Saturday, December 17, 2011

Election Year

Coke or Pepsi?
Make your choice.
Don’t waste your vote,
you have a voice.

this year will be
a great election
Don’t tell me
there’s no selection.

the shelves are full
the aisles are packed
from floor to ceiling
varieties stacked

Pepsi in bottles
Coke in cans
So many choices
just two brands

look at all
the different sizes
all tastes the same
so no surprises

What’s that you say
you don’t like cola.
Are you a
tree-hugging, granola?

you’ll learn to like it
wait and see
it’s the sweet taste
of democracy

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Invisible People on the Benches

   One week at the farmers market I noticed one of the invisible people. I don’t know what made me notice the man sitting behind the bushes where we set up our pop-up tent to sell cheese, but I did notice. He had a small two-wheeled cart filled with some worldly possessions, some cans and bottles, a sweatshirt, a baseball cap, a yellow hard hat and a walking stick. He sat there just soaking up the early morning sun to help mitigate the effects of the damp cool morning.

   I finished setting up the booth and talked to a few people, made a sale, then looked back to the bushes. The man was gone, he was invisible again.

   The following Saturday I was looking for the invisible man in the bushes. He wasn’t there, but as I was setting up I looked across the street and there I saw him walking toward the park. I recognized the yellow hard hat. I continued to set up and when I looked up I saw another of the invisible people sitting on the bench across from our spot. This time it was a woman holding an insulated coffee mug. She had a cart also. Her cart contained a collection of items all stacked and wrapped in plastic bags. It was hard to differentiate the many shapes  but everything was all wrapped up to protect them from the elements.

   After that I started looking for the invisible people. I started to notice more and more of them each week. They started to become regular fixtures and started to lose their invisibility. Some moved around searching the trash cans for cans and bottles. Others staked out a small plot of turf in an out-of the way part of the park  or on a little used bench. I started to see the same people each week and even knew where to look to possibly find a particular person.

   There was a older African American man who always sat on the bench diagonally across from our space. He always showed up about an hour and a half after the market started and always came from the direction of the railroad yard. He also pushed a two wheeled cart and in his cart was a sweater, a bottle of water and a few books. I think he picked that bench because of its proximity to the weekly entertainment that the market usually provided. He seemed to enjoy the music although he never talked to anyone and seldom looked up. He wore a pair of worn black leather shoes and that’s were he eyes always seemed to be focused.

   This particular Saturday as he was sitting there looking down at his shoes as a woman walked by leading a dog on a leash. It was a slow day and I was just sort of people watching. He noticed the dog and came to life.

   “Can I pet you’re dog?,” he blurted out.

Looking a little startled she said , “ I guess it would be okay.,” and she hesitantly moved towards him.

   “He’s a beautiful dog,” he said, “Is he registered?”

   “Yes,” she replied.

   “Black and Tan Coonhound,” he continued, “that’s my favorite breed of dog.”

   Then he proceeded to talk at length about the breed and their characteristics. He talked to the woman for quite a while all the time slowly petting the dog. He thanked the woman, gave the dog a final pat on the shoulder and she continued on her way making the rounds at the market.

   After she was well out of sight I went back  to paying attention to my own affairs when I heard someone crying uncontrollably. I looked over and the  elderly black man was sobbing .

   He noticed me looking over at him and said ,“I haven’t touched a Black and Tan since I was ten years old,” then went back to looking down at his shoes.

   He was no longer invisible.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Dollar Store Poems

not every poem is elegant
not every one’s a gem
may not even be relevant
but how can I condemn

if words are weak
or meter’s wrong
in crazy speak
it drags along

is poetry just for the rich
to read and pick apart and bitch
or is it also for us fools
who never went to high-priced schools

nor learned the rules made way back when
by so called educated men
men you’d think could have done better
than to start a word with a silent letter

are the thoughts less viable
’cuz the words are unreliable
is the message we are selling
watered down because of spelling

will it affect my disposition
to end a sentence with a preposition
I think that I’m okay with that
but wondering where you all are at

Friday, December 2, 2011

Enjoy the View

There’s more to her than meets the eye,
she’s more than just a pretty face
she’s …, um…
Actually, there is nothing more to her than that.
What you see is what you get.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011


I rub your back, I stroke your hair
pretend to listen, pretend to care

you fake a headache, pretend to weep
pretend to quickly fall asleep

I pretend it doesn’t bother me
I go downstairs and watch TV

Thursday, November 24, 2011

With Wooden Bats

we all wore simple baseball hats
and played the game with wooden bats
with old worn sneakers tied in knots
just pick-up teams in back yard lots

gloves made out of oiled leather
rawhide laces held together
and even if they didn’t fit
we somehow made the best of it

home plate, a square drawn in the dirt
first base was someone’s extra shirt
we hit the ball and ran the bases
with dirty hands and sweaty faces

we taught the young kids how to play
made lifelong friends along the way
those many days in summer fields
of playing ball ‘til daylight yields

Monday, November 14, 2011

Late November

Steel grey skies
outline naked trees,
the earth littered
with debris of summer.
A few procrastinating squirrels
frantically scurry,
looking for anything
to hide away for later.
The smart birds
have all found hiding places,
the smarter birds
have all gone south.
It’s coming, oh, it’s coming

Collateral Damage

not fighting for pride
they took neither side
just happened to be in the way

with no wrong or right
it wasn’t their fight
but sadly got caught in the fray

no caskets, no flags,
and no body bags
no headstones to engrave

no rites, no prayers
no kin, no heirs
just buried in one mass grave

round after round
mortars pounding the ground
‘til everything rattles and shakes

through deceit and lies
each side denies
that their men made any mistakes

there will be some loss
that’s par for the course
is all that the leaders can say

but in the end
they will all meet again
perhaps on atonement day

Friday, November 11, 2011

The Twenty-Ninth of August

the images are flashing by
they stream on my computer screen
while TV too, plays out the scene
and rain keeps falling from the sky

while people stare and wonder why
Mother Nature must be so mean
a hurricane they named “Irene”
still rivers rise and people die

as trees uproot, their branches fly
a gentle brook, once so serene
now cuts an angry, wide ravine
all I can do is just stand by

the bridges that once stood so high
made crossing rivers so routine
as crumbling banks and rocks careen
then disappear before my eye

I just watch and testify
water levels we’ve never seen
churning like a mad machine
go find a place that’s safe and dry

Wednesday, October 19, 2011


you were a baby long ago
what words to use, you didn’t know
all your needs, all your questions
were all conveyed through your expressions

I could look into your eyes
see joy, contentment or surprise
you didn’t really have a choice,
you were too young to use your voice

complaints, agreement, interaction
frustration, envy, satisfaction,
words you didn’t need to say
often now get in the way

but now each time I look at you
I really haven’t got a clue
you’ve learned to mask your feelings well
now what you’re thinking I can’t tell

your words they tell convincing lies
while your expressions you disguise
you’ve learned to use words to deceive
and I can’t tell what to believe

