January 7, 2010

Friend to some, death to others.
Wiping tears, erasing bothers.
Liquid in a dirty glass,
Filling emptiness, betraying class.
A haze so lovely, ne’re to care,
What distances my eyes do stare.
Making friends of ragged strangers,
Not caring.
Nameless dangers.
Friends, it seems I’ve lived for naught,
F**k it! Just pour another shot!


December 28, 2009

Slowly creeping into my eyes, turning them down.
Time’s weight wrinkles my youthful shine.
I didn’t see it happen, I didn’t know or care.
Until I looked in a young man’s eyes and saw an old man there.

I didn’t feel it coming.
In fact, I feel quite the same!
What is age really?
A word, or just a name?

I look into my father’s eyes,
And he seems old to me.
Does he look into another’s,
For their age to see?

When does youth become a thing that we feel must be chased?
Who started this event, this competition, this race?

This time is mine, not yours to take with your soulful glances into my eyes.
I like these wrinkles! They are youth, with experience!


December 22, 2009

I step into quicksand that is pulling me down.
The harder I struggle the more I am mired.
I can’t free myself alone.

Can you see or is this an invisible trap?
Must I cry out loud for you to help?
I can’t free myself alone.

You go about your daily routine,
Mindlessly you pass me by.
I can’t free myself alone.

My will weakens, my spirit falters.
I see the answer in your eyes.
I am alone.

“I Believe”

December 19, 2009

“I believe, Daddy. I know others in my class don’t, but I do. You wouldn’t lie to me!”

I am floored by this indictment. He misses my downturned eyes and pained smile.

“I am lying to you, son.” I think to myself.

What to do? Is there a parenting handbook for explaining how to turn fantasy into reality? Why I wasn’t really lying?

He makes me think, “What else have I lied to him about? What future explanations are coming?”

Why did I break trust to continue tradition? Why can’t I be open and true with my own son? No, it’s not that hard, I can handle this one, the small ones. But, what about the bigger ones?

The changing face of love. The lies of your own heart. Your strong faith and then your, just as strong, doubt. Happily ever after. My unwavering convictions and lack of fear. I think I might be able to go on all day!

I am a liar!

I never intended for this to be true. I wanted to be a protecter and defender, but I have failed. I must change, but I also must balance innocence with the need for truth.

Amidst the lies of my own life, I must figure out the truth. I must not fail as I was failed. I must cast doubt into his innocence. I must plant these seeds to build his resiliency. I must teach him to look for himself!


Please don’t look too hard, son, I don’t want to scare you with my unmasked self!

A Lion Dies

December 19, 2009

When the heart is tamed, a lion dies.
Young men’s dreams of lovely wives,
End in ugly twisted lies.
Nothing but useless lives.

Tiger’s Tale

December 17, 2009

A faithful husband will deny
The catching of another’s eye.
But somewhere deep within the soul,
Burns another troubling hole.
For man’s a beast best left un-tethered,
Free from chains that leave him weathered.

Society says we must commit.
Hide your longings, yourself omit.
Serve the Lord, family and friend,
Suppress the lust that brings our end.
Silently in the night we cry,
For lovely creatures that catch our eye!

Mind Pollution?

December 17, 2009

A thought, a glimpse. The solution?
Damn its gone! Mind pollution?

I know, I think, oh, not again!
It’s slipped, it’s fled, off it ran!

A mind’s a trap or so they say,
But mine seems a sieve today.

The shame of losing answers to the trouble,
Is gaining it again to lose it double.

My pen or hand seems too slow,
I write, but then I think, oh no!

I could solve the worlds problems forever,
If my mind and hand just worked together!

Readin’ n Writin’

December 16, 2009

I have always loved reading! Since I was a boy, I enjoyed being carried away by the imagination of others put into novel form. Finding a new author is like discovering an uncharted land. I am constantly amazed by the quality of work hidden among the volumes of books in my local book store.

Reading has always been an escape for me, a comfortable routine. The process itself is important. A comfortable chair, the right light and a hardcover book minus the dustcover. It is a sensual experience. The smell, feel and the images formed in my mind all work together to create the memories of the author’s work. A great work is a time machine transporting me hours into the future without knowledge of the passing time. The end of the book is triumph and melancholy together.

Recently, my routine has been upset. I never gave much thought to computer blogs. I don’t particularly like reading on a computer screen. It’s just not the same. The smell and feel of a book is lost to awkward keys, mousepads and screen lighting. Several months ago, in between books, I started reading some opinions on WordPress. The quality of work is outstanding!

I started with the munchkinwrangler.His writing is intriguing and his “incite” is eloquant. He renewed my interest in writing by showing the process he uses for his work. From his recommendation, I purchased a fountain pen and have written in my journal every day since. His blog is now a daily destination.

I have always loved poetry and stumbled onto the poettraveler. The writing on this website is at times beautiful, technical and usually both. When a single poem leaves you imagining the characters backstory, the author has accomplished their goal. Another daily read.

Therein lies the problem. The quality of work I am finding on the net limits the amount of reading I can do in one day and still carry on with my “paying job”. I used to laugh quietly to myself when I saw someone reading ‘blogs on the net’, but I think I have been sucked into the whirlwind. A credit to the quality of the writing I have found.

Along with reading, I love writing. I cringe at the thought of being harshly judged, but enjoy the process just the same. Funny, but from my very first post, I understood while blogging is so popular. It is the thought that you just may do for others, what past writers have done for you.

Reading and writing are very private acts. Not only a window into who you are, but how you became that way. I have come to realize that blogging is, at times, an act of bravery. Exposing who you are, to see if others feel the same.


December 15, 2009

You cut me!
Words, but a cut all the same.
Rather steel to my skin than your sharpened wit.
My sword is my anger,
Lashing out to defend your attack.
Anger always wins.
My hollow victory celebrated by loneliness.

Slipping Away

December 13, 2009

I did not plan for this to happen.
In fact, my younger self could not have imagined this age.
Forty seems like a long time, but I still feel young.

I sometimes long for the glorious battles I dreamed in youth,
Fighting evil with my righteous might.

I still have the feeling of righteousness, but the might part is slipping away.
Like all true warriors, I try to hold on. I work my body with weights and exercise.
My protégés tell me I look good…..for a forty year old.

They’ll follow me, but for how long? When do I stop leading from the front? Or worse yet, when do they push me to the rear?

I still can’t imagine losing. But I lose a little bit every day.