What to Wear?

A quarter Life left to live,
if that,
Three quarters behind me,
blindly searching
trying to find an indiscernible
joy thinking it was there,
somewhere.

A touch of wisdom now prevails
understanding better the balance
of life, it’s reality
somewhat juxtaposed in space,
in the universe

I’ve had time to look
in the chest of drawer where
the attire of life is stored
Have segregated that
which I can wear and that
which I cannot.

Now that age has lassoed
my physical growth
I must put aside that which
no longer fits
Look around, try on
and choose what's best suited.

My tastes have changed,
my selfish view has also
My discredited needs have been
hemmed and been redressed
No longer must I search
for how I must dress,
it is seamless and before me

Welcome the dawn
of my Autumn
I am now dressed
appropriately for you

Lonely Gallery

Today, a second day
of moping
Yesterday I realized
my words were no longer
being read
When once they were
my conduit of expression,
my catharsis.
There were those that shared
my mind, my heart and would
share with me their’s
No longer do they seem
to hear me laugh or sing
share my day time reverie
or night time dreams
They seem to care no
longer for when I’m lonely
or hear my tear drops fall
The pain and angst I feel
of unfulfilled social causes
fill my book of writ
They no longer tease or
have anywhere to go
My words are sprawled about,
strewn, complacent, now
apathetically floating in cyberspace
Used to use their colors
to paint the pictures
on my life’s canvas
But what’s the use
if no one visits my gallery
I may not be a Matisse
or Vincent van Gogh,
appealing or not
but just the visit,
someone just to care

Dare I Welcome

Dare I welcome your embrace
though I’ve gone through many a phase
instilled with a belief based on faith
unknowing and of whence the truth
accepting the promise of ultimate grace

My earthbound heart abounds with hope
wishing the soul be led into heaven’s gate
whose rendering is cast by the hand
of a loving maker that treasures humankind

My hope is that our journey’s destiny
encapsulates the ever changing beauty
shared in this earthbound life
and will provide a loving hand
to those who had not much

I fear not my departure
from this mundane existence
all I ask, if at all possible,
that I be held by the hand of Love
and with the other, hold
the hand of those that shared it
with me

Welcome, New Year

The fresh Spring gave pleasure
of new birth to my eyes,
my sense of smell delighted
in the aroma of Nature’s breath

the summer sun caramelized me,
the wind and ocean tide
blew my hair, the cool sea brine water
cleansed the sand away,
I stood naked in relative significance
not unlike the ocean waves splashing
against the cliffs applauding the seagull’s
riding the wind

The fall dressed me in Autumn reds,
while robins, wrens made their beds
knowing a cool breeze from the north
would soon coat with white the homes,
accost our finger tips our toes
with bites of frost and numbness,
resent the abandonment of the warm

This conical of vision
and small web of existence
is my denizen, built and moldedpro
every year by all that shares
my abode, melded into my
realm of wonton change
volitional prescribed proscription
not unlike anyone else’s
of common cognition

A year is but a window into Life
composed into a time piece
by our forefathers to reflect upon
their mundane accomplishments,
attempting to cheat the darkness
with light wanting to manage
the seasons and sleep

I smile when spring appears
I am that summer sun,
the changing colors of the fall,
together melded in this conical vision
through all my aging years

Let’s feed our hungry
give to the poor,
speak of world wide calming,
start a new calendar
by our commitment to ending ‘war’.

