Ghost Town

Ghost Town

Faint echoes trickle beyond the eye’s reach
Phantom playgrounds of yesterday’s loves and hates
Carnal knowledge taught only in misty realms of despair
For time long ago usurped the quick and slightly spared the unliving.

Loves and dreams and aspirations huddle in their timid holes
Prodded to vicious life when stumbled upon by those searchers
Those wanderers who seek Truth in places best left for dead
For all here lies fallow, unforgotten, yet distorted to reality’s gaze444

These ghosts build monuments of vapor in the future
Glimmering, shimmering towers of brilliant lies
Conceived of pain and longing and suffering and tainted ideals
Oasis’s to mirages in the path of the unaware

Lured by the sweet tease of candy floss dreams
Wicked in their deceit of possibilities
Hearts fall prey to the future games of those who’ll never be
Building more corners of deception just beyond veiled walls of fog-like substance.

Pasts haunt the human loves of life
Landmine lollipops easily suckled into one’s soul
Mirrored by future-built cities of perfection and happiness and glory
When each of those live only in the scantest nanosecond of a thought before reverie and dream
Both smoke-like demons who rob essence from the corporeal
Delivering dusty memories and insubstantial goals to the unaware masses

Heed not the slavery of the past
Its glories, fetters to anything real
Learn only, if you dare, to embrace not the day but the moment
And disdain the lure of what could be.
Tread in the light of reality
Open your eyes.
For now is your time
Now is your moment
Step forth from ghost towns of memory’s tease
Into hope.



Room to Grow



What a world! Death. Mayhem. Greed. Hate in politics. Hate in families. Hate in the races. Where and with what do we identify ourselves?

So easy to get caught up in our Communication Age technologies. The shitty truth stands as this: as a species, humans are piss-poor communicators. We truly suck at this. With all our “social” media, which is pretty much far from polite, the only things we seem to be able to do is shout nastiness into a digital vacuum at other humans. Pathetic.

Our technologies are not eating our souls. Our technologies already devoured them. Right now our self-made predator is simply digesting us. The irony is that I’m caught up in it all as well. I’m using this site. I’m writing these words.

I’m looking for answers.

When I get to these emotional caverns, I turn to poetry. More and more my need to flee from the digital world presses harder on my soul. Yet, I’m infected like so many others. Maybe this is my way of clawing up the digital esophagus hopefully to be expelled. LOL!

A line from a powerful song touched my flagging soul. I decided I need to write something with the root of this line giving my writing life. I don’t know what words will come. As I key these words I will now discover what I wish to say about the concept of…

“…find a place where there’s room to grow…”

Room to Grow

I viewed my life with my heart in my eyes
The ground my companion while I begged to fly
Fears and trials and life’s overwhelm
I’m a rudderless ship, none man my helm

Not true in so many pedantic ways
A member of society, I “live” out my days
But why don’t I live as I desire and seek
Am I too scarred, too scared, too weak?

All I desire stands in that line
To find a place where there’s room to grow.
Is this too much to ask?
I think not…

Not one outside me holds my answer
No matter how many shall make an attempt
The question to everyone’s answer will always be mine
As will my answer to everyone’s questions be mine

I choose
I choose to live less than I can be
I choose to live in confinement
I choose to wither and suffer as I do

There exist moments
Snippets of time and energy and heart and muse and creativity
Where I thrive.
Where there exists limitless fields of pursuit
A place where there’s room to grow

The voices in our heads do not serve us
Oh, yes, listen to them!
They’ll tell you everything they do for us!
Those occasions when we break our stupor and jettison their caterwauling
We find ourselves
Dried husks.

We do not see our world
We do not feel our world
We do not interact with our world
We pursue our entertainments and diversions.

The place where there’s room to grow resides here:
Our heart.
Our mind.
Our soul.

Not the despicable hatred spewed by other humans.
We must learn how to walk away.
How to keep our mind active.
How to keep our heart feeling.
How to keep our soul from dying.