Sunday, October 16, 2011

The Eleventh Hour

“ an eye for an eye,” their battle cry
a death row inmate waits to die
nothing left to do but wait
one last hour to contemplate

as rich, old men decide your fate
vigil persists outside the gate
the men in robes deliberate
there’s nothing more they can debate

statement issued, conviction stands
your fate’s in someone else’s hands
the Governor could intervene
but as of yet has not been seen

protesters continue chanting
witnesses have been recanting
saying they had been coerced
their testimony was rehearsed

eleventh hour, a statement read
the prisoner is pronounced dead
proponents let out muffled cheers
supporters breaking down in tears

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Phantom Storm - (Villanelle)

a storm is coming up the coast
some other place they’d rather be
the mariners fear this one most

they pour some rum and drink a toast
as tortured souls try to break free
a storm is coming up the coast

a skeleton ship that’s manned by ghosts
made up of sailors lost at sea
the mariners fear this one most

abandoned hope and left their posts
from sinking ships they could not flee
a storm is coming up the coast

in pirate tales they often boast
but now reduced to beg and plea
the mariners fear this one most

they sold their souls to Satan’s host
to sail into eternity
a storm is coming up the coast
the mariners fear this one most

Write it Down

People say I’m incoherent
others think that I’m insane
light a fire but don’t stand near it
daffodils and pork lo mein

Maybe I’m not really crazy
maybe it is all an act
sometimes I might pick a daisy
take a bite and put it back

You may think that I’m absurd
butterflies and child-proof caps
I don’t know what you have heard
hemorrhoid cream and memory lapse

Perhaps I’m getting tired of life
maybe I’m just sick of you
they won’t let me near a knife
they’re afraid what I might do

My good jacket is at the cleaner
I borrowed this one off the rack
they are watching my demeanor
and the sleeves tie in the back

They want me to keep a diary
they ask me to write things down
then it turns to an inquiry
as they turn my words around

So now I’m writing random words
often swearing, sometimes shout
floating fish and sinking birds
more shit for them to figure out

Friday, June 24, 2011

Politicians - (Villanelle)

the politicians make their plans
while lawyers all review their cases
and corporate money changes hands

make policies for foreign lands
as media promotes their faces
the politicians make their plans

in words nobody understands
speeches made from well known places
and corporate money changes hands

while noisy crowds and marching bands
assemble in our public spaces
the politicians make their plans

and as the voter base expands
pollsters all predict the races
and corporate money changes hands

keep kissing babies, greeting fans
phony handshakes, false embraces
the politicians make their plans
and corporate money changes hands

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Always The Same Questions

a simple glance
instant romance
hoping for
an honest chance
a second look
is all it took
write your number
in my book
the slightest touch
I’m in your clutch
hold my tongue
don’t say too much
a little attention
no apprehension
my thoughts defy
all comprehension
Am I too needy?
Am I being greedy?
Are my emotions
just too speedy?
How can this last?
Am I type cast?
Why do I fall
in love so fast?
How do I feel?
Is this real?
Is this just simply
sex appeal?
Happy ending,
just pretending,
or is a new romance

Alien Nation

going through this world alone
feeling like you don’t belong
acting like a lifeless drone
feeling like your not that strong

living in a world unknown
wondering where it all went wrong
feeling like a mindless clone
only trying to get along

no one knows what it’s about
no one even has a clue
no one has it figured out
no one knows what they should do

but you know it’s not just you
many feel they don’t fit in
half of the people feel it too
feeling like they just can’t win

everyone I know has doubt
feeling all alone and lost
trying to find their own way out
feeling they’ve been doubled-crossed

My Beautiful Wreck

when they finish sifting through the debris
of fragments of your life that used to be
I hope they send the pieces back to me
though I may not assemble them perfectly

you would probably be a pain in the neck
with pieces back where they’re supposed to be
you’ll make someone a beautiful wreck
that someone might as well be me

when you don’t know what you are doin’
and when you’re tired of all the travel
I’ll sort through the mess and ruin
to see you don’t completely unravel

when the world you live in comes undone
and all your faith gets lost in rubble
I might just be the only one
to try and keep you out of trouble

I’ll be ready when you crash
to help you keep your life in check
and when it all goes in the trash
you can be my beautiful wreck

The Secret

I present myself
as a hard brittle shell
only because
I don’t want you to see me
as a soft runny yoke
and a drippy albumen

The Writer

amid a mountain of nouns
clipped from the Sunday Times
like discount coupons,
with a large box of verbs,
some of which
date back to the War of 1812,
out of a draw full of clauses,
some of which
have never ever been used before,
from a jar full of punctuation marks,
many yellowed with age,
among a closet overflowing
with prepositions, adverbs, adjectives,
articles, and pronouns,
all stacked like cordwood,
the writer sits
with an idea
and begins to write

The Sculptor

He can not rest until
he works his tears
and his dreams
into a block of stone.
He can not sleep
until the granite
contains his laughs
and his hopes.
He can not retreat
until his thoughts
and heart are
instilled in rock.

The Potter

The earth turns the potter.
The potter turns the earth.
The earth being
the medium by
which the potter
builds his dreams
the potter realizes
that his dreams
will someday return
to the earth.

The Poet

 tripping over
 three-legged words,
 clumsily fighting with
 left-handed rhyme,
 arm wrestling with
 awkward meter,
 the poet
 reaches into
 his wallet
 and pulls out
 his poetic license
 and writes

The Dancer

Gliding poetically
through time
and space
with movement
so graceful
as to envy a dove,
the dancer
puts art
to the test
of motion.

Monday, June 13, 2011

The Artist

sitting at that
magic point
where a rainbow
touches the
the artist,
tries to
its colors
onto a
dry, lifeless

Unfashionably Late

you‘re just in time,
to be too late
the food’s all gone
we couldn’t wait
but come on in
we’re glad you’re here
sorry, but
we’re out of beer
look around
find a cup
there’s a little bit
of 7 Up
on the table
there were some chips
there’s just crumbs left
and we’re out of dips
there might be crackers
on the shelf
feel free
to  help yourself
grab a seat
sit anywhere
sorry there’s
no silverware
ice has melted
long ago
we had a band
they had to go
now you’re here
have some fun
turn out the lights
when you are done

Strange Dream

I dreamed I was awake
but when I woke up, I was sleeping
I dreamed I shut my alarm clock off
but the damn thing still kept beeping

so I got up and unplugged it
then I threw it at the wall
went back to bed and scratched my head
I hadn’t gotten up at all

I dreamed I closed the window
but the rain kept coming in
I looked back and saw a solid wall
where the window should have been

I got up to see what happened
my feet no sooner hit the floor
I ran all about but couldn’t get out
the bedroom had no door

and the clock it still was squawking,
with its’ loud obnoxious beep
I opened my eyes, to my surprise
found I was still asleep

Questions For A Firefly

Firefly up in the sky
tell me do you ever tire
of flying around with your butt on fire?
And with that flaming, glowing ass
do you fear setting fire to the grass?
Do you ever have to wear sun glasses
to protect your eyes from other fireflies’ asses?
Is one of those things you have to learn,
keep your distance so your face won’t burn?
As you’re gliding through the night
with your rear-end shining bright
do you ever worry that
you’re a target for a hungry bat?
I guess bats don’t hunt with their eyes
so that blazing butt will be quite a surprise.
And what about those nights it rains
are you afraid it might put out your flames?
What would your life be all about
if your pilot-light goes out?

