Let each faltering step I take
alight upon the deep green moss
beside a remote stream or lake
beneath treetops which stir not toss.

May I inhale a light cool breeze
perfumed with ripe wild muscadines
upon the ground beneath tall trees
fresh fallen from their autumn vines.

And might the sounds which reach my ears
be absent of the noise of men.
I'd hear, rather, what a crane hears
as it lands within a tiny fen.

JOURNEY

Leaves fall golden crimson red
on a cold autumn ground
and taken by the wind
twirling round
they dance their dance
of the dead
like souls heaven bound
in communion

Les feuilles couleur dór
cramoisie
sur une terre froide d'automne
tombent
emportées par le vent
en rond
elles dansent
leur danse des morts
comme les àmes
vers les Cieux'
en communion s'enfuient

I hear the whisper

of slippers

light streams

down the hallway

the morning ritual

has begun

a toilet flushing

water runs

hairdryer hums

a day begins

snuggling deeper

finding a pocket

of warmth

I close my eyes

the scent of bacon

challenges sleep

the morning news

reaches out to me

another death

another stabbing

and the list goes on

and on

broken dreams

I am wasting my time

I am losing my mind.

I threw them all behind,

I have murdered the crime.

I am shaming myself

Laugh it out laugh it out laugh it out

You are shaming me

So I lower my head and beg

And when your judgments speak to my face,

They write ugly letters I can't erase

And when I let myself be heard,

All my words just crash down and burn

Make sure you keep it in your head,

all the dirty words you said

And eat them one by one...

by the time I'm gone

a bitter sluice archs
dark green and full
of gold

a shimmer cascade
falling forever

against the cool
shadow
of a quick dusk
the feel of the winds touch

caressing a dry hungry persistance
stitched with sparks

drench
but never quench
a seam of love
a coveted hate

a favoured scar
that vivid
sings
when passion
full of life
consumes
the restless
animal
desire

dancing in the
shade
in shapes
with want
and fear

whenever I read you I stand in advance ovation

such words none can emit
the light of day
as yours do permit
me to quote them
will you

upon the hearts and souls of moving time…. your poetry will always rhyme …well above the lightning clouds… ere one hears thunder…. they all will say Geremia
yes, was a wonder

that's why I wanted you to return
so many like me can midnight oil burn
to read your immortal poetry
in their own turn

Dark clouds roll
as thunder announces
your presence.
Lightening flashes
gracing their edges.

Prepared for battle
I stand in suit of armor
even though your war
is not with me.

Spin your web
of half-truths
and bold face lies
it will only contribute
to our demise.

Build yourself
upon my faults
to make yourself
look better
in other's eyes.

Politicians never lie,
they just say what you
want to believe.

I don't want to believe my
eyes or ears. The world is being covered
with dirty water spilling from polluted mouths.
The sky is falling with intention to rob the intellect
and separate the body from its common sense. My
heart walks alone but

walking while black is serious business
in Florida.
They fixed what ain't broken, you know,
and tombstones
loom large on the horizon. Hit men in the making and

PORTRAIT

Who will care
when these walls are bare
and all I touched and held
is wrapped neatly away
fading into the years.

who will hold my memories
know what I know
keep my moments never shared
understand the silence
which belonged to me alone.

But I am metaphor and rhyme
the music of verse
the movement of thought
from beginning to end
muted eloquence and grace.

I have been
and I will always be
I am the poetry
that is life

Thoughts don’t stop at red lights
Once more I sleep with self-doubt
If this is strength, I’d rather be weak

I go to war with my own mind
Another casualty to friendly fire
Every night I sit at the café
Where the scene plays again

My heart races as my mind
Becomes a prostitute to fears
And all I can do is resort to tears

Right about now I want to slither
Into the prison of silence
As my skin becomes
And old torn coat