I use the very technology which has stolen our hearts, minds, and souls.
I don’t know what else to do.
Beauty lies waiting in the breezes, the rains, the sun, the trees.
Just outside.
So close.
I can see freedom.
I can sense freedom.
I can feel freedom.

Get up.
Walk out there.
Become one with my breath.
With my body.
With my surroundings.
If only my mind would come with me.
If only my heart would come with me.
If only my soul would come with me.

And leave all this other shit behind,
I would find

My place where there’s room to grow…

Life and I, we meet now and then, when I am alone…

Where Your Sanity Goes


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Where Your Sanity Goes

Monkey-mind voices in your head
Scenarios projected always dead
Yet they fill your heart with thoughts of dread
Where does your sanity go?

Conversations never had
Full of stressors, mostly bad
Entire process feels so sad
Where does your sanity go?

Clean your brain of debilitating thought
Clear the wreckage which you bought
By listening to the cacophony wrought
Find where your sanity goes

Take the time to enjoy the rhyme
Your path can be a pleasant climb
Transition from insanity to sublime
When you find where your sanity goes

We wreak this havoc on ourselves
Place sensibility on dusty shelves
Live within our minds in many hells
Simply because we do not know
The paths where our sanity goes

Monkey-mind voices in your head
Set aside so your heart is fed
Craziness may be put to bed
When you find where your sanity goes

Take time. Make your effort strong
Right the chaos of your mind’s pure wrongs
You’ll find your path before too long
When you find where your sanity goes.

Your Absence I Fill With Me



Your Absence I Fill With Me

Your absence I fill with me
No hand to hold, no smile to share
All that’s left is my fading smile
The one I wheel out in my more lucid moments

Your absence lives throughout my life
Missing link to my character flaws
You know, those things which define me as a person
The hiccups which need love and understanding

The hole in my soul you could never fill
I do not want you to try
Yet, your presence would allow me to explore why this exists
We could discover each other’s unfulfilled dreams

Just the hope
A sliver this may be
Spark of something, someone
I could fill your absence with me

MY footsteps pad barefoot through the corridors
My feelings know this section well
I placed others here wishing they would thrive and occupy the space
I know now, only I may truly fill it

But could you truly exist?
Do you desire to take residence in a mansion of kindness?
My hollowness shares emptiness and vitality

Do you walk this earth?
I’ve searched. I’ve worked hard to give you life
You’re not here and I question why.
I relax in the thought that you may only thrive as I thrive

Your absence I fill with me
Hope fueled by the dust in this place in my heart
Residence open. Willing. Wary.
A new look. An new perspective. The same immense ability to love.

Morphing the me into we
This must be natural. This must be true
Time cruelly robs this life of completion
But that does not mean we give up.

We could fill our hearts together
Hand in imaginary hand we could build
Not things and houses and toys and distractions
But bonding, love, nurture, peace, smiles, laughter, joy.

As I finish cleaning out my heart
It’s this room in which I stagger, I hesitate, I caress the emptiness
For this immense space reveals my capacity to love
You could never fill it. I would never wish that upon anyone again…

For that is my beautiful task which I regard as a high calling.

Where are you…

Weight of the World


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“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader…” ~ Robert Frost

For all those caring for loved ones ravaged by Alzheimer’s, I’m certain some will understand what follows…

Weight of the World

I could lift the weight of the world
Sling the fearsome beast over my shoulder
Strain against trials and tribulations
Absorb all the torment this life can dish…

If only it would leave her be

I lie the tiny lies
The ones she warned me about
The ones I told young and filtered out of my life as I grew
The ones which now desecrate all her teachings

If only I could forgive myself

I run from her when I should do the opposite
Fear of contagion and loss and helplessness
Fear of everything I cannot control
Fears she would not have me bear

If only it would leave her be

I cry the dry tears of toughness
Brave face to bear the unbearable
Brave heart broken by circumstance
Bravado the mask of weakness and desperation

If only I could have her back

I could bear the weight of the world
If this were not my mother
My right from wrong
My joy in striving
My definition of responsibility
My path I’ve strolled all these years
My connection to goodness in the face of evil

