The stream (all workshops)
Time's moments takes it's toll
adding gravitational pull
To a body, so weighed down
His chin can touch the ground
With pain visible on his face
He lives sans his wit, and grace
A life of selfishness, his crime
now sentenced, to a duel with time
And time's blatent tenacity
plus it's control over eternity
Reminds the man how much it's cost
for him to realize what he's lost
So he wears time's final wrath
As he walks life's thorny path
It's really rather humorous,
in a whimsical sort of way
how, "work on my Ibs" sounds like an exercise program,
"Wow, workout only ten minutes a day!"
But, It's neither ibs, nor abs, that I'm addressing here,
it's my irritable bowel syndrome sounds,
that pre-fart situational audio
that's more embarrassing by leaps, and bounds.
I am the assassin
If you see me it’s already
Too late
Can you feel me breathing
Upon your neck
Too late
There won’t be time
For a spine tinkling scream
Too late
Out of the darkness
You will not see me come
I‘m in your head
Look in the mirror
Just to your left
I’m in your head
What was that noise?
In the attic or was it the shed
I’m in your head
.
floating words
of implicity (and sense)
breathed at the pace
of engaged soliloquy
speaking of meaningful excellences
or bewildering travails
then,
refolding that which has been discerned,
back into life's inevitable, inexorable
fluctuations
finality is not the point
never was
never will be
Freezing cold fell on the South Coast
frigid temperatures turned roads to ice
deep freeze spoiled fruits on trees
New Orleans's youngsters seeking warmth died in fire
Rain storms fell on the West Coast
mud slides covered homes and cars
people dug their way out
bracing up for another winter down pour
Snow storms fell on the East Coast
snowflakes covered homes and cars
no place to park, but in the streets
cleared by snow plows earlier in the eve
On my wedding day
I hope that I can say
That love has found me in my cave
And brought me out without a cane
When my child’s bourn
I hope we won’t mourn
This love will shroud it from pain
We will raise it above the rain
As I hold your hand
As I hold your hand
We could take our stand
As love leads the way
On the day I die
Don’t wonder why
This love has brought me from the dark
It will raise me to make my mark
Easing down a wooded valley
on a bit of sylvan salley
late April or early May
an altogether pleasant day.
The forest in a deep new green
providing a cool leafy screen
from the late afternoon heat;
honeysuckle blossoms smelling sweet.
As my legs and feet begin to tire
I decide to sit and just admire.
Well now, there's a perfect stump
upon which to perch my rump.
I sit down and take a rest
in midst of springtime woodland quest
when a mocking bird alights near
and it shows no sign of fear.
craving your kiss
hungry for your arms
soothing sleep eludes,
absent of your breath
whispering in my ear.
HAPPY 2011 TO ALL
Christmas I Thought
Has come and gone,
Its now merry making
For a New Year
That's about to dawn.
Where were you
Since Christmas was born
Making cookies for a brighter morn
Let Christmas be awaited
For another year
Let’s usher in 2011 my 465 dear
And then there will be no fear,
When I your well-wisher am so near
Well Happy New Year
Is round the corner,
The snow fall continues
But tis slightly warmer
So
Happy 2011 to all of you
Birth dragged me screaming
into this hollow place,
and abandoned me to the cruelty of my own species.
I traverse the surface of this planet,
a solitary mortal, no one needs me,
the sensation overwhelms me.
Desolation
Degradation
Persecution
Isolation
I'm alien amidst the human race
I don't belong,
I'm a freak.
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