Saturday, December 15, 2012


They say 20 young sprouts
were cut down in pre- bloom
for fools know nothing of seeds
or a stone thrown
to still waters

history will only record
the bottom line, and time
will forget the missing links

little Mary was going to be
a firefighter
saving seven children
from a burning house
and the children's children

Steven would've shared the Nobel
for curing cancer
Tammy would have flown in
under heavy fire, against the orders
to rescue 27 wounded comrades
pinned down

Tommy was going to counsel
those with aids
Sarah? a politician who
finally got it right
Billy would build shelters while
Linda performed surgery at Mayo

some would be poets and singers
one or two, teachers nurturing
a new garden of growth
and Corrine would have 10 children
who would have 23
who would have 59

now, all that is gone
and history a liar as
thousands of thousands
disappeared in the spiral
of the twisting wreckage

and the rest of us
are wounded forever
as one cannot exist
separate from society

we share the air, the parks
the fields, our dreams
our hope and our lives
and no one, falls alone

do the math
feel the ripple

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Santa ain't right

Look out! Look out!
he's flyin the Big Jet Blue
cracked himself a beer,
slapped Mrs. Farnnigan silly
and slid down the chute

the papers are gonna love this one!

there he goes
up on the tower
run for cover!
he's locked and loaded
full rock and roll!

children scream,
mother's wail
Wally's tavern locks the doors
and tips the taps

he's in Wal-Mart now
chewing the heads off Barbies
and Easy Bakin at 425

maybe it's all those letters
too much love
those annoying elfs
and that whiny Rudolph
with the red schnocker

doesn't really matter
Santa's gone postal
and no one is safe

I saw momma piss off Santa Claus
beneath the mistletoe
last Friday night

oh, what peace there might have been
if momma had given in
but now Santa Claus is wrapped
too tight!

Wednesday, December 12, 2012


Well, that's it.
Blogger in it's infinite wisdom has declared me the spam king, and seeing as the only human being associated with blogger is apparently holed up in a cave in Afghanistan, I'm fucked.
Any comments I leave now go directly to the blog's spam dungeon, and let's face it, who ever goes there?
My guess is that some mean-spirited fellow blogger who isn't too keen on me reported me as a spammer, but who knows! Blogger doesn't need help to screw up.
I would like to thank all the wonderful friends I've known through this blog. A few come to mind, Annie, Sara, Margaret, Kelli, Joy, a couple Audrey's, Carrie, Grace, and of course, Verena, who has always supported my writing. There are many others who dropped by now and then with kind words and I appreciated every one.
Thank you all!
I'll still be reading all of your wonderful poems and stories, I just can't comment to them.
Gotta go now, the blogger cops are beating on my door and I have'nt finished flushing the evidence.
Take care, all, and thank you, again

Friday, December 7, 2012

I miss them

when i was young, i had eyes
hundred watt bulbs
in forty watt sockets

these eyes, they could see
whatever my heart believed
and i followed them
losing doubt in the chase

fences became possibilities
through a greater vision
filled with light

they saw oceans to be sailed
mountains i could climb
girls i could kiss
and a me, without limits

but the Sun, they say
will burn out
and so as well
the eyes of the aged

walking now
in the shadow's long length
i miss bargains i could not keep
and the eyes i failed
to feed

Monday, December 3, 2012

Knowing Me

i walked the pier today
the city skyline just beyond the ships
and for a moment, as the blaze yellow
shot across the cold waves
i knew me

i was on the ship
in the water, walking
the city street

all at once
yet not at all

last week
it was a rocky ledge
high above
the forgotten river

or the old farm
frozen in time
the crop of regret
growing wild
beside shuttered trees
just bones

the train
barely an echo
over the shoulder
looks back and

i don't know me
who i am, what i am
where i came from
where i'm going

every now and then
when places meet time
and i just happen by
to see me there
in death like
looking for form