
without voice or sound.

So many faces
form in the mind
bringing the pure sense of euphoria.

Like a wind it is fleeting,
has so many origins,
but for that precious moment
of inner radiant song
the world becomes a melodious piano
whose music
quiets the dogs of night.

Lost Worlds

Should cyberspace fall into a black hole
and my keyboard ship lose its fuel,
my heart would surely cease to soar
from the void in net stars,
and if planetoids of sites were destroyed,
my being would be swallowed in its collapse.

I would stumble as a zombie,
shocked and horrified
over how my pristine URL wilderness
was now a ruinous wasteland
just a black sheet on my monitor,
silent, dead and eternally entombed.

Then once I survived the withdrawals,
having tried both night and day
hoping for one fleeting chance to visit again,
it would be time eyes would rediscover
the sky above and grass outside my window.

Listen for the birdsong forgotten
recall how nature was more
than a screen saver.

Enter a library to explore
when print was crown over thought.

Feel love that wasn’t email induced,
know joy that didn’t come
from finding a perfect link
at Google search engine.

Oh I would be resilient in my endurance,
yet clutching my remote,
for I might not die from demise to internet,
but take away my cable
and doomsday would possess my spirit.

Gaps

Alone so far from the hearth of serenity
where in better dreams it was home,
such suspended in a gap
between joy’s haven and sorrow’s snare.

Heaven is felt in the mind
as the vision of sky born flights
far from the rain of tears.

Below is the gray foggy haze
of what is unknown
though the ghosts of the past,
the terrors and tyrants howl
to make the skin cringe
from the fear they might wait again
if one dares to descend
into that maze called reality.

While their sounds dig into the nerves
every sense recalls that pains,
yet feeling so empty inside
over just sitting where there is no happiness
just a cold silence archway
ever inviting one to bridge
each concern and anxiety
and discover the gems of life.

A Burnished Buffet In Brilliance

Of marmalade iridescence
and sanguine tides in radiant rays
are the illuminated buffet that burns in the mind
with its auras of heated tints
like the fuchsia festoons of vibrant light tendrils
strung across the late afternoon sky
as the gems of July erupting in their incandescence.

They bring their blaze into the day
where it becomes the intense expression
that sears the senses,
disrupts the colorless cerebral canvas
in stunning arrays that varnish the mind
give it power and resilience
until you inhale the sun,
feel its solar sway lure to spells
so totally inebriating the conscious,
which dips into a tangerine tease
that summons its citrine sensations,
those sweet and tangy seductions
utterly enticing to taste and devour
any fruit of day star in all its manifold creations.

Through a stroll upon those sandy shores
it all bakes the pores with the memories
about claret and magenta hues
whose effigies drift through the head
to become an enlightening seasoning
for allowing the mind, body and soul
a chance to complete savor
the natural artistry of summer’s airy canvas.

 

Those Darn Package Plans!

The guy at the booth
over at the mall,
spilled all those fancy words
about deals and minutes
and how I would get such a bargain
with his all purpose,
unlimited time,
extra wham, bam long distance options!

Didn’t really ask
why it was called the “Felix plan,”
didn’t read the fine print
where it mentioned
that paw liberty option
because the phone carrier
had a thing about cat communication.

So here I am
with a great deal on my cell phone,
only with the provision
got to lead all the cats in the neighborhood
use it to call their pals.
Who knew there was a 900 number
for “meow magic?”
The litter box hot line was interesting,
but not sure the I like
seeing all those calls on the bill
made to yawn ball fantasies.
At least they got a no stick feature
so I don’t get cat hairs in my mouth
when using it after them.

A Modicum Of Restraint

I can quit anytime I want,
all those who claim
that I’ve lost my head
to this supposed addiction
are merely jealous of my joy.

Though my family
are now memory vapors,
despite the useless dribble of that therapist,
even with my boss
having taken away my career
claiming my passion for this hobby
detracted from my efficiency,
inside I know in the recesses of my heart
they are all envious over my blessings.

For now I see and sense those shells of pleasure
with everywhere I go finding them appearing as an awakening,
as they dominate and consume my mind with a new life.

Yet, I suffer a visionary’s martyr fate,
just because unlike many who are slaves to vanities,
there is no weakness in me for such indulgences.

What they call a sickness
is to me being focused
at last finding the genuine core of truth
and I’ll never abandon this genesis in my soul,
because it is real life and not an compulsive obsession.