Rainbows At Night

searching for things that just aren’t there
things I can’t find anywhere
but I keep looking just the same
I think that she might be to blame

she keeps me seeking things that can’t be
like a meaningful relationship between her and me
I’m looking for something I just don’t see
like a spark of compassion or some sympathy

but I keep on trying to figure her out
and keep giving her the benefit of doubt
she’s not there yet but someday she might
while I go on searching for rainbows at night

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

This Time

This time the make-up won’t cover the bruises
police offer help but she flatly refuses
his drunken behavior she quickly excuses
“mind your own business,” is the phrase that she uses

“This time you were lucky,” the doctors explain
as they stitch up the cuts and remove the blood stain
then write a prescription to help with the pain
the advice that they give her is only in vain

This time she was fortunate, she got away
“hope she learned her lesson,” her mother did pray
but she’s back talking to him the very next day
“just a young, stupid girl,” is all her friends say

This time it was good that her child wasn’t there
to see her cut lips or the blood in her hair
but sometimes the damage is beyond repair
and destined to lead to a life of despair

This time she blames it all on the booze
and turns a blind eye to the obvious clues
that some people just are inclined to abuse
maybe next time we’ll select what casket to choose

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Nursing Home Revisited Again

a photo of Reagan on the wall
Truman’s face hangs in the hall
then they trick me with a quiz
and ask me who the president is

they show me movies on TV
familiar faces I do see
of actors who are long since dead
I swear they’re messing with my head

calendars are always near
that show the month but not the year
they tell the day and what’s for lunch
what year it is I have no hunch

there are no current magazines
pictures all show by-gone scenes
all day long I have to see ‘em
it’s like I’m living in a museum

they never let me watch the news
afraid that it will just confuse
but Bingo they will let me play
they say I’m better off this way

Trailer Park Queen - LYRICS

she has the laugh of a child
Miss America lips
a movie star smile
and very shapely hips
she has the eyes of an angel
and a devilish grin
a ballerina’s legs
and a dimple on her chin
she’s got the cutest little body
that you’ve ever seen
with a mouth like a trucker
she’s the trailer park queen

don’t judge her by the clothes
that she happens to wear
you gotta look past
her really big hair
and maybe her make-up
is a little too much
and she might need to cut back
on the hairspray a touch
you may not understand her
but she’s somebody’s dream
she makes kids and puppies nervous
she’s the trailer park queen

well. she doesn’t like to cook
and she’s never read a book
but she can make a mean martini
serve it up in her bikini
she can down a shot of Jack,
Johnny Walker, Jim Beam
she drinks like a fish
she’s the trailer park queen

well, I wouldn’t want to cross her
wouldn’t wanna make her mad
she’s got a twelve gauge shotgun
that she got from her dad
I’ve never seen her use it
but I wouldn’t put it past her
they say she shot at someone once
but I’m not about to ask her
some things are better left alone
if you know what I mean
let’s just leave it at that
she‘s the trailer park queen

well, her waist is really narrow
and she drives a red Camaro
likes to take it into town
likes to cruise it all around
she loves to spin the tires
and create quite a scene
all the guys stop and stare
she’s the trailer park queen

Sunday, April 24, 2011


taking up space
taking up time
we sit
the stones and I

Steel Wheels

they plow the land
and plant the fields
and do it all
on steel wheels

use gasoline
and diesel fuel
but rubber is
the devil’s tool

when they travel
along the road
horse and buggy
the preferred mode

they try to stick
to their ideals
and ride around
on steel wheels

Rodeo Clown

she puts on her make-up
her own special way
with all kinds of colors
from back in the day
covers her cheeks
with rosy, red blush
like it was put on
with a house painter’s brush
baby blue shadow
to bring out the eyes
penciled on eyebrows,
a look of surprise
puts on red lipstick
with a big “pucker up”
much brighter red
then the town’s fire truck
now, she’s all ready
to head into town,
as a lonely, old widow
or a rodeo clown?

Saturday, April 23, 2011

When I Went To Bed

The earth was still spinning when I went to bed
and I woke up in a completely different place
it was a different time, eight hours into the future
in this new space, in this new time
I decided to make a fresh start


I’m not afraid of crying
not afraid to make it known
and I’m not afraid of dying
just afraid to live alone

And I’m not afraid to love you
just afraid to let you know
I’m afraid that if I hold too tight
you might decide to go

I’m not afraid of darkness
and I’m not afraid of pain
I’m afraid to make a venture
For the fear there’ll be no gain


Some with two legs
Some with four
Some with six legs
Some with more

Some with feathers
Some with hair
Some with fur
Some are bare

Some have arms
Some have fins
Some have wings
Some just skins

Some with noses
Some with snouts
Some with beaks
Some without

Some make noises
Some can speak
Some are silent
Some can shriek

Some have fingers
Some have claws
Some have hoofs
Some have paws

Some in dens
Some at home
Some in nests
Some just roam

Some are yellow
Some are blue
All are different
One is you

Honey Bee

“You’re one in a million ,”
that’s what they say
but when I look around
I don’t feel that way
there are thousands of others
we all look the same
the fact I’m a honey bee
may be to blame
I have some ideas
about how things should be
but I’m just a worker
no one listens to me
if I do my own thing
I’ll create a big scene
and there’ll be hell to pay
when it reaches the queen
so I just keep working
and cleaning the hive
and packing up honey
to keep us alive
then off to get nectar
I’ll make a bee line
out into the meadows
to see what I find
I’m a worker bee
no time to relax
when I finish that
I have to make wax
to cap off the cells
and repair broken comb
why couldn’t I be
just a lazy old drone?

