Fair Warning

I admit it
I put Grandma to rest a long time ago
But it's still hard  

Talking to Dad
And hearing sixty-three years of love just breaking
His voice shaking, edgy 
My training kicks in
Just listening, keeping the edge off, tears down tight
Dad knows it too

He's not hiding
Says he "feels like shit... no reason to hide it now."
He's right, it'll hit me soon.
It always does
When I see the terrible job the undertaker tries
It's not his fault

It'll remind me that I can let go
Of the shell that clung so long when her mind let go
It's not her fault either
 

The Walking Wounded

He steps down off the curb and waits
For traffic flowing by
His pant leg folds unevenly
He pauses with a sigh
Nothing bends from hip to foot
A wound from years gone by

His gait is slow and even toned
The traffic doesn't yield
Self assured and steady goes
He walked the field
In Vietnam, perhaps Korea,
The wounded 's human shield

Tended now, the medic's wound,
By younger hands at home  
In grateful payment of
A phantom limb that's gone

How I Drink It.

I love coffee shops and greasy-spoons
Where I can belly-up to the bar
To drink my brew

With classic rock or obscure beats 
Rumbling through my brain  
Keeping time with the ink I spew

Don't snap your fingers when I walk in
Don't ask me what I want
It's me you're pouring to 

Just serve it hot and black in a ceramic mug
And put the next one in a paper cup
For me to breeze on out and bid adieu

Smears on the Screen

How do you write tears of joy?
The paper used to soak them up,
But now it splats and smears
When I blubber on the screen.

So here it goes what may;
I got the job I wanted today! 

Morning Hope

She sniffs my cup
A little apprehensively
Wanting mingled apple spices
Two sniffs
She wrinkles up her nose
The acrid scent of coffee
Black
Wasn't what she wanted
Directives given
I will try again
She laughs  
"You're fired, till it's right"

Three o'clock blues at ten

the house is cold but the fire's hot
for my workin' woman who is not
here with me and rollin' rounds
while the blues are playin' mournful sounds
through my speakers, in my head
got me down! waitin' in my bed

Friday's verdict comin' soon
either way, today,
I drink deeply from the cup
of three o'clock blues at ten
BB's keepin' me afloat
and Clapton feeds me from within

Breath (draft 2)

I cradle your head in my arms
Thanking God I hold you

Your hair smells sweat
I nuzzle in and drift
 
Some day our oath will have ended
The sweet and bitter pill

The Lord's own time 
His will be done

I hold you close
And work on now
Trying not think about then
The loneliness for a job well done

Your head rests on my chest
I hear your breath come in and out
I match it just because I can
And drift back into dream

Lice!

They do not die
From natural causes,
Organic rinses,
Or mayonnaise washes.

They do not fly
From child to child.
They do not care
If you wash your hair.

Other children
Are not hinderin'
With their louse
Your child's shot at the White House.  
 
Breath.
Don't curse.

Respectfully Yours,
The School Nurse

Gazuntite!

If you have to

cough or sneeze,

Make sure it's in
    your elbow please.

 

A View

To dangle my feet above the street
With a view of the passers by
Would be for me heaven at about seven
When the rays of the sun come out
The warm wind blow, the bright sun glow  
The rats as they scurry around
The goal that teases all of these meices
Is lost as I look about

I Shut My Mouth

I sit and read
   I write and think
   You fill me as I piss in ink

The crack of the wood
    Beneath my feet
    Beneath my pen in metered ink 

The trees outside begin to sway
    They seem to say in rustling leaves
    "You are arrayed as one of these."

What name have you for me?

Let me see Your hand!
Let me feel Your side!
Let me know know You're here,

Not the whisper in the wind.

I tell you-
Tear the mountains!
Shatter the rock!
Earthquake and fire!

Ask me why I'm here!

I stand braced like a man,
I wait your questions.
I will answer your voice.

Do not break my upraised arm!
It shakes at you!

I will wrestle you.
I will grapple you and not let go.
I will not yeild my foot to slip till morning falls.

Yet...

You've wretched my hip.
   I canont stand.
You took my job.
   I have to wait.
My interviews are on deaf ears.
   I cannot speak.