If only I could find myself in all the mess which surrounds my soul

I could toss the weight of the world aside like a plaything
But all that I am fades before my eyes
But the loving heart remembers less and less each moment
But the day approaches when I no longer own the now cherished albatross of Golden Child

Cruelty to witness the disintegration of a mind
A heart
A lifetime
Crumbled into the sands of time like some useless thought
My child-castle on the shore overrun by indifferent waves of memory destruction
And I could bear the weight of the world if this would only leave her be

For that incalculable measure would become feather-light
At the release of what I carry
If only it would leave her be and
Deliver my sweet mother back to me…

Exquisite Imperfections


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Sometimes a phrase sticks in my heart. The words thrum in rhythm to emotions and unheard music, unheard by everyone but me. Music and melody are poor descriptors of what plays within my psyche. Love knows so many forms and manifestations. This phrase would not let go of me. Usually when something moves me like this, if I don’t write it down, the words disintegrate into the universe. “Exquisite Imperfections” has demanded itself to be written.

Another odd thing with this poem is that I usually write the poem then go back and write this preamble. The poem is not written as yet. Here goes…

Exquisite Imperfections

You cannot imagine what the sound of your name does to me
A calm touch in an emotional storm
A soft brush of our illusory lips in a moment of sadness
An intertwining of fingers on a gentle melancholy day
Your imagined head on my shoulder as our sun melts into dusk

We float, surreal beings in my heart and mind
When I dare, I dream of your exquisite imperfections
In this world, anything perfect is a lie
Each of us stumble through our days
At times with grace…other times in farcical collapse

I’ve known the pain of love far too long
More from love’s lie than from its loss
Imperfections too painful to continue
Exposing love’s ultimate absence
Which stands as the most painful of lies

But you…

Your name thrills me, for it reminds me of the joy of life
Though your exquisite imperfections are denied me
I cherish the dream of their discovery
A quest I could spend my life pursuing
To revel in their ultimate truth…

And my love, my love yearns to adore them
For you and I
We would be no lie…


I always find curiosity’s wonder as the words tumble from my heart into my fingers and onto the screen. At times I wish to reign the words in, to sculpt them, to give them form. When I successfully resist the temptation I notice they take on a life of their own. A form of their own. Possibly just in my My Own World (lol!) yet there are those who read and enjoy and connect and understand. This is the golden reward for a writer – to know he/she touched another in a positive manner in this life.

Don’t mistake that word “positive” to mean everything must be written Pollyanna. The sad, aching writing of a tortured soul brings connection as well. The positivity of knowing someone else feels as you may be that special bond or moment where you’re lifted up and you don’t feel quite as lonely or downtrodden or full of pain as you did before the words touched you.

My thoughts this beautifully rainy, dreary evening…

Silent Words and Words of Love

Sometimes writing gets you up at 1:00 am. Sometimes words keep you up until 2:00 am. Then there are the words which cut and divide and cruelly damage. Launched by self-loathing people who cannot understand how to be kind and loving and gentle.

I get it. Their history of damage from childhood haunts their every living moment. They don’t even realize their cruelty. They hide that cruelty behind religion, title, and any other justification they may find.

In the end, they just remain cruel, sick people who create more cruel, sick people. They pass their damage on to others. For whatever reason, they must inflict pain. Those types of words kept me up tonight. The ones which damage most are not the spoken vitriol but the underlying messages of hate.

Silent Words

Words you speak which no one hears
Rends a heart in two, a young girl’s tears
Vicious nature rides emotions’ cause
Body language bites as talons’ claws

Heartless woman who knows no love
Claiming Christ from high above
A liar to all but those who suffer
Behind closed doors, there stands no buffer

Words you speak with tones and motion
Leave nothing behind the startling notion
You embrace only that which flies cruel
Pain and crying your delightful fuel

One day you’ll find the taste, so bitter
From each of your down-beaten litter
For when karma raises its mighty head
Then YOU’LL know what composes dread

For all the love you’ve consistently withheld
No caring. No loving. No gentleness. No meld.
Shall rise up in life to haunt your death
When you wish they’d be there for your final breath

Which will serve only to free their pain
That you’ll never throw them harm again
For now, winter still rules your heart
Nothing left. No one there. No place to start.

