Taking Stock
I can’t remember
was this the afternoon the
sun obscured my view?
was this the time I
needed to shade my eyes
with the flat of my hand?
some evenings I brace
myself for sol’s onslaught;
moving to another chair
would be too simple
instead, I squint and grumble
while sipping Merlot.
but I’m almost certain
that clouds obstructed
the rays yesterday,
and left me in peace
for once.
Again Americans
mourn the deaths of
those lost to
gun violence.
Again politicians
offer their thoughts
and prayers and
meaningless
platitudes
whilst simultaneously
pocketing what can only be
described as
blood money
courtesy of the
National Rifle
Association.
Again mothers mourn
the loss of children
and children mourn
the loss of parents
while those
lacking in
humanity worry that
Obama’s gonna
confiscate their
fucking
guns.
Don’t talk to
me of prayers on
one hand
and praise
guns on the
other.
Your hypocrisy
is exceeded
only by your
utter lack of
compassion.
POURED
poured the cabernet then poured out my heart
tongue loosened by a crush of grapes
uncorked, unbottled, unstoppered
all the metaphors for letting go
once begun there was no cessation
only an endless stream of oak-tinted red fueling grief-stricken confidences
three glasses in, laughter trickles from somewhere
i never knew there was a spider’s web in the lower left chamber of my heart, but hilarity precedes sadness and another pour goes ’round
spin little spider, spin.
Put my head on your shoulder
This feels so right
You don’t like to dance,
But maybe you might
Enjoy holding me close
While shuffling our feet
Kissing during the refrain
More on the downbeat.
I love you so much
That I forgot how to dance
That’s the truest love
The biggest romance.
But sometimes I wish
That you’d welcome the chance
To take me in your arms
And initiate the dance.
A chance to pose naked
at my age
at this size!
what a concept
an opportunity to wag
my fifty-nine
year old ass at the
Republican National
Convention.
Take that Mr. Trump.
Don’t worry, I won’t take part in the great nude-in. Or will I? No, no, no. Butt….😉
Peace, people!
Wander treeless plain
Skirting cactus carefully
Prairie grasses wave
Broad blue Texas sky
Wrangling clouds into corrals
Get along, dogies!
Guardian windmill
Lighthouse without a beacon
Welcoming landmark.
crystal ball toting gypsies
cry cataclysm and none heed
as cassandra nods in ardent
sympathy and odd redemption.
call it age or wisdom
chalk it up to experience,
but I know what I know and
that I cannot know it all.
i threw away my soothsayer’s
tools, seeing clearly that
in your pride you’ll gladly
wallow in the dread luxury
throw us all under a red
double decker for the sake
of trampled feelings; an
injury we can not indulge
grow up, grow a pair, this
election is ours to lose
with ramifications beyond
our meager lifespans.
Some people light up the world. Not in a showy, boastful way, or a flashy, sassy way,
But in a deep down, soul-satisfying, love you with every beat of my heart kind of way.
Their spirits are so infused with goodness and grace that they make everyone around
Them feel important and valued and loved. My mother-in-law, Helen is one of these
Extraordinary people who can erase your fears with only words and a calming touch,
Whose faith and spirit make you glad to be alive and in her presence. Today we
Celebrate her being on this earth for eighty glorious years, and we hope for many
Many more.
I gain weight just thinking about food:
cheesecake
clam bake
cheese steak
for pete’s sake!
Where once I was skinny, pitifully so,
now I have ample hips and my bosom doth grow.
Bring me pizza and fried shrimp, pasta and fries, if I’m going to be fat I’ll feast on cream pies.
A size two times larger than last year’s clothes, I’m singing the blues and striking a pose.
Why in all other aspects is bigger deemed great, but a gain in weight is a terrible fate?
Woke to rain and the roar of thunder, real damned close, didn’t have to wonder
Mister Seger could’ve counted the seconds between lightning’s flash and the bassist’s
Rumble, but speculation is more poetic, and just maybe he was distracted by the
Lilac scented sky or the percussive rain on a lake and could not be bothered with
Enumerating the gaps. Here, the trees double as targets and shields, but the
Thunder’s reverberations echo through the morning forest and into my soul.
How about a little Bob Seger to start the day? Peace, y’all.
Praying for Eyebrowz 