Roadside Service

another tree with the bark ripped off
a mound of flowers, a wooden cross
a soccer ball, a teddy bear
the burnt remains of a safety flare
a set of skid marks, torn up grass
an oil stain, some shattered glass
friends all gather at the sight
holding candles, burning bright
try to figure what went wrong
break into his favorite song
remember stories through the years
some bring laughter, most bring tears
reminisce about a friend that’s gone
who wasn’t on this earth that long
someone’s brother, someone’s son
why did he have to die so young?
we’ll never drive by here again
not without remembering

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

On This Big Lonely Ocean

sometimes it seems that we’re all set afloat
on this big lonely ocean in our own little boat
just set adrift at the mercy of the tide
waiting for the current to give us a ride

sometimes you’re out there floating in the middle
and you’re feeling alone, insignificant and little
when you’re all by yourself just drifting away
you gotta hang on for one more day

I’ll throw you a line, I’ll put out a net
pull our boats together and see where we get
try to remember you’re not on your own
there are a million little boats trying to find a way home

and there’s a much better chance if we all band together
we can survive any storm, endure the bad weather
and if collectively we fight off the attack
there’s a pretty good chance we can all make it back

Night Sky

all the wonders that the daylight conceals
come out of hiding when the night sky reveals
moons, planets, floating debris
all kinds of interesting things to see
shooting stars may fill the skies
or maybe simply fireflies
space stations, shuttles, satellites
maybe a show of the Northern Lights
bats and moths may fill the air
we know mosquitoes will be there
when our massive sun has left the skies
a million little suns arise
all these things the night sky can provide
but you’ll miss them all if you don’t go outside

Herd Mentality

with piercings galore
in each ear at least four
because you only want to stand out
but more holes in your ears
just to impress your peers
is that really what life is about?

although you think it’s unique
a diamond stud through your cheek
a sparkle to let everyone see
but when all of your friends
follow all the same trends
really how unique can it be?

obsessed with things
like belly button rings
and how many piercings you’ve got
your nipples were done
and a stud through your tongue
as you show the tattoo on your butt

and the one on your back
made you part of the pack
though you say you got it only for you
it’s the one you regret
that you’d like to forget
wish there was something you could do

so with nothing to loose
get some more tattoos
and try to become someone new
but you don’t really think
as you pick out your ink
there’s a million that look just like you

Health Care

I believe in holistic medicine
but it’s a little bit out of my range
so I’m stuck with halfasstic medicine
and left feeling a little bit strange


cockroach scatters across the floor
Jehovah Witness at the door
a can of poison I do spray
but just can’t drive these pests away
shut off the light, pretend I’m sleeping
but the doorbell still keeps beeping
I put out a Roach Hotel
chances are I’m going to hell
I’m watching the Jehovahs leave
open the door and can’t believe
they left a stack of religious fodder
that I roll into a cockroach swatter

Inconvenient Disaster

players had just taken the court
shooters about to take their aim
just then a breaking news report
please don’t interrupt my game

really sorry for your disaster
I know that you are not to blame
but could you just get through it faster
and please don’t interrupt my game

earthquakes, tornadoes, hurricanes,
news reports all sound the same
still one simple fact remains
please don’t interrupt my game

it sucks about your tragedy
people die and that’s a shame
not blind to your catastrophe
but please don’t interrupt my game

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Play

she gave me a full access pass
orchestra pit
back stage and all
the play was fantastic
even though there was one act
that still makes her a little nervous

Dried Fruit

I didn’t start out
as a wrinkly old prune
I was once a young plum like you
but those years in the sun
hanging out having fun
well, there isn’t a lot you can do

like you I once
was in great shape
but even a raisin
starts out as a grape
you just can’t avoid it,
ask any of my friends
they’re all looking weathered,
that just how it ends

cover it with make-up,
try to deny it
stay out of the sun,
eat some special diet
collagen injections
or maybe a tuck
but sooner or later
you run out of luck

the best you can do
is postpone it a while
but in the end
you just gotta smile
and hope maybe someone
might still find you cute
and spend the rest of your days
with some other dried fruit

Infrastructure - (Villanelle)

we notice not the slow decay
of rotted wood or rusted steel
as manmade objects fade away

diminished slowly day by day
while over time the cracks reveal
we notice not the slow decay

the corners bend, the edges fray
these damages we can’t conceal
as manmade objects fade away

a coat of paint, a short delay
but soon that paint begins to peel
we notice not the slow decay

great monuments were built to stay
on solid ground with grand ideal
as manmade objects fade away

there’s nothing more that we can say
just act as if it’s no big deal
we notice not the slow decay
as manmade objects fade away

Monday, April 4, 2011


I remember it like it was yesterday.

We were connected to each other
in so many ways -
but not really.
Social networking, tweeting and blogging were big,
as if someone gave a shit
what I had for breakfast
or as if I gave a shit
what kind of tea they were drinking
but we commented anyway
because it made life seem less lonely.

We watched reality TV
thinking, “I wish that was me ”
or “ I’m glad that’s not me ”
and “has beens” and “wannabes “
competed at dancing.

Back then, we drove big cars
and pick-ups
and SUV’s
that used lots of fossil fuel
but we built a few small cars
and a hybrid every now and then
so we could feel good about ourselves
and the environment.
These cars were linked to satellites
and told us exactly where we were on the planet
and where the nearest Starbucks was,
where we could order a “Trenta” latte
for about the same amount of money it cost
to feed a small child in Somalia for a month.

We were so naive back then.

Yes, I remember it like it was yesterday.

I Blame Fred

Damn you, Fred Rogers
for telling me I was special
You really had me going there for a while
and the whole time
you were telling everybody in the country
that they were special, too
while the Asian kids were kicking our asses
in math and science
because they knew that they were not special
and they had to work hard
because there were thousands of others
ready to take their place should they fuck up

Now the neighborhood is in shambles
and we are left standing in the unemployment line
wearing our button-up sweaters

Saturday, April 2, 2011


I drove across this expansive country
to see the beauty for myself
view the grandeur
nature’s masterpiece
as I stood alone

just me

and a few million strangers
we took away
and photographs
left only footprints

huge carbon footprints

In This Vessel - (Villanelle)

in this vessel of blood and bone
thoughts just echo through my head
I silently, reside alone

throughout the years while I have grown
I’ve thought about the life I’ve led
in this vessel of blood and bone

I’ve thought about the seeds I’ve sown
and thought about the words I’ve said
I silently, reside alone

emotionally, I’ve turned to stone
while feeling like my soul is dead
in this vessel of blood and bone

and all the people I have known
who shared a meal, a house, a bed
I silently, reside alone

with all the chances I have blown
and all the choices made instead
in this vessel of blood and bone
I silently, reside alone

Monday, March 28, 2011

Canning Jars

packing the pantry
when cupboards were filled
with jars of tomatoes
and beans that were dilled

once a key player
in the family’s survival
patiently waiting
the home food revival

stashed away in the basement
all but forgotten
as now meals are made
with the push of a button

sitting for years
in the cobwebs and dust
the metal wire bails
beginning to rust

pulled from the cellar
or bought at yard sales
gather the lids
and tighten the bails

called into service
once more from the past
as food now again
is preserved under glass

a hot water bath
to ensure a good seal
holding the contents
for a mid-winter meal

