Tag: poetry

O-So Robbed

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAYou thought that spirituality was the answer. You pursued. The banker buzzed by in a blur. You felt the dust cake your skin-as as you grew light inside. Friends were friends, but the needy were God.

O-So Robbed. A bathing suit hanging in the dark was too much for a man with lustful thoughts. Gone running down the beach, to be strolled and toiled, in the sun, by a chestnut Lolita . O-So Robbed. A bobbed wire fence ~ an invisible line. That line of demarcation rules. O-So Robbed. Stained glass, you stood in line. The illumination touched depths. You shared in love. O-So Robbed. Brothers Wolf, What! Crazy. Fall and spin, you never win. O-So Robbed. Shoes went away, with diamonds shining, waving good-bye. O-So Robbed. Children not chunky, new to the world. In a cotton field. Yo ho-heave ho. O-So Robbed.

As a happy bear, when Goldilocks arrives, and is in need; make the bed, put on the tea. Relax and enjoy.

 

Family Poem

Nicotine/Jelly Bean~Methadone and Beer

Lying eyes/Sullen mouth

A life that’s full of FEAR

Fresh air and Sunshine

Sparkling Eyes and Smiles

Filled with Grace and Spirit Lead

Who will guide us Through our Trials

The family that prayers together~stays together.

The family that drinks together~stinks together.

*yes, you may quote me on that”

Pipe Dreams

tap-study-1Exit the doorway. The patterns of life. Light leaks in darkness. The rhythm of textures. Concrete supporting the ripples of our thoughts.

Dreams + Drugs = A Drain

Photo by Noir

Twelve Years

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

a decade plus 2

days gone by

i don’t see you

wrinkles on my face

grandma in my head

words of wisdom

come and gone

i don’t hear you

i remember twelves years old

for me, your mama, now you

a dear, a vision, a wonder

sorry, i have to go

i hear my mother calling me

First World Christmas

images

First World Christmas

The days are creeping by. The lights are getting brighter. The drummer boy is marching. Angel is singing on high.
The winds blow the words of Christmas. Technology filters its theme. Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!
Jingle goes the sleigh bells of the south.
Her matriarch long gone.

Daddy’s dead way back when. His bones are naked and cold.
The bird will sing no more. Not that I will hear.
Sister stole the bird to secure her Christmas cheer.
Merry Christmas. Nevermore-Nevermore

Ring the bell for Christmas
Smile – and don’t forget to brush your teeth
Merry Christmas Merry Christmas

Three Blind Mice

Three blind mice
Delusional, Diplomatic, and Do-Do (pronounced doe doe)
See how they run
To his mama, to the stars and into walls
They all ran after the farmer’s wife
Who happened to be a surf photographer
She cut off their tails with a carving knife
Sounds violent, she shoots surfers and peace signs
You’ve never seen such a sight in your life
As the whole line up shooting you a bird
Three blind mice

I’ve seen the light-through the hole in my heart
That’s why I allowed myself to miss a great shot!
Too much bad ju ju
But, on the other hand, I have to wonder
What kind of artist am I to have missed that shot!
One seeking peace.

What a conundrum

Day One ~ ODE-Eye-Sea

Vogel Drei

Old bones dance like dragon’s teeth
little birds tweet of niggas, hate and whores
who would have thought such pretty birds
had such dirty mouths
with bones that are sponges
and wings that are clipped
the birds, they squawk
like gulls
with rotting fish hanging
from their gaping mouths
I have my spine
I have my orange crush
and under the burden of the sea
I am weightless
drifting
silent
and patient
as only time
can be

Coming at You

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAOne never knows what’s around the corner

What lies ahead

You thought you knew

Confident

In your laid back life with God

Duck!

Into the now

Because life

Facebook-and physics

is gathering speed

and it’s all

Coming at You

Mama Needs a New Pair of Shoes

Born Abstract

100_1138-shs2I WAS BORN ABSTRACT

in shades of grey

no sunshine – nor joy – no days to play

I was smothered by concrete

borders-boundries and rules

UNTIL ONE DAY

I was given the tools.

Colors sprang forth

Trees grew and bent

I laughed and I cried

I travelled and went.

To the land of the abstract

where I belong

filled with the spirit

singing my song.

Where the lilies bloom

No toil ~ No gloom

Follow your bliss, Miss

I WAS BORN ABSTRACT

* This painting is part of a mural, on my water tank, in Playa Avellanas, Costa Rica. It is the Rabbit Hole. I dream of having a special kind of surf camp there.