Pondering

Pondering in the early dawn
looking out the window
overlooks a birdbath
where a crimson red cardinal perches
also a large blue and white blue jay
both have crowns on their heads
wonder if I have one

A grey cool mist has settled
tiptoeing on the grass
grasping the trees like a veil
strange that their’s no pristine
cover of white upon this landscape
on Christmas Day

A log is crackling with
blue yellow red flames
bursting of freedom
in my fireplace
soothed by soft vocals from
songstresses coming out of a music box

If this be the last Christmas
last Hanukkah, last Holiday,
called for by philosopher kings
and ancient calendar makers
then let their be calm and peace,
sated bellies, warm embraces,
Love

Two Hearts in Delight

Can I reach into your heart
for just a moment and feel
it’s palpitations

wander into your soul
and feel the spirit of
your giving not as
nebulous as it’s portrayed

Can I touch the softness
of your skin pressed against
my cheek and as my lips
warmly challenge yours

then whisper those little
words that become
truly so large in the imprint
they leave behind

If you let me
I’ll brush your hair back
taking pleasure in your eyes
as they peer deep into mine
noticing Love
emote from my heart

Walk with me by my side
from the dawn of sunlight
till crimson dusk of day
let those that might see us
share in the delight
of Love at play

And the moon gives
the night a romantic insight
and the stars begin to dance
providing you and I
gentle memories of
two hearts in flight

The Quiet of Life

Sometimes I take your heart to task
your souls aghast
your mind to the undesirable past

Life is not, all
chocolate filled cherries
some will have their pits

We all want that golden sun
to awaken our morning eyes
with the sound of an aviary
when we rise

But once we open our eyes
we must face the storms
that sometimes fill the Sky’s

We choose to read
the sweet poetic words
and listen only to music’s
mellifluous sounds

when words read not to our choosing
and a note is dissonant or flat
we close our eyes
cover our ears

John Lennon’s ‘…Imagine, there’s no Heaven,
there’s no Hell…’, then;
roaring ocean waves would not be feared
but be viewed like the harrowing of soil
needed for new growth in Spring

We should embrace the storm
for then will come the calm,
when there's pain and angst
then comes appreciation of
it's cessation, then,
quiet and health

Do not shush me,
turn your eyes
or cover your ears,
share me with others,
I am Life

Welcome Home

If I say to you, 'thank you'
do you hear me through your pain
your flashbacks still haunt you
beyond the patriotic refrain

My return back in the seventies
not a voice or hand extended
lungs still filled with agent orange
and the napalm smell offended

inculcated surreptitious motivations
of sacrifices upholding liberties
Communism, arms of mass destruction
fear replaces truth's entreaties

trust is garnered by a leader
from sons, daughters, husbands, wives
to dispense an ideology of democracy
interfering in a nation's sovereignty,
asking for the sacrifice of lives

we bring them home from hell
a feigned handshake and nod
give them alcohol and a pain pill
without insurance or a job

we bring them back to families
whose children now have grown
sitting at their dining table
surrounded by little faces now unknown

we've now brought them back
another war wrapped in a lie
how many more Vietnams and Iraqs
so much more 'life' must die

the world view of America
is hypocracy of Christianity
conjuring reasons for making war
and our politicians saying to our soldiers,
an unrepentant, 'Welcome Home'

Brrrr

Even though my ears are being warmed
by my folded arms up covering them
the edges and the lobes are bitter numb,
forearms have forgotten feeling,
fingers immobile frozen stiff,
underneath me pebbles and stones
feel like jagged boulders
pressed against my side and back
From below, my belt loops feel
like fence links with my
pants stiff of piss and shit
like medieval jousting wear
warmed only when relieving myself
down to my socks rolled over
the tops of my shoes frozen
by sweat and yesterday's relief
over the laces crusting them
permanently tied till Spring
I reminisce of the secure warmth
as my buddy and I waded in the Mekong 'bush'
before the ugly 'swish and plup' sound
from a AK-47 found him, not me
These days are freezing cold even as
shards of warm sun pierce down
giving an occasional ray of hope
The black of night comes colder still
with that insidious veil of fear
of not seeing another sunrise
not seeing my buddy or those
who once shared my love
Will they know how cold
my last minutes were,
when my last breath hovers
as frosted vapors carrying my soul,
rising from this 'cold' Earth?