Her Name is Alice - Shinedown

She sips so slowly from an ivory bottle
before seeing the appearing Cheshire cat.
He’s convinced his prowess will prevail
until she pulls out a butcher knife from her dress,
seconds later he lies skinned and in a bloodied pool.

Alas her elixir was a narcotic that produced psychosis,
a gift from the Mad Hatter.

And being a cat lover to the heart
meant dinner instead of a pet.

Half Way House

Seeing paradise always in another’s gaze,
who keep it private and don’t let any trespassing,
except if you sell them your brain
and then use your heart for their pillow.

Stranded in the demolition section of life
left to live in a home that isn’t really a home,
because I am a visitor and one not wanted,
so again along the paths I’ve trod
happiness is a place not found,
trapped in the abodes
that become a world of squandered seconds.

Dreams hang on the wall of my head
of perfect residences and castles,
they are the strings of hope’s golden thread
I wrapped around myself.

Before me are the shadows of pillars
from all the power brokers
who don’t do other than tease
while keeping gold and gems in a vault.

Though the dangling them as bait
if I will become their slave,
sometimes succumb to the need
for not seeing all my destinations turn mirages,
still not convinced that filling in the gaps
where I look at the place I want to be
and know it is still out of reach.

Shallows

You waded into the water,
but were afraid of drowning,
we could have swam so deep,
let it immerse our hearts
in love’s baptism
as it washed us together
with such incredible waves.

Only you were afraid,
too fearful of getting wet,
even though we could have known
that spellbound sense of submersion
into a pool so intoxicating
where I would flow the fount inside
to let you float like a sailboat
beyond the place you hide.

Just couldn’t let go and trust to your heart
and let me be your life preserver.
It would be an amazing,
heart pounding passage.
Now you are just drifting
along the beach in your head,
safely avoiding the water
with the happiness it would have brought.

Hare Raising

I gazed at the portfolio of attributes
given the year of the Rabbit
tried to squeeze them into my life
and wondered if perhaps mine were more
written in between the lines.

Financially lucky? Well I do have a job.
Excellent taste? Do my sweats from Walmart count as fashion?
Articulate and talented, yes I can accept those.
Ambitious? Well as long as I don't have to work to hard.

Virtuous to me is vague, more depended upon perception
for inside aren't there shadows in us all?
Will agree, don't care for gambling, but even when I did I never win,
think my own year on the Zodiac needs some serious rewrite
or a whole lot of creative interpretation along with an extra blessed foot
to make all the fantastic details true that are claimed for this Bunny Sign.

Where the Spirit Washes

Turquoise skies kissing cleft of vermillion stones
serves as natural fount for cascading flow of effervescent purity
pouring into pool of swirling sudsy enticement.

Eyes behold with rustic awe,
soul feels the caress of heaven's finger
wash over the conscious with their ethereal droplets of inspiration.

Immersed in the harmony soaking into spirit in soothing serenity
world becomes the inviting rush of oneness
to bathe in the tangential tides of a watery ecstasy
until the paradise within feels as peaceful as the landscape.

Four Letter Words

Sandwiched in between
those five letter words,
birth and death
are all the four letter words,
starting with life
then adding love, care,
kind, help and wise,
toss in body, mind and soul,
so what we discover
is they all are things with energy,
action part of their reality
functioning best as verbs
where you are doing something
instead of just be a slug.

So we have to embrace
that as proof of being alive,
just keep moving and reacting,
because once you stop,
can’t act in any way,
dead is your definition
and that is a noun,
don’t you know?

Knights

Somebody’s selling armor over at the mall,
they are giving out big discounts
because courage that doesn’t include
is on back order,
it was sold out to knights
who all went to school to become pilots,
got tired of fighting wars that never end
and risking death for wars
where nobody ever won.

So now the knight schools are all empty
and there are help wanted posters
on all the hospitals and schools,
but no one is asking for an application.

They are all too busy looking for clouds
that can somehow grant wishes
until we can escape this battlefield
where they grow roses for Valentine’s day.

I saw the commercials saying
how passes are being given
for a pardon over every wrong
while we wait for some
new warriors to be found
been offering them forever,
but doesn’t end the evil
from happening over and over again.

Wish there were hearts that would
bleed enough to make the misery wash away,
only it takes a crusader’s transfusion
and no one is asking for shields or swords.

Waiting is the death the strangles every dream
riding that wind of cries
as it gives the wings unto the spirit
soaring in the mind,
escaping from all those promises that are lies
while they never notice you are flying.