The Shakes

It starts
Like my eyes begin to recede
Stiff neck
When I wake up  at 3am
Muscle weakness
A slight tremor
Seems to get worse
In a few days
I can't sleep
I can't love
I can't stop
Until I get the closing hours right
The SSRI calms them down
I wonder when they won't go away

Exuberant love

Red followed white
And freaked me out
A sleepless night
Followed next day by cautious tests
The fun of exuberant love 

Crude Past Tenses

If thought is the past of think,
Than what is the past of tweet?
Think of thought and not of tweet,
Not of ..., but of meat.

Let Mortality Settle In

One thing I hate
Are the statements we make
When a loved one "shuffles off this mortal coil,"
As if we cannot pause
And let mortality settle in
The Six by Six by Four foot hole
We lay it in. 

I know she'll be back

I miss her with the ferocity of a rhinoceros
Anything else is preposterous
I miss us
 

Dirt and Salt

It's been a long time
Since I saw dirt run down the drain
And tasted salt on my lips
As the water washed me

It's been a long time
Since I helped a friend
Dig a hole, a ditch, and use my chains
To free the roots of bitterness

It's been a while
Since I could say,
To hell with good neighbors and their fences
 I've got love to mend.   

Fireflies

There's always time for fireflies
Purple shirt, short skirt, twirling with the wings
Barefoot, running in the wet grass
Evening sun behind the trees
Crickets chirping, birds still singing
All to say, "fun has yet to stop"

My Nephew's Loss

To speak:

My body is shaking
With tears and sorrow
For the boy
Who's core is shaken
By the news
A pillar gone
His mother's mother in glory.

Denial of death,
Against refuted immortality
Anger at powers, Self, Parents, and God
For refuted omnipotence as seen from the here and now
His road is hard and unimaginable
A crossroads to strength and scarring

Yet God is good
Though evil works
To crumble and destroy
His grace comes from those around us
And in His still soft voice
Within our soul

To pray:

Have mercy on the boy
And protect him in your wings
Lord Send your angels to minister to his needs
And may he feel Your love and assurance
The power and omnipotence
Of the life to come
The power of Your triumph over death, Amen.

Prosperity Theology Proposterosity

You can't claim a seed
That wasn't yours
It was a gift to start with
Trusted with
You reap what you did not sow
You sow what you may not reap
Do not claim prosperity
You may crumble when you suffer

8th grade dance

They come alive
When someone else begins
They circle in their group of friends
Never mixing
Parallel play
Showing off and hiding
Like breathing in and out
Testing waters and letting go
Seeing the boat is safe
Finding themselves
Within the danger of the group.

It rhymes!

For those of you inclined
To elevate your mind
And trot out Greek while giving sermons
And Aramaic for the learned(s):
Latin makes me feel smart, pēditum!

I hope

Her
Patience
Wearing thin
I was not nice
I was down right mean
How many times will she
Accept apologies from me

One more at least, I hope

Dead and Living

It rises from the heat below
And throws its carbon to the wind
Child of a flame's desire
For the fuel of fallen limbs
Taken from the living forest
The dead now burning bright within
The body warming body of my kin

John Barker

No shame or doubt
For there is none in that place
Not looking down like heathen kings
But dancing in the isles and streets of gold
And singing praise more fully than he dreamed
And life more raw and beautiful then the veil here on earth

Good morning

Coffee in my hand
And Kipling in my pocket
Gospel in my ears
And a breeze is blowing in

Steps

Down the center isle she'd only walked
I carried her
With seven other men

Up with her dad
At birth, to wed,
And back with Grandad
And now with us.

Down the steps she never took,
We carried her again:
Just like her dad when life began.

With candles, vows, and separation-
Dedicated, married, and now deceased-
She finished what they started.
The eight of us attest to that.

Inside a car she never drove,
We placed her as gently as we could:
The rollers made it smooth.
I said goodbye before I let her go.

Followed by a line of cars and hearts
That stretched back eighty years or more
She would have fussed,
Although she thought it right to do.

Three men await her at the gate,
And two have walked that path before.