Words you speak which no one hears
Silent weapons built on tears
Become useless tools left on display
When its only you which the devices flay

Silent words backed by constant poking
Gutter mouth like a gun that’s smoking
When will you ever learn the language of peace?

I cannot leave my dreams to this lot. I must find something to bring a smile to life in my heart. I suppose this will be a two-poem night/morning!

Words of Love

Jet black hair means little to me now.
Once it would
Simmering, smoky eyes of intrigue no longer lure me
Once they would

Today when I search a smile
I need only look to the seed
Planted in my heart by a loving soul
A woman so beautiful, I’ve never met her

No, no. She’s real
No, no. She’s all that and more
No, no. We’ve never spoken
Though I do imagine her voice,
Its tone
Her accent

All I possess of her are her words
Not just any words
Words of peace
Words of encouragement
Words of admiration
Words of brilliance

Words of love

Most people know love only as a physical meeting and consummation
I’m blessed
I know love as hope redeemed
I know love as a concept fulfilled
I know love as words written from truth
I know love as connection outside the modern norm
I know love as two writers who admire each others’ truths
I know love as two humans on this earth in the same era finding each other through insurmountable odds
Ultimately, I know love is this

Love is real
Thank you my midnight lady
You on your walks of solitude repairing from your day
Me in my midnight musings of truths I wish to speak

My Grecian Urn friend
May we each remain in this life with the other in our heart
My dearest friend
I know abiding love as…


Good! Now I may go to sleep! LOL!

When Love is Stolen Away


When Love is Stolen Away

A kiss
A cuddle
A stroll through the night

All become broken dreams
All feel lost it seems
All arrive as shattered illusions
When love is stolen away

A smile
A feather touch
A romantic interlude

All feel distant as the stars
All impersonal as passing cars
All bring their solemn melancholy
When love is stolen away

A day
An hour
A moment’s passion
When a mere kiss could likely happen
Resisted like a plague’s nefarious promise
Desire whimpers under the duress brought on
When love is stolen away

A life
A breath
An inner smile

All phoenix-prepared from rising ashes
All part and parcel of love’s inner clashes
All collected for baby-step rebirth
When love is stolen away

A thought
A commitment
A devotion to self
All gather from their dusty shelf
All coalesce to form a new perspective
All construct a new directive
All protect from the very start
The stirrings in a broken heart
When love is stolen away

The hand
The fingers
The gentle touch
May never be stolen all that much
As love and soul and inner essence
Still recognize their effervescence
Emotional health alive and well
Thief relegated to their personal hell
The experience necessary and just as well
When love was stolen away

To this day a smile returned
An inner landscape once so burned
A heart once cruelly, cruelly spurned
Emotions roiled, violently churned
Yes that smile is now truly earned
Because love will never be stolen away

When I Write


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When I Write

When I write, a million years go by
Phrases captured in the wink of an eye
Words which sometimes make me cry
All to find my love

For fame nor fortune ever calls
To drive me forward past these walls
Only searching for the balls
To write my simple truths

When writing gives me doubts and fits
When solace only comes in bits
Of passions broken, I always know that its
All about my love

My love for life and all its stings
My love for the emotion passion brings
My love for truth, concepts and higher things
To fill my struggling soul

When I write, a million years go by
Like our lives ending in the blink of an eye
One day may it be I never die
Without the love of words

For without them there would be no songs
No apologies to right our wrongs
I always know where I belong
Behind my keyboard’s screen

I pray my passion’s never stolen from me
There’s no one who I’d rather be
Than the man who creates alchemy
With words flowing from my heart

When I write, a million years go by
No lack of laughter or tears I cry
Passions ever soaring past our sky
It’s all about my love

…………………… of writing


Quick author’s note:

Yesterday on a lark I entered the 24 Hour Short Story Contest. As the title suggests, you get 24 hours to construct a short story based upon a prompt that gets sent out at noon Central Time. You must use all or part of the prompt to build your story. One hour before the contest began, I was fortunate to be able to enter. Often the contest sells out due to a limit of 500 entries.