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

On Withered Vine - (Rondel)

grapes can not thrive on withered vine
despite how hard we work and toil
they can’t withstand neglected soil
tied up with string or wire or twine

the yearn for growth we can’t confine
twisted branches need to uncoil
grapes can not thrive on withered vine
despite how hard we work and toil

no longer can we make our wine
from grapes so plump, so red and royal
now only wilt and rot and spoil
are gathered from this crop of mine
grapes can not thrive on withered vine

Sunday, March 20, 2011

The Crazy Cat Lady

leaving the house for only short periods at a time
just long enough to buy cat food and kitty litter
stopping at the used clothes donation bin
and if nobody is looking
stealing a bag or two of the donated clothes
(not that stealing is right, but nobody
wants to donate clothes to dress up stray cats)
today is “Corky’s” birthday
she’ll be the one dressed as a princess
and if you plan on buying her something
remember she only likes the low-sodium Deviled Ham
she also needs a new tooth brush, (medium soft bristle)
“Buttons “ (Corky’s ex) will be there
he says he’s not dressing up, but my guess is
he’ll wear that new blue sweater
he’s still not over her

Saturday, March 19, 2011

I Used to Speak in Photographs

I used to speak in photographs
everything I needed to say
could be said in black and white
I’d punctuate in tones of grey

then they took the film away
and gave digital cameras to everyone
and cheapened the art form
the way ill conceived tattoos
can cheapen the look of a woman’s body

everything now is photographed
from every angle, in slow motion,
in ultra high speed, in high definition,
and I find it hard to find my voice
through all the static

most times now I speak in poetry
where everything I need to say
can be said in black and white
I still punctuate in tones of grey


I know that she is into me
although it is hard to tell
she never even looks my way
she hides it very well

she walks right by
she doesn’t smile
she never stops
to talk a while

pretends she doesn’t
know my name
can’t fool me
I know her game

she’s into me
it’s plain to see
I’ll wear her down

how long, who knows
this ruse will last
we’ll be together
once it’s past

it won’t be long
just wait and see
oh, I can tell
she’s into me

Monday, March 14, 2011


no way in hell can this thing fail
we’ve thought of every last detail
nothing can bring us to our knees
it’s loaded with redundancies
no matter what, make no mistake
with systems built for safety’s sake
you have our word, we state our case
back-up procedures all in place

the ground may move, the earth may shake
built to withstand the largest quake
no cause for worry, no need to doubt
we’ve got the whole thing figured out
so, don’t complain and please don’t bitch
there may have been a little glitch
before you all get out of hand
just let us try our back-up plan

we have noticed your frustration
concerns about the radiation
but let us once again be clear
there’s really no alarm for fear
for anyone who lives down-range
we’ll let you know of any change
please be assured until that time
that everything is going fine

Sunday, March 13, 2011

The Wait of Water - (Villanelle)

a shift in the tectonic plate
early morning siren screeches
across the ocean people wait

awakened to this twist of fate
tsunami warning, clear the beaches
a shift in the tectonic plate

minute by minute news update
listen to the experts' speeches
across the ocean people wait

all trying to anticipate
how far this devastation reaches
a shift in the tectonic plate

don’t live in a complacent state
lessons Mother Nature teaches
across the ocean people wait

as the local pastor preaches
although his prayers come too late
a shift in the tectonic plate
across the ocean people wait

Friday, March 11, 2011

Rebuttal To Nothing

I’m sorry for writing nothing
but I really meant nothing by it
and if I offended no one
then no one can deny it

There’s a Pill For That

Can’t produce tears, take a pill.
Can’t get an erection, soon you will.
Having trouble breathing?
Want to stop sneezing?
Need to lose that fat?
There’s a pill for that.
Worried about choking?
Trying to quit smoking?
Having trouble speaking?
Is your bladder leaking?
Maybe acute halitosis?
Possibly osteoporosis?
Need help releasing an egg?
Do you have a restless leg?
Do you have chronic indigestion?
Seasonal allergy congestion?
Are you feeling much too shy?
Is your cholesterol way too high?
Do you suffer from aggression?
Have you been diagnosed with depression?
Have a condition you can’t mention?
Do you struggle with hypertension?
Are you having trouble seeing?
Do you have a problem peeing?
Maybe you’re a diabetic.
Maybe your problem is cosmetic.

(side effects may include; dry mouth, vomiting, uncontrollable diarrhea, spontaneous bleeding, headaches, dizziness, ringing in the ears, runny nose, drowsiness, trouble falling asleep, trouble waking up, changes in appetite, thoughts of suicide, strange or unusual dreams, certain sexual side effects, swelling of the breast, anal leakage, rash, itching, cramps, shortness of breath, temporary blindness, paralysis, changes in skin color, loss of hair, mood swings, constipation, decrease in semen, blurred vision, lapses in memory, trouble standing or sitting, sleepwalking, jaywalking, moonwalking and double talking)

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Small Brown Bag

Tucked under her arm
only partially hidden
a small brown bag
like the Drugstore uses.
She didn’t offer
and I didn’t ask,
just an awkward silence.
It was about the size
of a box of tampons
or a pregnancy test
but she’s never hidden
tampons from me before.


I thought that she was perfect
until she pointed out her flaws to me
which made her all the more perfect

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Haunting Image

young boy dying of starvation
skeleton loosely wrapped in skin
just meters from a relief foundation
without the strength to make it in

check the settings, watch the light
shoot in color or black and white?
crop the photo, get in tight
got to get the exposure right

photo caught his last expression
fleeting end to all his pains
vacant eyes leave an impression
just the photograph remains

digital image hits the wires
awards are given for the shot
photographer, he then retires
but the image still cannot

few weeks later with depression
and a gun blew out his brains,
no longer held in his possession
still the photograph remains

An Idea

From the crevices of my laden mind,
an idea is released
to be pondered by imagination,
debated by logic
and backed up by reason,
where it transcends
from the brain,
through the hand,
to the paper,
where it awaits the journey
from the paper
to the eye
into the crevices of your laden mind.

Monday, March 7, 2011

A Brand New Muse

getting tired
poetic license
has expired

then by chance
or circumstance
in cyberspace
I catch a glance

once desired
thoughts retired
brand new issues
have transpired

spread the news
a brand new muse
with capable legs
and climbing shoes

carried me
up to this peak
gave me words,
helped me speak

to this place
a gentle face
lead me here
to state my case

now uncovered
infant feelings
gently mothered

Sunday, March 6, 2011


You’re way too fat you’ll never fly
just look around and you’ll see why
all the other flying things
have skinny bodies with great big wings

I think perhaps your biggest trouble
your abdomen’s shaped like a bubble
and how do you plan to get around
when all that pollen weighs you down?

