lazy winter

my muscles had atrophied
their girth has dwindled away
but now the winter is gone
tilling time begs for my hand
as the cock crows in the dark
my sleepy brain functions
is remanded to only motor skills
it will soon thaw with exercise
the days will grow my strength
and protect me with calluses
allowing me to work to harvest
where then after I can again rest
fat and happily until the Spring

you know who you are

words, notes, drawings
any fool has the ability
creation implies no skill
composition is an art
talent makes it good
memorable among others
like a good pinot noir
or simply fresh air
some have worked on it
others have it naturally
but the distinction is there
and thank you for sharing

suicide

how could we tell?
the external fruit was sound
showing vibrant colors
a youthful perk in his eyes
dressed of a carefree man
but there was a rot deep inside
a moldy soul began the decay
unnoticed and unattended
in need of immediate surgery

we got the news today
the inner rot had taken its course
sadness became madness
evil’s secret agent had it’s mark
the assassin struck with stealth
suppressing the cries for help
taking the villainous course at hand
allowing youth to fall to waste
and potential to fade into the grave
infiltration of the heart by an enemy
the hand of betrayal laid unseen

Vandal

Allowed to have domain
blank canvas begging for action
beige walls and white washed brick
picket fences and punctuated essays
thriving monotone facets of mediocrity
sometimes a breath of life is needed
a rebel ushering in some chaos to order
drawing outside of the box in crooked lines
flagrant colors and images offend
yet some pedestrians admire the work
a call to rethink what we know and harvest
questioning the morality of black and white
pointing to etched images in private property
as progress rather than insubordination
accepting mutation as the birth of evolution
regardless of how long it takes to catch on
as white is repainted white and erased
the scream will be heard for longer than it lingered
for what is seen cannot be unseen
and the seed of the future planted

toil

Today I wash my hands
fingernails and wrinkles
collecting the grease of work

today I wash my hands anew
knowing tomorrow will be no easier
protective calluses have formed
handshake wide with muscle

though today I wash my hands
my word lay in it tattooed
what I committed to yesterday
stays like a worked in callus

tomorrow too, I will wash my hands
and fold the towel properly
all will lay in order for that day
waiting for a new day’s work

Thank you Bill Gottlin.

a sword laid down

it has been long since the first time
I got up after speaking with you for a while
the casualties of the night lay around us
the remaining survivors were engrossed in their worlds
so when I asked if you were tired, you obliged
a simple question with so many pitfalls

now years later we have our own battles to fight
some not as fun as those simple arguments from at first
delving more into the essences of what we want from one another
taking a hard spoon to scrape for the remainder of tasty soul
we make sure we know that life is there in each other

each one of those nights we spend laying in armistice
and every battle cry fought together or against the other
all have brought me to the realization that there is proof
in the electricity you emit with every kiss, still so long after our first
allowing a proud warrior to be bested happily with honor

country sky

Last night I stood staring up
a strange glow lit up the sky
the fire was lame for the woods lay dark
yet the many suns burned in distant skies
dancing as the hearth beside me flickered
and making me humble on my terra firma
was there someone looking up at me?
was there something bigger than this?
thoughts danced as the smoke did
view of the black pocked with needleholes
weaved in and out from behind the smoke snake
a glow of stardust resembled the rising ash
conversation and sounds in the woods
brought me back to more mundane wavelengths
leaving the heavens to peer at me again
the everpresent voyeurs of my life

our bed

our bed is a contradiction
you say it’s loud like cotton balls
if that’s not enough under a muffling comforter
the dip brings us together, how I like it
you see a hole that chases dreams away
I don’t feel the dip, just you in my arms
my soft pillow of breathing warmth
keeping me alive, snug while I slumber

in retrospect

I remember the feeling
mostly because it annoyed me
of the cool dew wetting my feet
the grass wedging itself in my toes
as it washed over my flip-flops

now with the onset of autumns chill
and my toes entrapped in shined shoes
sitting behind my walls of working monotony
I remember that feeling with longing, now
especially since I was headed to the lake
to take a cooling dip before the rising sun’s heat

spell bound

Too young to know to stay away
his interest peeked with this find
a dusty book of spells and prayers
the teenage boy began to read

upon gathering some ingredients
and practicing the unfamiliar words
the young man was elated
to see the incantation come to life

having now proved his mastery
in simple powers of the art
he flipped to pages of greater potency
and began his studies of the tome

his friends began to to wonder
and his kin barely saw him
the changeling to his former self
he became contorted with intoxicating wealth

in the quiet recesses of the forest
he practiced vocalizing foreign sounds
summoning beasts both natural and not
conjuring experiences far past his age

when the dark beings would speak to him
molding his immature and fickle brain
he thought they were empowering
instead of morphing their apprentice

then one day he was discovered
as the sorcerer in learning
a stranger stumbled upon this magic
becoming witness to this craft

accepting knowledge from the ravens
making dryads of old trees
he only knew to hide his secret
spouting evil enchantment
to dispatch another’s innocent soul

now the darkness had more than influence
it had enacted a forceful evil
enslaving the young apprentice
having exchanged leverage for his greed

then others came looking
for the first who had gone missing
and they too became one with legend
swallowed up by the darkened forest

the battle of the young man’s conscience
began to show in spite of his new power
choosing to recluse himself
into the recesses of the wood

there his mind became his enemy
and the power impotent to further harm the world
he disappeared into a cave they say
where he makes himself pay eternally for his sins

no longer do people wander alone in those woods
nor do they look for the boy or his victims
it’s a chapter closed for good
from the book of evil incantations