Bitterness

Some say superman is out there,
But I just saw him fall
Not to Lex Luther or Miss Lane
But to the noisy few
Who turned their back on him
And kicked him to the curb
Pretending, speaking for us all

She's on her way

She's on her way
To trip the light fantastic
With the older man
Who swept her heart away
Over sixty years ago

With barn dances and bright flowers
She was his sunshine
And then he went away
Still singing their sweet song

His sunshine, his only sunshine
Had waited for this day
With nights of lonely patience

No one could come between.

The task your feet are on

There is a God
And some are wrong
And none can love too much
Three things that make the world go round
And add the human touch

When all is dark
or, worse yet,
When shadows obscure the view
These three things your path will set
Past midnight dark and day anew

Forget your fear
Regrets, laments
And throw aside your crutch
For none of it will matter soon
All hindrance aside, your feet must rush

To finish well with crown and cup
The task your feet are on

God Damn!

God damn, I miss him
He sips wine, but I know his jokes
We can sit and talk and be at ease
God damn, I miss his face
Twenty with and thirteen apart
The other one is with the wind
God damn, I miss my friend
We disagree, but in his core
He stands on what we can agree

Past Desperation

Have you ever thought
That the only way
You would be allowed to rest
And decompress from the day
Would be to steer for the lights
Up the road a way
And find a bed in the ICU
Where your visitors would say
With time and pity in their voice
"It's not his fault he cannot work, or go to school today."

It took me fourteen sessions
Life talks and lessons
To be able to ask it that way
And to admit
The stress, it hurt

...and now my wife is headed that way.

Zzzzz

Oh the late night
Thoughts of random
Things that go bump
In the night
In the wallet
Anything but sleep.

Millstone Threatened

She's only four,
But still I'm wondering:
Am I holding her back
From the Spirit's power
Because I think she's young.

Ghandi

Strong man from India
He knew of God
Of the greatest of these
With the least of these
He talked with God
And put the "Christians" to shame
The hollow gongs
Could not withstand the Truth of Love
Melchizedek of India

In the Trenches

Whistling by and by
The bullets begin to whisper
Closer to my eardrum
Than I would like

It's gonna happen
It'll tear my flesh wide open
And split my head in two
Two halves already fighting

He lives and speaks and breaths,
But not as loud as bullets
Whizzing by my ear
The sniper's getting closer to my heart

I want to hear the breath
The Son of Man beside me
In the trenches of my life
Instead of sniper's Hell inside me

My Gratification (Will it Hurt)

1. I live on crisis
(Haven't had one in a while)
Beliefs are floating
Waiting for their anchorage
To dig in

2. Crisis demands answers
Right or wrong
The choice is timed
And judged quickly
Gratification comes

3. I am demanding
And require
The answer of others
For gratification
Quickly

4. Whose skin
Does my anchor cling to
And will it hurt
If it digs deep or
Scratches passing

Angel

Beautifully strong
Wonderfully soft
Artfully witty
She is amazing... and my wife.

Wailen's First Talk

"With God all things are possible"
The young on-fire preacher said
The problem with the miricals
Is what's goin' on in your head

It's not that He can't do them, no
It is not that he lacks the will
It's your lack of faith and doubting
That keep his mighty God hands still

He quoted books in Old and New
He referenced anthropology
But nothing hit me quite as hard
As when he pointed at himself... for all to see!

He was a doubter just like me.

But in the darkest moment when
Our faith, once rock, begins to sway
And water swamps the raft we're in
We step out of the boat and pray

...

Dancing Hard

We looked on her in sunshine
They laid her down in rain
Her body dark with toxins
Her face was aged by pain

But persistent visions
Revealed her truly

Her Lord lifting up wings
Not of angels, but of joy, strength
Purple robes of majesty on her brings
Full length and dancing hard

Earth in View

She loves the clouds
Sticking her neck into the sky
And shooting off to the second star on the right
She's only nineteen and nothing says loving
Like a good-looking Italian man
Arrogant, confident, and mysterious
She's "lucky" when he calls

Her momma pulls her ankle
Drags her to the ground
And wants her head in the sand
Feet on the ground
Why is it either clouds or ground
Can any middle air exist
Or is her caution not so tall

One can fly
If you know where the ground is
The horizon is the earth in view
Like Deadilous and Icharus
Years show the middle path
With eyes that know the scars
Of flying in the clouds and loosing sight of grounding

Anticipated Homecoming

I miss her voice
Not from a phone, but right in front of me
Alto vibrato in my ear

I miss her face
I'm tired of looking at pictures
I like the subtle play of her skin

I miss her touch
Her soft sure grasp and exciting warm kiss
Someone who knows how I react

I miss my friend
She'll be on the 4AM train and I'll
Be waiting anxiously at home

For her return of me

Pity

Herself
Buried
Inside-out

And smothered
Cannot sit

Or laying
Cannot breath

Dying from
The self outside her

She is too much
We are too late

I see her
Self killing
Perhaps already dead

I wonder...
I pity her...

