THE STICK

I saw a stick strong and bold
fall to this world
from a midnight sky.
it pierced the earth
with a sigh
and cast shadows twisted and worn
in the light of a pale moon.

I touched it to see
If this were the miracle
to set me free.

Suddenly
t became a livng thing
wrapped itself around
me like a string.

Now I cast shadows
twisted and worn
in the light of sun
and dark of moon

We all live in the midst of uncertainty
and all we can ever and always say is
that change is the heartbeat of each moment,
what will be another moment’s gift
none know it

the good moment turns into a bad volley
absurd at times
become incidents incredible
and
good sours fear of the unknown
on ones countenance does show
as if it was some uncertain hour,
as life flows like a river of no return…

good and bad both can upturn
into passages of time unknown…

Everyone look,
A good man is passing,
Please stand,
And believe me when I say,
A good man is passing,
He didn’t ask for much,
But we did,
So please watch as he passes,
And Listen to what he has to say,
It may be the last time he speaks his mind,
I see the killer at the end of the road,
We may not have much time,
To say our goodbyes,
I wish I knew him better,
Stand,
A good man is passing.

Charade

Is there death after life,
will we be free from strife
or open some unknown door?
Will rest come to me,
can death set me free
to rest upon a new shore?

Is there death after life,
or some wicked device
designed to cause us more pain?
Is the cycle complete
with sleep our retreat,
will sorrow or happiness reign?

Is there death after life,
cessation of light,
will we walk upon streets of gold?
Must we lie in our grave
unless we are saved
and never the wonders behold?

Hello, Holy Father
I have been trying to get in touch
Your secretary said you are booked
For the next millennium

It must be a drag being Immortal
A leader of religion and all
Do you have a hotline
For emergency prayers
You should charge for the dumb ones,
Just some business advice you might consider

I must sound so blasphemous
Not believing in prayers
Even though I truly would like to chat

crepuscule
here comes the light
slipping from your fingers
like a bolt of rotten satin

your soul lingering
like silverware on chains
your ways are crawling
night is falling

and she will come to you
her thrust within the chest
like a cry in the hidden room
tear stain lush

hush hush
your heart shall rust

Soft
cool touch of lust
Inviting
shivers of recognition
Beyond
mortal comprehension
Your smell
energy that charges my soul
Sweet
taste of neck to lips
Liquid
embrace of whole
Never
leave me
Your ghost
leaves me pleading
Rush
bids me play
Stay...

Tanka: # 1
A ghastly screw up
The blue flashing behind me
A dreaded ticket 
Twenty five years clean record
Down the drain one split minute

Tanka: #2
Tell tale smell of death
Secrets, lies, deceit finds light
Troubled sea rises
Pains from past immoral acts
Roll back stone thus uncover

Tanka: # 3
Brain freeze like a rock
Won't allow decisiveness 
Builds stress when I try 
A blinding force guides my thought
When making clear decisions  

How terrifying it is to see

yourself decay

day by day

and lose reason's sanity

How frightened is the soul.

How sick the heart

when we must face

the unknown.

How lonely is this journey

we all must endure alone.

morning
barefoot
linoleum
screeching
reaching
for a bowl
toking
'til crispy
crash
landing
in a rocking chair
to ponder on
...flowers
why not
I dare
who cares
I'm off the grid
cast anew
pots and pans
bullet proof
iron age
mugs and jugs
a leaky roof
cleans the rugs
broken latch
been like that
it'sokay
ai'no thugs

begonias!

I'll whack her a batch
for lunch