My purpose for entering was to see if I still had it. The mojo. The short story, creative drive. The word count this quarter (the contest runs every 3 months) was merely 875 words. I headed to Panera Bread, connected to the wifi, ordered my food, and wrote.

There’s something amazing in the creation of a short story. It’s the instant gratification of writing. The quick payoff which helps spark the fire. I know I can write a gadzillion more off ANY prompt. That’s a feeling and a confidence for which I am grateful.

I write this for two reasons. One is that I need to maintain my belief in my writing abilities, my confidence in the same, and trust that no matter what anyone else thinks or says, I have composed a “truth” of sorts.

The second reason is this: I meet people every day who own a dream. They possess, deep inside, something they desire to accomplish. We may talk about fear and courage and work ethic and a truckload of other symptomatic reasons for squelching these dreams. Belief. Confidence. Trust. IN YOURSELF! In my experience, this is where you begin.

Believe in your dream, the one where your passion fires you up. Nurture your confidence not in you pleasing others with your dream and passion, but that you please yourself. Trust in your inner compass which drives you to create. To strive.

Our world, inside ourselves and without, is a smoldering ball of negativity and dismay. Apathy rules nearly every aspect of the “Communications Age.” When you examine the fear mongering our corporations, governments, medical/pharmaceutical industries, and even families hoist upon us, blatant and subtle, it’s no wonder so many people lose sight of their dreams.

Your answers always lie within, not without. Believe. Confidence. Trust. Yourself…

Whether my story “wins” the cash prize or not, I garnered the biggest “win” of all. I wrote a story that I like. It flowed from me with an ease which, even after all these years of writing, surprised me. The writing healed me. Emboldened me. Fired up my enthusiasm. My belief. My confidence. My trust.

May each of you who read this find the same joy when you pursue your dream.

There’s Far More Before Than After…

There’s Far More Before Than After

He’d never known of poverty until he lived without love
He’d never known a day of work until he lost his appetite for life
He’d never known the loss of love until he found his freedom
He’d never seen a sunrise until there weren’t so many left
He’d never shed true tears of pain until she left so cruelly
He’d never found the warmth of love until he found himself lonely
He’d never met this world’s true beauty until he lost his will to seek it
He’d never learned what pain was for until he patched his broken heart
He never knew the joy of work until his back informed him
He never knew how love could work until he heard its death sigh
He never cared to be alone until he observed many people
There’s so much wisdom outside his brain than ever could it enter
A woman’s touch knew no disgrace until he found her lying
The purchase of his feet on earth meant less than his heart for others
The beauty of a woman’s smile falls silent in her ego
The sadness in his heart at night glares sullen from an empty pillow
He never filled his heart with abundant joy until his hands failed its bleeding
The search for meaning dies in diligent effort while regaled by simple feeling
Love knows no truth in life until its death tests boundaries
I know I know so much less each day the more I learn life’s complexities
I know I know more truth of life when I allow my mind to simplify
Her heart strolls a midnight air his breath may only beg for
While he strolls his own midnight scene in hope one day he’ll see her
A smile may only live sincere when blossomed in love’s own cemetery
He cherished so many aspects of life more so in their limited longevity
Those who hold this life’s material fast miss the point of their impending death
Hard labor never killed a spirit until one loses hope’s silent presence
Sleep deferred for creativity’s sake delivers the sated rest of peace within
His wisdom lie before him spread – an empty paper and a loaded pen
May you know the pain of love – examined and survived
May you see your hopeless life – rekindled and revived
For when you give up on all you’ve ever dreamed – you’re nearly almost there
May we discover its not our place to know it all – but more to find life’s where.