Voices of doubts ridicule me
but I refuse to dance to their tune
for their words are a cacophony
that I have finally grown immune.

Where I fall, I will rise again,
Never ending this life with regret.
I know I have much to gain
if I strive hard and never fret.

To fail is to learn limitations
and to grow through experience.
Talking and planning, an incomplete mission
It's in doing one makes a difference..

DANCE MACABRE

Flowers at a Funeral Parlor:

the pungent odor of carnations
and the sickening decay of roses
that have had their day
no bouquet can stop
the lingering formaldehyde
from breaking through
to the Chanel Number 5….
an open casket emits
an odor of its own
and the mix is the Maker
of Nightmares of the Living Dead

Richard for Joe

I'm not saying she's a gold digger,
but the gold in her mouth didn't
get there miraculous.

I'm not saying she's a gold digger,
but the abundance of gold jewelry
in her boudoir didn't get their by chance.

I'm not saying she's a gold digger,
but the gold Mercedes she drive
didn't come from the land of oz.

I'm not saying she's a gold digger,
but the gold trimming on her white house
and picket fence didn't fall from heaven
like manna.

Sitting in the dark of night
floor lamp glowing near my shoulder
pen is poised prepared to write.
Time tics...night just gets older.

Ideas flit through empty head.
I've written of them all before
deepwoods dawn, an old homestead,
spring time chores, recluse's door.

Lined pages refuse to fill
and stare back at my tired eyes
while my pen hand remains still.
"Inspire me!" my muse cries.