Listen Well

His face fell as he got up and walked in front of silent waiting:
Broke the news of his departing, in his face was grieving wailing.
As he spoke, his hands were wringing
What, to him, was death's bell sounding.

But funeral bells don't sound so sweet,
Just empty clang and shuffling feet
Of mourners passing by
A stiff now wrapped in suit and tie.

No, the bell he rang was perhaps
A tad too high a key for taps.
He rang a reveille and morning call
For yet another day for all

So, when you think the bells are tolling,
Perhaps they ring a joyful peeling.

I wait

Cool breeze that
Issues forth from
Frosty lips
Refreshes, pleases, and caresses

My lips burn with fire
Burn the air around them
Hot vacuum of the thunder clap
In ears around me

I am become the double edged sword of the tongue

Adept at being loud
I talk. I charm. I ease

But it is time
To sheath the sword and listen

The time for vulnerable peace
On my face before You

So now I wait
In unfamiliar silent frailty
To see if

You
are my faith
You
are my life
You
are my job, my hope, my love

Do not sleep
Do not slumber
Do not let my foot slip
On the sword
I will fall on it without You

Of your own accord

I keep looking for the door
Not for going out, no
For coming in

I am here and wait
In powerful anticipation
Of the moment I see you

Yes, you may
Still come

Not to see me
But to come and be
Here
With me, yet
With more than me

We wait for you
To come and be

What you were
Just as you are
What you will be
Is enough

Brady

Pushing my pawns up the row
Waiting for mistakes
Seems we've played this game before

Waiting

To play dead
Is fine sometime
Instead of living
Mine I'd rather
Sing the blues
Waiting for some better shoes

Caught

Natural eaters
The mouse and the shrew
One in a trap
The other in glue

Grounded

The ugly seed
Reaching upward
About to break
The top soil

Roots extending
Downward looking
Osmosis flow
Dirty mineral wealth

The sky has light
Ethereal
Quantum food source
Clean energy

But 'till the leaves
Break from the ground
The earth was made
As life support

Manly Breakfast

6AM and the kitchen's quiet
Whistling as I start the day
Norm walks in and grabs the bacon
Soon the meat is on its way

Later Gary ambles in, checks his watch,
Decides to stay
Hash browns sizzle on the griddle
With his easy going way

Randal is the last to show
Waiting, waiting, last to go
Making eggs, their turn arriving,
Worth the wait, the men were starving

A Veil

Thankful for stable ground
I weep for the child
Covered with a cardboard box
Not for cover, but as a veil

The Rocks are Silent

As David danced before the ark,
So do they, with
Twirling flair and dizzy abandonment.
Arms are raised and some on the floor
Break-dancing hard
Because they can;
Children before the Lord.
His table sings with joy!

Fun

Copper Abraham
Tucked away
With emergency contingency
Waiting for my eyes
To see him
I am the only one who knows where
He sits awakened
To my joy
And idiotic pleasure at the
Secret

Sins of the Father

In the basement, gone for hours
Nose in book and writing hard
Working second
Seldom seeing, seldom seen
By children, wife
At outside functions, meetings, life
Passed him by and so did they
The son now does the same

Young Man Searching

I pissed off a dad today
His son's mouth was in the way
With words and actions touching down
That, when in my face, were not found
To be helpful, prudent, or productive
For the place for him I'd thought of
He has questions, anger, searching
For acceptance, even yearning
For some answers, deftly handled
For a mentor, men who know him

Hindering Operation

Two-by-six sits squarely in my ocular socket
Sticks out quite a ways
Seems to hinder operations
On the eyes of my close friends
Something scary in the sight of non-sight
Comin' at ya nice and close.

