There is no lack in you

And you have discovered
And
Continue to uncover,
Imagery and metaphor
That only you uniquely
Can share with the world

If however you choose
To silence your pen,
Then the world would be at a loss....

There are among us,
Many scientists,
Who have expressed themselves in verse?
Wonderful poetry and fiction...
It is a known territory
And a very open road

Each of us humans
has a pleasure center
somewhere in our brain

It gets tickled
or stimulated
when we see an ad
for something we think
we'd like
and, then it really gets a charge
when we slap down
the payment,
and assume ownership

But, that feeling
can fade
and the pleasure center
craves something more,
another tickling,
and we go on
looking
and living

A pile of stones beside a field
of an abandoned , washed out farm
now bramble and brier its only yield.
A near deer snorts out its alarm.

A barn in collapse across the way
the forgotten victim of neglect
that once was full of life and hay
now bats are all it can collect.

Old rusted worn out rakes and plows
good now for naught but scrap
once created pastures for fat cows
discarded like a vague mishap.

The snow is here now
everything is so much brighter
but the cold is fierce

My children are drowning
in plastic
and I can't seem
to stem the tide
while they're hypnotised
by bullshit
I'm dying a little
inside

I'm networking
instead of
parenting

I'm raising automatons

My children are brainwashed
with apathy
made to look 'pretty'
told what to do
what to say
and I'm ashamed
a little bit more
everyday

I'm thinking
when I should be
listening

.
waxing rhapsodic
gilded actor of the quill
writing beautiful lies
just for the thrill

two joined, separated
a brother now one
and his brother's friend
a friend that loved
filled that emptiness
that hearth and home
could not mend
one fateful day
their ways crossed
to wayward wend

what tears run streaks
on your redded cheeks
why the furtive pulse
in your eyes it shows
so plain a plan
to bring him back
though a means to do
so sorely lack

A fog settles upon these shoulders
the cape that sweeps across the plains
the biting wind sings its wailing dirge
whose fingers pluck and scrape and snap

Once upon a breath so dreary
the banal landscape stripped away
a peril hunched in fitful slumber
morning promise not guaranteed

When golden shafts part the curtains
and birdsong fills the early air
a once dormant heart rises
thankful for a good cup of tea

I met a Japanese man
Poetry talking we did
Somber old Haiku

His wife sat silent in back
His vision made me see him
She wasn't there though

Flying to Australia
Seeing family again
She smiles her remarks

Rainbows with Golden Lining

You dwell in imagery
I, in an isolated museum
You come to whisk me away
You’ll find me behind
A newer
Golden creation

Like some smashing rainbow,
I will appear in the sky,
Some one will then say
Twas Loved.

Some day
They’ll question how and why,
I’d find my way
Striking gold to become
Shakingspeare!
Ah!
But not shaky
But to all humanity
Having become so lively