Where I've Been

walked in Life’s flower garden
stepped carefully
but not quietly
left footprints where I’d been
knowing that time,
the sun, the moon, the wind
would corrode the imprints
I had left behind
others would walk
leaving their foot prints
atop mine
and through all this
before time forgets my
being there and other
footsteps cover mine
I hope someone
will look down
in this flower bed
asking of my steppings:
whence he’s come
and to where’s he gone

Smile, At Least

Today I gave
not money
But a heartfelt thought
a smile

Hope you accept my gift
I have no money but
I do have a large trunk
of gifts in my heart

I will say
only nice things
about you
my brother, my sister

When you rise today
be not afraid of
what I’ve said
I will pass along
only good things

I must ask
of you
the same

Make this
a true holiday
and pass it forward

Innocence Lost

Come back to me
a memory where there was
the pureness of gaiety

smiling while running
traversing the fields
the empty lots

scrapes on my arm
my knees, hands
thanks for t-shirts

'Scar', my first American book
first drawing, 'the Virgin Mary'
my first love poem

warm shy gentleness
of a girls hand in mine
first cheek kiss

campfire, 'Sleepy Hollow'
showing off, guitar prowess
infatuation, my teacher, older woman

Beatle’s haircut, singer in a band
mixer with girls
Ahhh! Kiss on lips

sports, football quarterback
dating, sex (ooohhh)
cars

Vietnam War draft, Yuk!!!
fear, fear, carnage and Death
naivete, innocence lost

snob

entering into the realm of creative expression
is like entering a forest of wild flowers and fauna
the sentient artist steps carefully and observes
non-intrusively supplanting oneself in the wonderment

expressing through melody and instrument
or through word with rhyme
a canvas of colors
portrayed in a moment in time

the artist is the conduit
to the aesthetics of life
providing the human spirit
with momentary pleasures
interrupting mundane strife

but like other coteries
developed in societies
members become elitists
thinking themselves ’better’
creating their own pieties

skill-sets formed from academia
regurgitating strict paradigm
disavowing nontraditional line
of those choosing an unwillingness to rhyme
restrict creativity and new flowers blooming
in the forests of our children’s time

do not shun them
or ignore them
listen to their music
listen to the words
for all have something to say
keep eyes and ears open
all people are artists
and everyone must have their day

Ride a Nebulus Sky

gossamer wings ride the quiet wind
amidst the nebulae sky
hovers unheard unseen
the wind blows hard
it flounders
but stays adrift

all else below
seems anchored and stable
yet immobile, inflexible
doesn’t move in the wind
its vision limited
knows not what lies beyond

rules regulate
the physical limits
staying within the lines
a smile from the heart
breaks down borders

Life’s winds gust
press against my frail wings
gently I ride it’s angered might
I fear not it’s approach
I do fear being anchored

I smile while I ride the wind

Oh, Before I Forget

Suns, rainy days

Snows

Daisies, purple passions

Walks holding hands

Joy, tears, fears, hugs

Friends come and go

Oh, before I forget

Large mountains never ending skies

fingers in streams running cold

Tapestry of marigolds

Blue, gold, red and purple colors

Donkey-ear deer

Bald Eagles soar

Twelve thousand feet

Near the sky

Friends come and go

Oh, before I forget

Waves over starboard

Over stern

Tall masts tickling cotton feet

hanging from the sky

Crimson cheeks of morning skies

Seagull salient cries

Your head resting

Counting my heartbeats

Friends come and go

Oh, before I forget

tortillas rolled with sweat

Waft; frijoles, cilantro, onions, cumin

Mamasita then quietly leaves

Incessant tears, deep heart pain

Hugging, holding frequents

We've years with each other

Aging, time, not a friend

Friends come and go

Oh, before I forget

I love you

Did I forget something?

