the D is a soft T
the B is a soft P
the G a soft K
the J even softer
Z a soft S
V a soft F
H a soft W
(o, yes it is!)
making L, M and N
a triplet set of purity
R and X have
personalities all their own,
the vowels, of course,
are the stars of the show
(but sometimes Y
scabs for E,
don't tell him i said)
these tools educated
our art to
communicate
letting us
simple monkeys
reach out.

simply maddening
is this thumping…
this stomping
grinding thunder
in my knees...
wearied as they
are too used

bottles and canned
pills promising
lack-lustre
aspirations and fancies
rich and brilliant.
this passenger seat
this cold blueness
this hole

a true blue-collar
ache

The full moon glows in the night
between dark trees glimmering bright
blankets of snowy clouds caught my sight

A rainbow circles the moon light
a star to the right of the lunar thus shines
among pillows of cottony clouds so white

Silence is broken....

Acorns falls between dying branches
disturbing presence peaceful quietness  
In darkness blissful shininess 

Frogs singing lullabies
melodies tunes under white skies
I hear the creatures joyous cries

Fear grasped my soul....

From tequila, and limes
to simpler times

when we were still finding our way;

thought we knew it all
we'd perpetually fall

taking the scenic route in life's maze.

We knew of no fear
while learning to steer

flying high by the seats of our pants;

we lived without care
considered each dare

we played hard, and we all learned to dance.

We sure had our fill
of good times, if you will

and each lesson truly played with our hearts;

No longer do ghosts haunt the graveyard stones
Their wraith-like bodies now sleep as their souls pass over
So who haunts these cities of the dead?
I am known by the dead, as The Collector

I wander the land where headstones lay
I walk slowly between them
Brushing my fingers ever so lightly across their granite tops
When I receive a sign, I stop

Heightened imaginations
stemmed from not owning a lot of things;

faith in God, and family
in a land where all were kings;

receiving all the blessings each life brings.

Each agenda far from hidden
we were the flock, and God the "word";

at a time of innovation
from pure genius to the absurd;

with the best soundtrack music ever heard.

Our skies, truly the limit
and our faith knew no bounds;

under the band named, Noland
we explored through music, and sounds;

Stamped out errors on vintage coins
a unique response to a phrase just turned.

Maybe a club only agoraphobics joins
or the number of times an Eskimo gets burned.

Several, icy-cold, mid-summer breezes
a moment so magical, it makes you aware;

even the causalities from unknown diseases
all of these things equal something, rare.

All my life I've tried to be unique
with my individuality defining me, too;

thinking out of the box, and resembling a freak,
yet proud my own signature still shined through.

Dance in the arms of the devil tonight
You’re lost in the shadows, kept out of sight
You followed him through the back door
Where I found you, looking for more

You sat on the cold concrete
You let his hands search and creep
You lay in his arms, he sings
“You could be everything…”

And oh, does god have a sound?
Like a child laughing loud,
Or the birds singing this morning
But no; everything means ‘everything’
And you wake up alone, discarded as nothing

The shadows in the dim lit alley
gave comfort to his mind
Killer stood with his knife at the ready
waiting for just the right kind

Eyes blinked in the gathering darkness
street cats, rats and mice
He was thinking about his stomach
a lean bad guy would be nice

Killer heard footsteps a'padding
a woman by the sound
There were others right behind her
but she didn't turn around

She was intent on looking for
the child she saw today
She knew the girl was hiding
in the darkened alleyway

between a breathe of reason,
balanced on the edge of time
I am released from your torment
so gathers a guard of honour

straight jacket in hand I wander
back and forth, wondering why forgiveness
once a given is now resolute to change mid game
falling on all and landing on none

the men in black are back on the cusp
of darkness, rolling back the hands I breathe
must I lose a love before reverence overlays my life
now death is the beginning ? life the prologue