My dead voice-- a mockery
Of all that see

A clear vision-- That strides
Above the green sea foam

The muted eye-- an inward glance
That hides among the black roots of forbearence

Disclose arterial reality-- Cains left hand
Lifts the ocean from its smoking earthen cradle

And amasses secret lies-- below the tidal
Weathers embrace

The weekly mad house.
Everyone in the “Ten Items
Or Less” line has more.
Dressed in finery straight from church or shorts
and flip-flops right from the morning hangover.
The week-to-weekers with buggies full of
plastic on plastic.
And an old gray haired guy
somewhere is smiling.
This is a long way from 1962
right Sam?

Exhale.
Long awaited and so in control of .....
All.

I read it.
It reads me right back.

Random music on
but
not
much
else.

His words speak heat.
He gives me language in degrees
that stick to my skin
like humid summer time, beg for some relief soon Jesus please...

Brilliant, blazing, softly crimson
Aglow against the midnight blue horizon

Fingers strong and gentle, dipping into the glory
of the melting twilight sun

Slowly streaking the reddish hue
Across the complexion of the evening sky

What wonderment to the eye
The Ultimate Artist, proving He still can

love me will ye

love me like you've loved none other
mother pop sibling,
yes brother sister,
uncle aunts don't figure in today
the world is full of anxiety
if i may that say…

no nephew, niece has any time for you
even if love you gave them too…

so love me today
like you do love your Lord

be he, human
angel or God….

moon, silk in gold:

ocean's salty tongue
swoons across the sand

" I am in a mental prison
subject to my own threats
Inspect;
the crazy things my mind projects
some take pills to manage the pain
though the never get away because their labeled insane
try to stay true
But how could you,
Because instead of seeing you, people fail to see the real you
A former of the word
Perhaps god has truer conquest
I hope it comes soon
Things becoming more stressed
But don't fear me,
I need you more then ever
Always here to stay

Do your children love you? Not a bit
They just think that you're a nerd or twit
They don't think you have a thought profound
And when you speak they look at you and frown
The things you say are not to there base tastes
The clothes you wear , to them are a disgrace
You are too old for them to call you mummy
They laugh at you and think that you are funny
They ignore you except for when they find
They haven't got a shilling or a dime
then do they pretend that they are nice?

Winter
the old ones' time of death
when sustenence is scarce
when starvation is bountiful
and disease is
rampant

Winter
the artist's time of contrasts
white and black
green and red
bleak and beautiful
serene

Winter
time of extremes
weather's playground
of thaws and blizzards
ice and rain
fractile

Does anyone remember Bunny Blue or Mary Jane and Sniffles
Or maybe Wonder Woman and Brenda Starr
Do you know where they are
Gone from everywhere except my memory

And I remember them well
Brenda's Mystery Man, forever searching the jungles
for the elusive black orchid
It was great to be a kid and live in my mind

Such great adventures with Mary Jane and the litttle mouse
with a hat and a pair of pants
Bunny Blue, who could climb out of the toybox and come alive
When there were no adults around