Oh, before I forget

I Love You

Wandering, my Heart

Today, right now, at this moment
I’m wandering in the wanderings
of my heart

The journeys I’ve never taken
the steps I’ve never walked
but those I’ve always
wanted to

Listening to the sultry vocals
and piano prowess of Diana Krall
how the wind swirls
around the hills in Rio
where Jesus with open arms
watches over it’s rivers
and valley’s and ocean side

My wanderings take me
into a reverie
of the warm moist touch
her hand in mine
feeling the pulse of our hearts
beating in rhyme

Into the arms of Mother’s bosom
where not often enough
did she hold me
before she wandered onto
Heaven’s path

The ghost like fingers of the Sun
reach through my window pane
gently touch the nape of my neck
waking me from my wanderings

Nature’s soft awakening reminds me
of how life still abounds
dressed in flora and fauna
awaiting my embrace and gathering
of my future wanderings

But for this moment
I’ve escaped the
tears and pangs of
my Life’s disdains

Sound of Paper Lunch Bags

The many voices peacefully gather
utilizing a means provided, freedom
to assemble by the long talked about
understood rights and liberties
freedom to speak about parity, equity
hope, dreams and aspirations
promised by the authors of
our forefathers and those empowered
Used to watch these gatherings
on television that seemed to come from lands
far away which caused introspection
wondering how sad how unenviable

Today received a single paper slip, a notice
I can now watch more TV at home
‘temporarily’ not needed at work
soon my TV no longer works, either
Can’t afford to repair or a new one
My car is not running
no money for gasoline anyway
Unemployment check is used to feed
my children and warm the house
I now wave, sadly,in the am at my children
in the school bus that has replaced
our bonding ride to school,
miss my kids bantering, sounds of lunch bags
in the back seat of our car
Warm soup and bread for dinner
can’t afford paper for the resume
On the TV at the corner coffee shop
'...Wall Street companies make record profits'
'...Congress can’t tax these companies
they’re the job creators'
Why don’t they give me a job
If we tax these Wall Street companies
they might not donate to Congressmen
Oh, those are the 'created' jobs they’re talking about
Have to run home, soup on the stove,
school bus coming, hope I don’t get sick
no work insurance

Tomorrow I’ll walk down another block in town
I’ll find a job

I Treasure You Still

When you take time to look at me
You don’t hear me speak
But you look at me anyway
What do you see?


Am I still a soft and gentle memory
Full of your life in me
Will you touch me, feel me
Have your way with me


Still think of me with pleasure
Not with judgmental eyes or measure
Can you care for me again
The way you once did


Am I still your Knight in shining armor
Or am I smudged, my sword dull
Is my white stallion no longer impressive to you
Will you ride with me again?


If you take time again to look at me
Peer into my eyes and see the reflection of what I see
You will notice a shiny golden fleece
That has never dulled in measure
Since when first I saw you, my Treasure

Nocturne

When you wake up in the morning
will you gently touch my hand
so my eyes open and share
the days beginnings
as the crimson morning sunlight
reflects from your hair

Like the warmth we shared
last night when your face
pressed against mine
and our eyes closed together
wandering into Love’s abyss
Oh yes, and then there was that
sensual lust filled kiss

I wish it to go on
beyond the crumbled beddings
and the pillow on the floor
that still hold the words
we whispered in each other's ears
and our warm breath hovered
while our lips gently touched
our tongues wrestling
to dominate the other's

The world outside this window
knew not of what we
spoke last night
nor did it hear
our bodies grunts and groans
intertwining into each other's loins
dismissing for some moments
all the goings of worldly woes

The crescent moon cast
shadows of our conjoined
bodies on the wall
a seductive temptress view
curtains left un-drawn
vapors rise from two bodies
in a dance askew

And as we pay required attention
to the day, we anxiously await
the lust of tangled beddings,
the warmth of moisture
between our legs and
a new Moon smiling
upon our shadows
once again

Days of Yore

The contemplative mind
hovers silently
on an Autumn day

observes the verdant dress
turn to gold and red
fall away

Reminds one of
the cycle of life
adrift from
day to day

Tears fall
from the heart
quietly of
yesterday

Music assuages
the pain
rides away

and the faces
no longer present
ride this wave

soon I shall
join them
the red and gold
shall no longer
portray days of yore