Future Days

fragments of
dissipating clouds
a backdrop
for the fading sun
framing memories
of my hunter days
when I was constantly
on the expansive run
now my path has narrowed
and my step has slowed
I recline on frayed pillows
closing my weary eyes
I remember younger days
When I had my choice
of all the young men
in my pavilion
I was mistress
of all I surveyed
then my eyes fell upon you
and never strayed

out of sync the wheel
squeaks, too many little
brown mice with big mice ears

have chewed my bearings
a sunbeam sits on my
dislocated shoulder

and the cat's in the cradle
sleeping with the whole ball of wax
(what a yarn that is!)

i sharpen my nails and
dig in the posthumous dirt
of my arrival, coming

undone by the light of the silvery
moon, sprinkles melting on cupcakes
and newlyweds

The days pass like mist now,
Swept gone before the sun,
Left fading as it blows to night,
Left fading as it takes a bow;

For I’ve spent too much time here,
Casting pebbles at the sea,
While I’ve known what I dreamt of,
While I’ve known what I fear;

But the silence does haunt me,
The sky shimmering to grey,
Half hoping for the coldness,
Half hoping just to be;

THE DOOR OF MY NIGHTMARE!

Not a whisper can be heard
from my constricted throat
by the image
I behold with my eyes

Oh freedom, save me
from this creature
who's stepped out
of my horror filled nightmare's

Praying for escape
While held in the grip
of a living hell hound
born of fire and hate

Is there a God?
I hear no answer
from above
is my pleading, lost

I am a non believer
now caught in heated fear,
I seek
of him that does not exist

Drugs can aid the ailing
And injure the consumer
Lacking in judgment

It hurts those using to amusing
Making folks yearning for highs
Remains unhealthy and unwise

Those entertaining
In place of sickness and ailments
Yield to deflate influences
Turns souls to evil

Destroying lives and minds

Various ones damaged by deceit
Others remain in Sheol
Waiting for renewed
Opportunities in life

May the spirit go back to God
The amusing drugs can overcome

Morning crawls
the worm of light
with mucus mists
seeping

Dark drama filled
valleys
and predator dreams
slink
pushpointalism
breath stinging
on flowers awaiting
the warmth
the touch
of majesty sun

take me back cracked
wall and mildewed
tub My room where I wallow
where tommorrow shall
come

Skirt so yellow and bright
Eyes blue and wide,
with lips pursed right.
“Where is your joy,” she sighed?

Cotton showing years of wear
still flows yellow, and bright.
Her lean body craves to share
him hard and yielding tonight.

After she threw the bridal wreath
their joy spilled like carpenter’s glue.
No longer did they sample from beneath
yellow skirt and sweater taut and blue.

When I chance to go afield
to harvest the wild places' yield
of the myriad sights and sounds
which in this sylvan spot abounds

Matters not how far I stray
once it comes the end of day
like an old trained milking cow
I know where I must head to now

To the warm hearth of my home
at the finish of the long day's roam
and the ever young girl I call wife
with whom I've shared most of my life

Half the world is starving
and look at Suri Cruise -
a four million dollar wardrobe,
and a hundred pairs of shoes.
At nearly five she has everything
and throws a tantrum if refused,
Tom and Katie you’re too foolish.
You should be ashamed of yourselves.

my logic in a tartan knapsack of my
scientific mind,
i searched until i found who
was who, looking for the
essence that is me
behind the pontifications of the
ego that would be mine

i traveled every well-known path
worn and frayed around the edges
until i was smooth as a
stone in the river of my being,
i trudged the meanings of what it means
to be until
immersed with every shade of green
in the constancy of my open heart
echoing pineapple winds of change