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Thursday, April 06, 2017

Fog

I awaken every morning, wrangling all those wasted breaths from the malice ridden, tangled corpses of my lost attributes... My dreams always fixated on delusions of grandeur that seemed to have come and gone. I mourn what once was, and what can never be again... Looking into the dim abyss of my future is like looking into the night fog... The distant, weak light beckons me with its false pretenses... "Things will even be better than before!" It promises... And I almost believe it... Almost...

Monday, April 03, 2017

Life

What is life without love?
Without hope?
It's like aimlessly walking through the catacombs of disappointment...
Do not the fledgling flowers poke their heads out for the warm, spring sun? Yet I cower in the shadows of hopelessness...
Hiding from the rising sun in an idiotic defiance...
Walking through the maze on the same route every time. And every time, I hit the same wall...
Looks like I would learn, but I never do...

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Springs Touch

Only the most eager of young trees dawn their purples and light greens...
The old trees, in their wisdom, remain asleep...
Spring is a fickle season only lasting a couple of months. Unpredictable and fierce is the exit of winter...
The young eager trees reach out to the spring sun, only to have winters icey touch freeze them in the night...
And the old trees... Remain..
Asleep...

Monday, February 27, 2017

She 2

She is as cold as a marble statue, although the craftsmanship is sublime...
There is no emotion in her dead eyes. Does she belong in heaven, or is she mine?
She commands the clouds to lift, to reveal an auburn sky...
She screams at the innocent skies until they begin to cry...

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Birds

     Driving home, I noticed a row of birds fixed on a light pole. They were sitting in the light February rain; seemingly uninterested in the traffic below. The social constructs of the bird world seems so alien and simple by our high human standards. I wonder what it must be like to feel only in the most primal of instincts.To not worry about legacy nor mortality. I suppose politics and economics are foreign concepts when the wind is beneath your wings. Wars and protests are unknown when your beak is buried deep in the morning earth, searching for your breakfast. Being technically suave in a competitive work environment is not even a thought when you are soaring above it all. Updating your resume seems so trivial when you could be an owls snack at any time. Then again, I envy those little birds perched high above the busy highway, with the power to simply fly away to wherever the wind may carry them.

Friday, February 10, 2017

Mornings



Dreams of nonsense drip from my weary eyes like candle wax. The shimmering full moon reflects off my coffee cup as I stagger through the predawn mist. Remnants of the night are written profoundly within the deep pillow imprints on my forehead. My messy hair and stubbly face greet me in the toothpaste spattered mirror. Twenty three long minutes until that annoying alarm makes itself heard. And the cool, dark morning begins again. The TV flickers in the dark living room; local news of a new murder. It's these quite moments before the roar of finding shoes, backpacks, and homework... Those few moments sitting outside with my coffee in the cold moonlight... Trying to decipher last nights incoherent dreams... That moment of fuzzy clarity... Caught between sleep and chaos... Ah, my precious mornings...

Monday, January 30, 2017

Old Dog

     I have a little, old dog... I know the humane thing to do is to put him down, but I haven't the heart for that. Senility has set in, and he sometimes stands and stares at the wall for no apparent reason. What is he looking at? Sometimes I think he's looking at the other side. What if he is? What does my little dog see? Perhaps I have too much time to contemplate such things, but when you have time, you pontificate on the most innate things. I think he's half blind and deaf at this late stage, so it could be just old age, but perhaps he sees something I cannot... Doggy heaven? Is that the same as human heaven? I would love a 10 minute conversation with my ailing, old dog... We could trade stories of madness...

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I am student of life, father, poet, published author, musician, and a part-time philosopher.