You get nowhere near the buzz
as your cousin the honey bee does
There’s no one building you a hive
trying to help you to survive

Oh. Bumblebee can you explain
those tiny wings of cellophane
So, Bumblebee please fly for me
and help me solve this mystery

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Time Machine

I’m working on a time machine
and it’s the only one
no sooner had I started it
it was already done

It cost a lot to build it
but I put it all on credit
every time the bill comes due
I go back and forget it

How long it took, it’s hard to say
built on time I had to borrow
I started it a week from today
and finished it tomorrow

Because time travels in a line
you have to journey quickly
I can move ahead just fine
but backwards leaves me sickly

“Is there a way to prove it works?”
Why yes, I’m glad you asked
the poem that you are reading now
was written in the past

For Lack of An Egg

for lack of an egg
the cake wasn’t made
for lack of the cake
the party delayed

this lack of an egg
is no laughing matter
this lack of an egg
means lack of cake batter

this lack of an egg
you think is a joke
this lack of the albumen
this lack of the yoke

for lack of an egg
the cake must be ordered
for lack of an egg
the hen must be slaughtered

Friday, March 4, 2011


The cycle once again begins
as maple trees send out swelling buds
that become leaves,
fresh new growth,
that hides the leaf scars of years gone by.

Robins are busy searching.
Searching for mates.
Searching for straw to repair their nest
after winter’s harsh treatment.
Searching for food for their young.

Young trout swim safety in the shallow pools
but are compelled to take risks
and venture forth
into dangerous,
fast moving waters.

Meanwhile, the crocus bravely pushes
up through the earth
and makes a stand,
competing for it’s share of the springtime.

Deer feed in open meadows.
New fawns play in the warm, spring sunshine,
unaware of potential danger
from winter, hunters or dogs.

Like the maple, I too,
cover old scars with new growth.
Like the robins, I too,
am searching.
Like the trout , I too,
am compelled to venture forth
and to  take risks.
Like the crocus, I too,
must compete.
Like the fawn, I too,
am ignorant of possible danger.

Yes, the cycle once again begins.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Mistaken Love

An oversight of self-admission,
mistaken love, misguided vision
but fallacies were so exciting
filled with grace and so inviting.
Reality with such intrusion
made me ponder my illusion.
The eternal love I’d waited for
was just a dream and nothing more

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Born Again Agnostic

you feel the need to fuel your dream
returning to a common theme
routinely like a Homing Pigeon
with songs and poems about religion

I know the story, I’ve thought it through
I once believed the same as you
I went to church, I’ve read the book
but then I took a second look

while innocent people die in vain
by famine, flood or hurricane
by the hand of this same god we praise
we just say “he works in mysterious ways”

what kind of god would just stand by
while helpless little children die?
don’t try to tell me there is a plan
that only he can understand

don’t leave your pamphlets in my door
don’t come to my house any more
and if I ever change my mind
you’re really not that hard to find

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Starving Poets

Starving poets have to eat their words
slowly choking on the commas
and spitting out the periods.
Hard to digest thoughts
and awkward meter
leave a bitter taste on the palate.
The lesser read poems are burned in the stove
to ward off the chill of the sub-zero night.
The fire dwindles, ideas have run out
but the harsh wind of winter keeps banging at the door
as cold children stare with solemn blank faces
their bellies are empty,
they have no appetite for words.

Basement Apartment

it was dark, it was small
just a hole in the wall
we could hear all the sounds of the street
but the time that we spent
and affordable rent
made us forget about walls of concrete

So, we made it our own
and we called it a home
though we still couldn’t wait to get out
but with our lack of space
packed in our little place
we learned what true love was about

but that was the past
and it just couldn’t last
now, we live in a big house of wood
when I think of those days
of our underground stays
all the memories I have are all good

At The End Of The Day

At the end of the day
when all’s said and done
will you go home alone
and make dinner for one ?
Will you stop at the tavern
and sit at the bar
or go to the drive-through
and eat in the car?
You vowed to stop drinking
but went back on your pledge
so you have a few drinks
just to take off the edge
and you stay up late
watching mindless T.V.
Do you ever imagine
just how your life could be?
You had a wife and kids
but you left them behind,
you walked out years ago
said you needed some time.
You left in the summer
but soon it was fall
they got on without you,
no one missed you at all.
Now years have passed
and you’re still all alone
no one writes, no one visits,
no one calls on the phone.
Well, that’s how it goes
so, what do you think?
It’s the end of the day
might as well have a drink.

A Small Stone

A small stone sits on a lonely shore
nestled in the silent sand,
but soon the tide approaches
and the stone, encompassed, embraced,
disappears from sight.
The sea retreats as gently as it came
leaving behind a smooth, clean , beach.
I am that stone.
Your love is the sea.


might have been a childish thing to do
but I threw away all my pictures of you
trashed all the letters that you sent
box and all, the whole content
ticket stubs from our first date
I remember how I couldn’t wait
the birthday cards, little love notes,
all the poems you ever wrote
every gift you ever gave
there’s nothing that I want to save
nothing left to remind me of you
but my memories and this damn tattoo

Jury Duty

I thought she was a real beauty
I met her while on jury duty
we spent a lot of time together
each day I got to know her better
she smiled at me, I gave a wave
the judge then ordered I behave
the foreman said, “you gotta end it,
you can not flirt with the defendant “
I had a crush I will admit
that’s why I’m voting to acquit
No, I’m not really that naive
her innocence I don’t believe
but even though the trial’s still pending
my stint as being a juror’s ending

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Fleeting Candle

A fleeting candle with both ends burning
getting brighter as flames converge
this cruel world just keeps on turning
from the fire what can emerge?

Could we have slowed the rapid blazes
is the question friends have asked
as they stare with steel-eyed gazes
and contemplate a life that passed

but their candles also burn,
quickly and from both ends, too
maybe this time they will learn
that there’s something they can do

to turn the table on their pain
and maybe find a new direction
so this lost life won’t be in vain
but maybe stir some self-reflection

but these life lessons seldom last
and soon we find we must return
for another life snuffed out too fast
another two-end candle burned

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Poker Face

if you have any feelings
you’ve hid them from me
I look in your eyes
but there’s nothing to see
I ask pointed questions
they act as a test
but you hold your cards
so close to the vest
I really can’t tell
if there’s anything there
with your great poker face
and your solemn, blank stare
so, I come out and ask you
as straight as can be
if you have any feelings
in your heart for me
“the game isn’t over”
is what you reveal
“if you want to keep playing
then shut up and deal”

Monday, February 7, 2011

Stolen Property

I trusted  you with my possessions
never thought you’d steal my stuff
now I’m waiting for your confessions
hoping things don’t get too rough

all I want is my property back
return the things you stole from me
although I really didn’t keep track
and don’t expect an apology

the goods which are of most concern
my sense of humor and my sanity
and while you’re at it please return
my heart, my soul and my dignity

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Freshwater Mermaids

the only mermaids that I’ve seen
came from fresh water, murky green
unlike the creatures  found in myths
these beings had their top-half fish
they had nice legs I must attest
that was the half I liked the best
until they chased me through the grass
and soon began to kick my ass
but in the air they could not last
these freakishly long-legged bass
back to the lake they soon returned
and swam away quite unconcerned
I stood and watched with such enchant
as they made their way towards the nuclear plant

Thursday, February 3, 2011

LYRICS-Middle Class, White Collar, Livin’ in the Suburb Blues

Well, I get up in the morning and my shower’s sometimes cold.
Yeah, I get up in the morning and my shower’s sometimes cold,
And my fuzzy, soft, warm slippers and my bathrobe’s getting old.