Don't misunderstand
I can see the bruises left by others
On the temples of your head
But careful approach and understanding
Still hits and wounds you
Like a two-by six up-side the head.

Fever Streptococci

Before the Sulfa craze, 1937,
How did any child
Make it past eleven?

Streptococcus,
Meningitis,
Everything, it seems, could kill us.

Playing tennis,
Coolidge' son died
Of the menace

Now I have my
Own full case of
Fever streptococci.

With ten days of penicillin,
I'll be feeling fine and chillin'.

Coffee

Second state of matter
Energized with baser states
Brown solid, liquid life

Physical Healing

Spiritual healing, the cop-out.
Physical healing is a need!
The hucksters make a show of it
With hands a flying, people falling.
Why do we, the true, not see it;
Cancer gone, eyes healed, ears opened wide!
Don't tell me about her soul, I want to see her healed!
Thomas got to touch His HEALED wounds. Why not she?

Shows

Thirty-two inch window
Shows her reality
In flickered frames
Too fast for her to see
Her view of life restricted
To channels six, and twelve, and three

Another

May I realize Your great love
Eternal life bought at a price
At Another's expense I live

May I accept it as my own
The cost for me deemed adaquate
I am worthy only through Him

May I demonstrate it to all
Their worth is like my own
I am herald of Another

My Love

You love me hard, you love me right
You love me in spite
Of my acknowledgment of you

Your ways and tender rock hard manner
Thoughtful planner
Put my forgetful ways to shame

It's all too much for a man
Trying, if he can,
To love you as he should

Lord knows, mine 'll never measure up
To your output, but still, I hope,
The little gestures count

Threes

Micheal Jackson
Farrah Fawcett
Ed McMahon, Hmmm...

Seven sons of Sceva

I weep for the boy in Connecticut
Seven sons of Sceva
Have left their mark on him
Did Jesus need to scream and shout
In total disregard
To safety, faith, and love

The boy is in distress
His mind and body had enough and vomits in response
The demons screaming in the ears
Of those still standing
Round the boy
The mob with millstones round their necks

How many times did Jesus say
To demons, "you get out"
He said it once and they obeyed
What lack of faith these "men" display
To shout and shout and shout
Not a mustard-seed in them all

What scares and angers me the most
What truly makes me boil
What keeps me up tonight
Keeps my pen to paper
Is the total lack of love and grousome advertisment
Makes you wonder who we're fighting

Room 39

More than foot pain (Right hip fractured and stitches on the brow)

More than her mind could bare (Night time crazy's in the corner talkin', talkin', talkin')

What lit her eye with fear (Tied tight for what the pills can't do)

Was loneliness and three grown sons who simply didn't care.

Draw!

Man in suspenders
Comb-over graying
Light blue polo shirt
Slight limp in the leg
Lump in the top back

Quick and piercing whit
Fast to blame draw
Wants it done today
Why not yesterday
Indignant scowling

Point and shoot the quick smile

1 'n 3

Start a singin'
Hands a raise'n
Clap'n on the 1 'n 3
Jesus hear ya
Come and get ya
In that sweet, sweet melody

Love Note

Amore, Αγάπη, Liebe, or Love
They all fail to adequately
Convey the way you move
In my soul, in my life, Beauty

Go to Hell

He didn't come to save the pharasies
He didn't come to heal the well
He came to save both you and me
... And let the "good" ones go to Hell

Countdown to Final Flight

four emails
three calls home
two days
one man who misses his wife and kids

Sometimes

Talk to walls
'Cause sometimes
You gotta love 'em
Without them lovin' you

Almond Sweetly

Prolonged cynicism rots well
Turning arsenic almond sweetly
All that brushes words, thought, and writing
With the happy death bomb rotting

Garçon de Quatre Ans

His grin
Is gone, replaced
With open horror
Bleeding in
The hole that was his face

His mother
Bleeds next door
Eyes open wide to the wall
Still seeing medics pick
Her son up off the grass

Her arms
Now forming scars
Were not enough
To wrench life from its jaws
It tore him ear from ear

Tesla and My Wood Stove

Tesla had a good idea
Send particles jumping on the wires
Two steps forward, one step back
From Niagara to my doorstep
Saving me from soot
And the smoking piece of shit wood stove in my basement!

