Reflections
My soul awakensI begin to see
The road that I traveled is now in sight
I begin to see the man that is me
A man that comes out of night into light

Thankful for the family memories
My wife, my children, my friends and my work
I try to forget all of my difficulties
And avoid sins and dangers that will lurk

Right Now is the time to retrain my brain
To be more mindful of what can now be
To ride life's joys on the existing train
I can open my eyes and now see

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
My nephew does his ice cream walk
Pounding the ground in a joyful romp

He won't do it for tri-tip,
He won't do it for cake,
Or even pico de gallo with garden grown tomatoes
All of which he is very fond of

Normally he walks real slow with nowhere to go
Unlike his brother who was practically born running
At the age of 2 he's a learned a valuable lesson: Sometimes you must make an exception

It may have been the tangled neurons
buzzing about in my head that tripped me,
knocking the wind out of my passable life
as if sending me tumbling
onto concrete,

splattering like a china doll,

pieces of me scattering into pockets of empty spaces
where once a foundation of confidence stood erect,
holding me safe.

But this is its odious power.

To be tossed about
into the reins of panic,
walls crumbling as I watch myself
slowly
sinking
downward.

To know fear.

The treated wood on this deer stand
is fading grey from all the years
which matches these woods old and bland.
I check for rot as autumn nears
and last night's ground fog disappears.

Carefully I ascend the ladder
and it creaks like my brittle bones.
It holds me so it doesn't matter.
Through these deep woods the wind moans
with desultory low pitched tones.

I am a builder,
Who constructs ,
And who adds value.
I am a creator,
Who uses imagination
In my writing.
I am a singer,
Who sings songs
Written by others.
I am an individual
With my own my ideas
And devices.
Constructing my world.

While out Christmas shopping at Mall Of America with Our Spanky Gang of Little Rascals, who should we bump into but, Scrooge, Fezziwig, Fred, Bob Cratchit, Mrs. Cratchit,Tiny Tim, Jacob Marley main fictitious characters drawn upon under belly, of real life mid eighteen hundreds lowliest British (thermal unit) poverty stricken caste. Das scribe sketched out their soul full collective misfortune, without virtue, but plenti via a vice, which storied lives depicted (i.e.

Some days I imagine it might really happen:
orifices oozing with ectoplasm,
Dorises with messages we can’t fathom;
transmigration’s been the fashion since ages ago
when Buddhists could make it to the sixth Bardo
or lose their many selves in Limbo.
You don’t think so?
Of course, it’s never on CNN, BBC or Sky,
just something glimpsed in the corner of an eye.

I was decanting your glow,
leaving the party popper antechamber
slimed and smoking with blue gel
and used batteries from gazebos
and the dead starfish and shooting galleys
I traced from your bruised
stars tattooed in the lettered spill
of braille symmetry
on the bruised oak of your skin,
the drowsy azalea, the caked inhalants
the silhouettes of hookah
and sugar cubed teeth falling
indexed with alchemical numbers
sifting in a dream’s boiling apocrypha,
and on my peacock’s tears

Dragonfly you bug-eyed fiend,
you rule the skies mosquito king.
Cruising through the stratosphere
just to find another meal.

Landing on an old tree branch
you pause to notice circumstance.
With steeley eyes you wantonly
peruse the swampy canopy.

To find a worthy mating wheel
you hold it tight as if to rear.
Fulfilling your supernal needs,
extend the life of your species.

The doorbell rang
And woke me up
Waking from my slumber
The chime that chimed
Was the voice in my mind
That created the words on the page
These words are out loud
And they're really, really proud
Of the way I feel inside
So still and so calm
So deeply profound
Ready to express my thoughts
These words come from me
The one who wants to be free
To soar like a bird in the sky
The doorbell that rings
Alerts me to things
That I need to be me
To be free
Free deep inside