You know my woman didn’t leave me and my dog don’t run away.
No, my woman didn’t leave me and my dog don’t run away,
But when I go to the ‘frigerater , sometimes she gets in the way.

Sometimes my kids they watch the Simpsons, when I want to watch the news.
Yeah, my kids they watch the Simpsons, when I want to watch the news.
I got the middle class, white collar, livin’ in the suburb blues.

Well, I went up to the boss man and I asked him for a raise.
Yeah, I went up to the boss man and I asked him for a raise.
He added to my 401 K plan and gave me more paid holidays.

Ain’t got time to change my oil now, ‘cus I’m such a busy man. 
Got no time to change my oil now, ‘cus I’m such a busy man, 
and my Volvo’s in the shop now, got to drive the mini-van.

I’ve got to take the kids to soccer, yeah, I paid my soccer dues.
Got to take the kids to soccer, oh, I paid my soccer dues.
I got the middle class, white collar, livin’ in the suburb blues.

Cloaking Device

living in obscurity
right in plain sight
living in oblivion
in broad daylight
surviving right before your eyes
not as if you even care
living life without disguise
you don’t even know I’m there
cast no shadow, no reflection
doesn’t matter what I do
like being in witness protection
living right in front of you
the only down side I can see
with my new found invisibility
is that even if I beg or plea
you’re just not able to see me

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

With God on Our Side - (Rondeau)

we should be glad God’s on our side
with every step, with every stride
as we go marching off to war
like all the times we’ve gone before
with confident religious pride

by certain rules we must abide
these laws of man have been applied
while God sits back and keeps the score
we should be glad

back when our country did divide
with North or South did God confide?
or did He know what was in store
did He pick one side to ignore
or did He say, “I can’t decide” ?
we should be glad

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Poets Without Borders

Recently I have been out of touch
writing poems for those less fortunate,
those in countries without poetry,
in countries where words are used
only for official, serious communications
it may not have been my best work
it was hard writing under those conditions
doing the best I could to wash the dirty words,
caring for fragmented sentences, compound words,
dangling participles, diphthongs
but I did write, and I’m glad I did
my only regret was that I wish the people
in those countries spoke my language
and knew what I was saying

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Chasing Unicorns

better leave me alone
I’ve had a rough day
I’ve been out looking
for things nobody else can see
I’ve been chasing unicorns
I’ve been searching for leprechauns
looking for pixies , elves and gnomes
pursuing  fairies, seeking an imp
ok, maybe I don’t believe in these things
but she does and I believe in her

You Are

You’re the dog that ate my homework 
You’re the fish that stole my bait
You’re the reason I’m so tired 
You’re the girl my parents hate

You’re the pebble in my sneaker 
You’re the stain that’s in my bed
You’re the handprint on my window
You’re the song stuck in my head

You’re the monster in my closet 
You’re the gum stuck in my hair 
You’re the snack I crave at midnight
You’re the knock when no one’s there

You’re the spider in my shower 
You’re the cork in my Chablis
You’re the nail stuck in my tire
You’re the reason I am me

Same Old Words

I have to use the same old words
to say things you’ve already heard
I can only string them together
hoping this time comes out better
and the message can get through
although the words say nothing new
I’ll send my feelings off to you
and hope you feel the same way too
well here goes my latest try:
in with love you fell I

Time Piece

when time got started
way back when
the sky kept track
for ancient men
it was either
dark or light
work all day
sleep all night

in grandpa’s day
time took its time
on antique clocks
you had to wind
a majestic timepiece
kept the rhythm
or a pocket watch
that he kept with him

then electric devices
came on the scene
minutes spit out
by silent machine
with no tick-tock
the seconds left
this soundless clock

now the time
is everyplace
dashboards, cell phones
in your face
contraptions without
moving parts
constantly glowing
in the dark

to show that life
is racing by
can’t avoid it
if you try
and you can only
sit in haste
and contemplate
the time you waste

Sunday, January 23, 2011

My New Girlfriend

my new girlfriend is the best one yet
downloaded off the internet
oh, she’s as pretty as can be
she’s been altered digitally
I can choose the clothes she’ll wear
or change the color of her hair
transform the color of her eyes
modify her shape and size
I can pick the words she’ll use
in any language that I choose
I don’t think she could be much cuter
unless I upgrade my computer
for now I found a quick solution
I view her in high resolution
the only time she’s not around
is when my server is shut down
and if she ever does me wrong
just one click and she’ll be gone

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Blue Moon

didn’t really mean anything
it was just the tequila
that’s what we said
our last real kiss
so long ago
it was your birthday,
it was a blue moon
almost twenty years later
another blue moon
on your birthday again
and I’m writing about that kiss
that didn’t really mean anything


Poor little inchworm
with all his inchworm traits
crawled onto the yard stick
but he was only seven-eighths
“it’s because of your posture”
his mother did say,
“there’s a hump in your back
that just won’t go away”
“I forgot about my hump,”
he said with a laugh
then he stretched himself out
to an inch and a half

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Walking in Dead Men’s Shoes (circa 1920)

lumber barons,
captains of industry
making money
off the land and the workers
clearing the hillsides
killing the rivers
all to feed the paper mills,
so that there will be paper
for the writers to write stories
for the newspapers to print
about how the lumber barons
and captains of industry
are fighting the unions
and clearing the hillsides
and killing the rivers

While the captains of industry are busy
luring young men off the farms
to work in the factories
where they join the unions
and they build farm machinery
to sell to the farmers
who are selling the farms
because their sons have all left
to work in the factories

While the farmers sell their land
to the industry workers
who now have money
to buy lumber and paper
to build their houses
and read the stories
about how the lumber barons
and captains of industry
are clearing the hillsides
killing the rivers
fighting the unions
and luring young men off the farms