Did you hear?

Tents are out, way out, this year.
The canvas trades need not apply
For cushy jobs at crystal pulpits.

Remebered Breath

Son of dust
Walk the dirt in bare feet
Powdered proof of past sins covering your toes
Your father's father's father in contact with your skin
Reminding you of the immortality and circular resurrection of the body
But not the soul

Son of dust!
Recount the varied histories within your own two feet
The double helixed chains that bind you to the earthen bodies sifting by
Say to Me, "I am the product of my heritage and nothing now can save me."
Say to Me, "I am all mud and dust-to-bones!"
But not your soul!

Son of dust
Remember breath that first gave life to clay and dirt
Your father's father's father's breath still resonates within your lungs
Gives life from life, from life to you, and those whose breath is yet to come
I am the source of breath-of-breath from dust to dust and life to life
And of your soul

Son of dust you have begun, but son of God you'll be.

Anticipation

Sunshine water on the window
Lapping at the dirt and grime.
Indoor typing, submarining,
Wanting to go jumping, wading.

Jacob's Angel

Years spent wrestling Jacob's angel!
"Talk to me, you silent bastard!"

Three o'clock Boy o.d.'s on drugs;
You wake my dreaming, "pray now and witness!"

Years of silence!
"Let me hear you!"

Weeping Doctor at a mirror;
You tell me dreaming, "do as I told you!"

Wrestling still!
"Until you bless me!"

Twelve o'clock man dances with joy;
You whisper waking, "death is coming."

Attained and hurting.
"Please, no more."

A Warning

take a tiger by the tail
pull it hard and hear it wail
round it comes and sees you standing
clears up all misunderstanding

Uneasy Premonition

Task master whips the hide off mine
Reminding me of visions past
Unacted on for fear of death
His... acts joyous and elated
Over the top and confident
His body ended on the ground
First in prayer, then with God.

The Changling

ate together, conversation
fish and chips, 'bout this and that
and mountain dew, the German language
buttered veggies, lederhosen
wiped the mouth, glad to see ya
and walked away. 'nough said.

ate together, conversation
diet soda, new breasts
fruit and water, grow the hair out
crystal light, a touch of makeup
napkin corners, "catch up honey"
sauntered out. a wave goodbye.

Solitude (v2)

White walls washed with plain intentions
Small box pushes colored pictures
No sound from the box or bed

White noise from the outside chatter
Coded colors from the ceiling
Other voices, not for her

White face stuck with no expression
Voiceless visage in the sheets
Colors may be in her mind

Generations

When I was four, a generation died
Chips and gifts are all I remember of him.
The stale room of old carpet, old TV, old glasses, older man

At thirty, the next generation died
Cards and stories are what I remember
The fair, cartoons, and weeks of time with older man

The next one's Dad, how much more time
On his knee, in his arms, soaking up time with an older man
Taught by, loved by, and guided by an older man

God willing, when my turn comes in time
Cards, stories, knees, laps, arms and time with me, an older man,
Will be remembered by generations whose time is yet to come and yet to be.

silent noise

decorative ears wants somthing to sleep
much noise from the one in the corner
thoughts are too slow from imperfect mouth
the fingers that do all the talking
moving too fast for decrative ears
confined to the sheets that are binding

curly haired girl

her eyes
the only things that sing
louder than her voice
which peals down the hallway
after her
footsteps die away
the walls return
incandescent normalcy
illuminating reality
peeling back fantasy
her laughter heals heartache
not her mother's cancer.

Lexi

her new word is sideways vision
gestered with a wild hand sign
proudest of the sideways glances
eyes are flashing with aheivment

face is flush with icey covered
scarf that barley hides her joyous
words from tumbling over frozen
lips that gush forth sledding danger

loss of time is quickly made up
on the floor and playing horses
dad is here and good for climbing
let's play cars while sipping tea

Karis

Rubies crown her head
Gently flowing down
Alabaster skin
Touching setting off
Saphires on her face

Shooter

He bleeds on me, over the desk
his arm is fresh from violence,
self-inflicted self-righteousness
now flowing from him, mouth and body
spewing anger, onto my desk,
onto my skin, into my ears
his rantings blurred into a run
on sentence, now he turns and walks away
mumbling something loud, the blood
now dripping on the floor, it splats
and smacks his shoe and stains his shirt,
a hand is back right at my nose,
i smell soiled comprehension
in his voiceless plea for "help me,"
a dangerous desperation,
fails to stop my inner need
to shut him up and clean his mess,
to cleanse my arm, to cleanse my soul
from the blood he spills next weekend,
more than just his own.

