Someone like my Father
Is the one that made me
60 years ago
With his holy hands
And placed me 60 years ago
In the planet earth
I already got used to the
Planet earth
And also
I am living my life
Here on the planet earth
The hot weather is living me
Lethargic

It is not the amber leaf of autumn,
nor the gilded hues of a sunset
that catches my breath today.
It is the leaves born of bashful seeds
that found an unlikely home,
their green defiance emerging proudly,
smiling at the sky as if they belonged.

There is beauty in their persistence,
in the way they refuse to forget
the weight of joyful renewal.
Even in the ruin of an old pipe,
they seem to say, "look at us".

Dear Diary,
It's been a while.
Still struggling
to find a smile.

The tears have dried.
Sadness erased,
by morbid thoughts
left in its place.

Dear Diary,
It's me again.
I think you're my only friend,
Another's gone; not sorry to say.

You keep the secrets,
Held inside my head.
The voices shout, I can't stop!
Dear Diary, where have you been?

Dear Diary,
the time has come.
Demons rage on; fear not
the flames only hurt when you're unnumb.

Emptiness hangs, a lonesome chamber,
Blank pages devoid of words.
All around nature's resplendent,
It's found it's voice at last.
The owl with it's call of wisdom,
That squirrel with it's quest to survive.
And awesome, as silent gliding of birds,
Crazy gets blocked out of this time.
For anger's no longer in residence,
In a mind that whispers it is done.

Another night at the Kollege Keg,
Shortie Falstaff, our chosen brew.
By bar-time, reason had slipped away —
Bjoraker, Brockman, Kedzior, and me.

Kedzior’s girl had gone to Elroy,
A student teacher, from Madison
He was left alone, restless, aching —
Bjoraker, Brockman, Kedzior, and me.

Beer-pickled, we hatched a crooked plan
To ease Kedzior’s lonely night.
Off to Elroy in the Bjoraker Express!
Bjoraker, Brockman, Kedzior, and me.

For the time being,
I am staying put.
Exercising patience,
within my own small nook.

Everyone is telling me,
the things I ought to do,
but I'll make my own decisions,
and see my own life through.

The problem with decisiveness
is trying to see things through.
So many paths to choose from,
to thine own self be true.

Your own misinformation,
will always follow you.
Sorting everything out,
is the task laid out for you.

(there are places...)

I see myself in blue jean over-alls and shirt in the side yard on our large plot of land. Red white and blue kite in hand, running until the wind takes it. With our darling cat, Gonzo at my side. I swear he was a human in cat's clothing. He seemed to understand everything... The kite, an ambassador of held hopes, flying high above us! You, my lover... captured us with your camera.

It was the privileged ranks of the school,
Juniors and seniors, whose sturdy labor built.
The origin of those timber ties remains unknown,
But their immense girth and weight were felt.
Carefully stacked, they formed a ten-foot square,
A pyre filled with discarded rubber from Route 110.
Vinnie's Auto Parts willingly served our youthful quest.

Silent, empty now ‘neath snow clad hill,
Eyes vacant stare over pastures white while
Masonry crumbles as do grey stone walls.

No roof to bar night creatures shrill
Or owls to nest, white eggs to lay.
Silent, empty now ‘neath snow clad hill.

Stout pillars stand where gates hung tall
But the lions that crouched atop, long gone as
Masonry crumbles as do grey stone walls.

Black Hallows night come for the thrill,
Phantom coaches, lights, guests, wild music to hear.
Silent, empty now ‘neath snow clad hill.

He raised his hand, a solemn vow,
The weight of words upon his brow.
"I do" he said, with steady breath,
To walk the line 'tween life and death.

The flag behind him caught the light,
Its stars and stripes a sacred sight.
Each thread a story, stitched with care,
Of those who stood, those who dared.

No trembling voice, no fleeting glance,
He pledged his soul to circumstance.
To serve, protect, to guard, defend,
A duty sworn that knows no end.