Lacking their integrity and,
credibility-less,

what can start as a summer rain
can leave one's heart, a mess.

It's taking quite a toll on me
and left my heart in disrepair,

it's really such an evil curse
this damned ability to care.

My own knowledge of some truths, of late
have hurt me to my "core",

it's so difficult to comprehend
folks I care for being so morally poor.

I received an accommodation
a "badge" of merit, if you will;

Try buttering bread naked, and precariously clumsy.
Invite a mate, one unopposed to a little spillage,
and without the best selling brand of paper towels,
buttered bread, buttered bread, have some fun,
feed a friend.

It's time I rake the leaves outside
so now I'll go and get the rake
at the insistence of my bride
and for propriety's sole sake

I'll rake leaves into small piles about
under the swing and old grape vine arbor
working beneath warm autumn sunshine
a yearly necessary labor

Soon wiping sweat from wrinkled brow
muscles loosened from the work
I survey a job well done
and get a drink of tea

Theatrical Thesis…

Two lines into a poet’s song can say more
to me than a thousand preachers preaching
like the speed of light is invariably faster
than sound from a thousand tyres screeching.

So please switch on the light at speed,
as I have only one minute in mind.
As all of you know the worlds great need,
is for people to be more tolerant and kind.

dream trickles down
like the damp wood
of the raceway

above the dark embrace
of the day we can hear
the birds

the soft mute rot of leaves
the silver backbone of
the glacial scar stone

and light falls down on
her face and eyes
the shadows easing
like camaflouge

beautiful and intense

When wrinkles start appearing
Getting deeper by the day
With liver spots accruing
And the hair is going grey
The early morning aches and pains
A stomach growing flabby
The crows feet and the flatulence
No wonder you feel crabby

The mountain stream, pure and cold flows
swiftly into pumpkin and juniper seeds and docile rivers
no higher than a knee,
and the river bends through
the painted earth and snakes its way into the myopic sea.

The bloodstone roots with childhood's end.
The moon, hanging loosely, shape-shifts into images,
clouds
blow away like old men puffing on hand-rolled cigars.

For us to gain freedom from ignorance
We mortgaged our houses to pay bills
That our young ones may read and write
And learn the ways of the west

It was a purpose worth dying for
That our offspring will be liberated
From burden of heavy taxation
So we starved to make ends meet

For us to realize our common goals
We made sacrifices, not to the ancient gods
But toiled like slaves to the imperial masters
That was the only way we had to go

So I'm not really sure whether to do this as a poem or a blog post but.... here we are. I've been working on using poetry with different medias in order to increase its accessibility to the general public, and to make it easier to digest for the MTV Jersey Shore generation (sadly, my generation). This latest piece I've been working on will be in an art installation in November. I am trying to make it the best that it can be. I've uploaded it to youtube and there will be a shiny blue link below this paragraph for you to check out.

There is a time in your life
When you go through a change
Now, that it's been  three months
I'm planning a men-o-pause party
For my fifty first birthday, yeah!

An operation removing tubes and organs
Bring men-o-pause on early
Making life free from reproducing, but
No matter the freedom to be free
Nothing compares to men-o-pause brought on naturally