Nothing too big

I hesitate...
to ask for what?
A miracle
Of any size,
A smile, hope
Of consequence.
A lack of trust
For easy things,
Nothing too big
Like pigs that fly,
A mother well,
A child healed.
I hesitate
To ask for what?
The little things
'Cause I can't see
God doing them...
Especially for me.

Second Time 'Round

No more panic, no sleeplesness
No "how-do-I-even-begin"
I've done this once, I've got it down
I know what to expect... so why am I
Anxiously nervously hesitent
To dive back into what I've known
My name is "dad"
No matter who calls on me the
Second time 'round

Soot

Cold winter nights warmed by the sweat of summer days
That lingers on my cloths, but mostly in my hair
The musty smell of soot and oily blackness from the pipe
Has stained my fingers and my face
Fire cooled, stainless steel filtered, wood juice
I rub it through my hair completely satisfied and watch it drip
Onto the stove
Like vapor-rub it opens up my nose and settles in my chest
I contemplate the joy no cubicle could bring

What it brings

October comes and brings with it
Thoughts of pennents, plasticed windows;
Thrill of moment, thoughts of winter;
Popping viens and whithered wallet;
Stress on screen and worry at home.

Quiet Man (part3)

His eyes are still
But moving back
And seeing things as they once were,
His daughter young again.
The lack of years show in her eyes,
Unbridled joy and happiness
Flow from her hands onto his skin,
Her arms wrapped 'round
His neck so tight he'd hardly breath
If breath were on his mind,
But all he knows is what she knows
The joy of "daddy's home!"

Quiet Man (part2)

The ring on his left hand
Has been their for a while.
A simple band of gold
Shines like it's never gone
A day without a little work
To keep it in its prime.
A smile here and there
Escapes his lips while on
The phone still polishing his ring
With kind soft words of love.
Contentment's on the other end
Still polishing her ring.

Quiet Man

His form is slightly gaunt.
His hair is all but gone.
His eyes are grey, but still
Give off a spark of blue.
His hands are brown with age,
And spots show now on top
Of muscles in decline.
A flanel shirt hangs by
His desk and keeps him warm
When things get cold, but in
His eyes, his greying eyes,
You see that spark of blue.

Tell the Dirty Jokes (r2)

(the tax collector prays out loud)

Too articulate
For the simple minded fool
You all sit and fart

Ideas covered
In the wrapping paper of
Academia,
Expelling noxious
Symphonies as your haughty
Neck holes suck the air.

Damn it! Speak it through
As it really is in life.
Spare me pretentious
White-washed lyric lies,
The fantacy of "polite,"
And sit in the mud.

Do not be too big
To dance in the sty of man.
Tell the dirty jokes;
Drink a few wrong things;
And never forget ladies
Need a warm bed too.

Sleep (part3)

Dry bones from dust, and flesh from bones,
The sinews come, and sockets form,
The carriages of carrion are now forming
My soulless shell.

It is pulled from the grasping ground,
Most unwillingly it hovers
For a moment, only slightly
Hesitating, masquerading
As a puppet of the earthen.

Far from sealing the Casket of my Soul, you revive me.

Pulling me directly from her,
Muscles twitching from the effort,
Breaking bones in my own fingers
To loose the grasp I have on death.

Begin the sweet seduction of my wandered soul.
Entice the life back to this form.
Let joy, forgotten, move within
My fallen members with delight.

Pissing on the wall

It reaches out with shiny wings,
That yellow arch of social grace
Which hits the wall and scatters light,
Showers the ears with joyous song
Played by the middle finger who
Resents the clothes we wear for cover,
We are ashamed/afraid of it.

If only we could come to terms,
Social graces and the finger,
To find a way to learn with joy,
With moderation and a zeal,
What God design the pleasures for;
Not just for writing on the wall.