“I’ll always take what you say, with a pinch of salt”
This, She said to me without a touch of the iron
Required to wrinkle out the truth, which belies a Mother’s belief
At twenty thousand miles of distance and grief

Only time that drains her voice of tune once held
At the other end, can be felt, that strength
Which once admonished so stoutly, now
Furrows a condescending prow, two oceans distance

The plane
ascends,
its shadow
- smaller 
and smaller -
finally melts.

My smile 
grows larger
than my body.

The road curls
between snow banks.

Cars are beads of sweat
on the mountain's chest.

Sun dives
through opaque
clouds and smirks.

Shoulders
weighted down --
wet snow on old firs.

I glide,
slide and drop
dancing with birds.

Sudden,
quiet tumble,
heels over head.

I look to the west,
nature dressed in it's best,
setting sun, day not done,
as Millcreek rambles on,
still water, glass mirror,
so clear, it couldn't get clearer,
wind gusts, ripples thrust,
ripples ripple, water jiggles,
the clearness stills away,
your life reflection in dissection,
seeking purpose and direction,
from obscure disparity,
to joyful clarity,
a new day, a new look view,
hard days soon to be few,
so as the ripples become still,
a new reflection, a new future to fill.

Slender
Green stalks wave
Bright heads bobbing

Showers
Cleansing me
Fence post hanger

Sky-light
Sparks of fire
The heavens call

Thunder
Raining hard
Flooded creek

Black dirt
Smelling bad
Skeletal skull

Ebon night
Scary howl
Immense anger

Dark skies
Shadows haunt
Muddy waters

Brown clay
Stuffy nose
Broken down nag

Foggy
Silent ear
Emotionless

Sunshine
Cobalt blue
Floating on clouds

Green field
Sweet scented
Centaur hoof-prints

I saw
I heard it
Feeling happy

She has long hair,
Her hair flows through the air,
Her hair shields her eyes,
So her emotions remain trapped inside,

He has short hair,
His hair just sits there,
It shows clearly his face,
His emotions are on display,
With all there beauty and grace,

She has no hair on her head,
She is bald instead,
But her emotions are still trapped inside,
Her feelings she tries to hind,
She's loosing her mind ...
and her life

Killer
Murdering
Gastronomics

Soulful
Southern Soles
Steeped in soy sauce

Arranged
Artfully
Assuming Airs

Hangin' Van Gogh,
out at the French Chateau,
palates all been dressed,
just to construct this mess,
burgundy red to Royal blue,
portray ruling societies true virtue,
hangin' Van Gogh.

Now you know this Van Gogh,
he felt kinda low,
brush strokes rigid, direct,
softening to near perfect,
his crimson's bled, society's bed,
his brush dipped in pain,
such excess, insane.
He saw beauty in all that waste,
high society not his taste,
hangin' Van Gogh.

Driving down the road in my car,
on the sidewalk, I saw a star,
moving, he was groovin' to a tune,
on a sunny, sunny afternoon,
in a state of locomotion,
in his dance devotion,
high stepping down the block,
he glided above the walk,
walking fast with a purpose,
displaying a energy surplus,
headphones keeping out the traffic racket,
always wearing a hoodie jacket,
sporting Ray Charles sunglasses,
entertaining the stuck in traffic masses,
ke was known as Dancing Dan,
dancing like nobody can,

For The Faithful

In this world
where love can be a lie,
sometimes sacrifices
end with a painful goodbye.

Must we turn our faces away,
allowing despair to steal our smiles
when it will lead us astray
and leave us with a taste so vile.

Why let heartbreakers win
after they have offered treachery?
Leave them with their sin
for they don't have honesty.