Free
There’s nothing better
than being a writer
heaving paint
on canvas of life
mini dribs and drabs
and splashes of color
seeing things
only you can see
flowing into
wayward streams
slinging handfuls
of light
honing words
to sharp edges
uncovering
passion and lust
saying what
you mean
or leaving
gaps for
interpretation
screaming thoughts
in lightning bolts
twisted endings
emerging ideas
spirited words
aimed at target
tidal outflow
splitting to
form new bodies
of misty vision.
I write as I please
say what I want
don’t get paid
no chained words
I’m free at last!
Moments of Meaning
Time is a commodity
A currency
That can't be bartered
Or borrowed
We steal it in quick spurts
Along the paths
We are given
No marker exists
Indicating where those paths
Might travel or where
They will end
There are only precious moments
Remembered
Along the way
Like snapshots pasted
Along the continuum
Of the universe
That give us
Some sense of meaning
In our flash of existence
Within cosmic time
Seasons
time-marked, tumbled, four in one
equinox or solstice setting pace
round and round we post our changing face
wondrously, winter crafts crystal columns bold
shyly, spring-soft births anew to earth unfold
sternly, summer blasts with scorching rays of gold
fondly, fall refills our hopeful harvest hold
mindful of these scorings as we brace
year by year with ever-aging grace
time-marked, tumbled, four in one
First attempt at a symetrelle
Threadbare Hours
Roaming in somber bowels of night
jaded eyes unable to sleep
faded streets leading nowhere
looking for junkie ‘fix’ on life
roads winding perilously close to truth
broken pavement of sin and sorrow
prostitutes in thigh high skirts of failure
ragged children holding out filthy hands
garbage smells and littered people
plaintive cries without resolution
not enough moments to change world
can’t wind mangled clocks back in time
pain ingrained in threadbare hours.
Of Two Minds
I regret
The nightmares that come
Each night
Filled with torture
And violence
And hate
I despise that my mind
Conjures up
All the feelings
And prejudices
I steadfastly disavow
In my waking moments
To fill my nighttime thoughts
And I wonder
What does that make me
That my mind cannot be true
In darkness
To the actions I hold so dear
In light
We all have demons
I know
That reside within the
Deepest recesses of our
Subconscious minds
Do those that make
My thoughts their
Nighttime haunt
Make me any different
Any worse
Than anyone else