And the lumber barons
and the captains of industry
built twenty room mansions
with wrap-around porches
and carriage sheds with stables and quarters
But when the trees and farms were all gone
the factories shut down
the workers moved away
and the twenty room mansions
were sold or inherited
by people who couldn’t afford
to properly maintain them
and they fell into disrepair
and the hillsides were clear
the rivers were dead
the unions had left
the farms were all gone
and everyone ended up
walking in dead men’s shoes

The Awakening

She woke me with a whisper, not a shout
reminding me what life was all about
of all those things that I have lived without
since I was young and not so full of doubt

She woke me with a whisper, not a scream
made me realize I’m not too old to dream
Perhaps life is not so hollow as it seems
and we can help each other fill the gaps between

She woke me with a whisper, not a yell
I was awakened to the magic of her spell
Eventually, in love with her I fell
though I kept it to myself and did not tell

She woke me with a whisper, not a kiss
just another of those things I’ll have to miss
and find another way to reach my bliss
She may not be ready for a love like this

New World Zombies

the living dead
by virus spread
not through bites
megabits instead

transmitted through
your gaming station

broadcast through
those big flat screens
in your genes

killing zombies
such a rush
slowly turning
brains to mush

subliminal message
in the game
to your mind
they lay their claim

and someday when
the time is right
the couch potatoes
will unite

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Nursing Home - (Rondeau)

why am I here? am I insane?
is something wrong inside my brain,
do I suffer from some disease?
why won’t somebody tell me, please,
is someone willing to explain?

there is no reason to complain
the words would only be in vain
I miss the birds, I miss the breeze
why am I here?

my house no longer I maintain
so in this place I shall remain
family members I must appease
to give them all a sense of ease
I miss the sun. I miss the rain
why am I here?


Money can’t buy happiness
but poverty sure is sad
the time that I had money
was the best I ever had
all the times without it
were nowhere near as nice
yes, I had some money once
and I hope to have some twice


met today
met halfway
been a while
same sweet smile
warm hug
nice and snug
just right
not too tight
not too long
not too strong
looked great
lost some weight
hair dyed darker
bundled in a parker
still has doubt
working things out
still intends
to remain friends
will keep in touch
don’t say too much
talk again
not sure when
met today
met halfway

Energy Crisis

An ambulance in front of the house next door
and the County Coroner’s car.
As they haul the body out
in a clean, white sheet,
I heard someone say
the old lady froze to death.
I didn’t even know
anyone lived in the house next door.

Trophy Wife

she’s a trophy wife and that is all 
waiting for her beckoned call
a dead fish hanging on the wall 
a statue with a bowling ball

paraded around just for her look 
like a fancy cover for an empty book 
a side of beef hanging from a hook 
a polished stone you can’t overlook 

doesn’t have a point of view 
just says the words he tells her to 
won’t bring up things that are taboo 
keep smiling is all she has to do

living in a gilded cage 
until her face begins to age
thinking that she’s got it made 
until her beauty starts to fade 

with all the jewelry and the clothes 
the perfect smile so no one knows 
the empty feeling in her life 
of being someone’s trophy wife 

Placebo Effect

I didn’t get the real thing
what I had was fake
but my effects were genuine
and that was no mistake
the feelings that I had were real
the words I said were true
the information that was false
was what I got from you
you treated me with placebo
who knew that it would work?
I swallowed the lines you fed me
now I’m feeling like a jerk
all the things you told me
I believed them at the time
just words made out of sugar pills
but they made me feel so fine
now everything you tell me
I just assume is fake
no matter how sincere it sounds
it’s a bitter pill to take


I walk along,
through wooded darkness
seeking only inspiration
not permission
from the creatures
that dwell in the night forest.
They owe me nothing
nor do they even know who I am
but they know that I’m here
and we share the night.
For a short moment we are one
all encompassed within the mist laden cloud,
heavy with the smell of rotting leaves,
which rises above the ground
just high enough to conceal
the movements of even the tallest man
as well as the demons that pursue him.

Dance for Me

It would all be clear to me
I’d understand your history
unravel all your mystery
if only you would dance for me

Part of my philosophy
is never mess with destiny
let things happen naturally
and hope that you will dance for me

Locked inside my misery
only you can hold the key
maybe I could be set free
if only you would dance for me

Some things I may never see
places I may never be
when they write my biography
I hope they say you danced for me

Empty Skies

towers crashing to the ground
alarms have all been sounded
to a fiery, smoking mound
authorities responded
missing souls that won’t be found
newsmen were astounded
countless lives turned upside down
the planes have all been grounded
we were taken by surprise
staring at the unfilled space
gazing into vacant eyes
trying to find a hiding place
listening to the distant cries
waiting for the dust to settle
looking at the empty skies
through the heaps of twisted metal
who has vanished, who survives
who emerges from the void
how long until the help arrives
to the place that’s been destroyed
what we see is so surreal
devastation, death, demise
how on earth will we ever heal
praying to the empty skies

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Shades of Grey

She paints a picture just for me
with colorful intensity
in hues that never fade away
and paints them all in shades of grey

She talks to me in black and white
and things are either wrong or right
She always knows just what to say
and says it all in shades of grey

I sometimes wonder what is real
and often don’t know how I feel
but when I start to drift away
she pulls me back with shades of grey

She never wears the color red
but opts for white or black instead
and when she feels she wants to play
she dresses up in shades of grey

She simply lives life day to day
doesn’t have a debt to pay
she won’t let love get in her way
just lives her life in shades of grey

I look at her, to my surprise
find beauty in her emerald eyes
She looks at me from far away
I fear she just sees shades of grey

24 Hour Superstore

aisles and aisles of nothing
stacked eight feet high
and going on for miles
a line of goods coming in the back door
stretching all the way back to China
she walks down every row
looking at lawn chairs and baby clothes,
digital cameras and Cheerios,
socket wrenches and frozen yogurt,
riding lawnmowers and strapless bras,
picture frames and tampons,
pot roasts and sleeping bags,
but she never finds what she needs
she never finds love
she can’t buy confidence
she won’t discover hope
she can’t acquire  happiness
so, like all the other people
who are walking the aisles
at this time of night,
she shops

Chasing Ghosts

just woke up one morning 
summer turned to early fall 
found you’d left without a warning 
you were gone and that was all 

and it hit me from the blue
there was nothing I could say 
there were things I never know 
things that made you go away

you were willing to take chances 
there was nothing I could do
you had questions without answers 
and all those things I never knew

I felt the changing seasons 
tried to call you on the phone
tried to understand your reasons
only wish that I had known

heard you moved out to the west 
you were living on the coast 
I went out to try to find you 
ended up just chasing ghosts

I had no way of knowing
you had ghosts there of your own 
and those feeling just kept growing 
only wish that I had known

I guess you had your reasons 
and those reasons mattered most
to go after your own demons 
ended up just chasing ghosts