What we do,
shapes the lives
that we make.
What we do,
We live in warm beds,
We comb hair on heads.
We light smokes,
We tell new dirty jokes.
Standing in shambles,
In the sun-
Damage is done-
-Sweet sad song.
-Waiting for a kiss.
Crunch of crisp autumn apple;
Intensity was at tenfold ample.
Camped on thought-
Blood Moon coming soon, a forewarning,
And after that one must survive morning.
Strong Autumn winds blow in;
Through trees, on a whim- these limbs,
and shadows made of them.
Exhausted year, once again…
Biers and tears,
Free and easy,
Mind’s been cleared.
Coming up wasted and frustrated-
Elliot Smith came up roses,
Empty handed impatience,
Changing mindset with practiced poses.
Some of the best luck of all time,
Some of the unluckiest best times,
Some logic takes heavy loads off minds.
Some laziness, what!? -The awful crime.
Round corners above pavement,
On a bike,
Life is dangerous,
Backpack filled with book pages,
Summer’s gone recently, but not for long,
This weather; indifferent, right, or wrong.
The Midwest is at least unique in that it is unpredictable in clime.
And I imagine Simon and Garfunkel will enjoy their vodka and lime.
Stench to prove-
Ammonia and hardened poop.
What it is.
No king cleans out cat shit.
In the air hangs
remnants of digested remains.
Hands to rearrange
Next to the toilet stool
What a silly fool
To be a cat;
To actually rule.
Waking each day to test my resolve
Walking around with patience
Living through the storm and calm
Resisting tumultuous agents
Fall comes just as our sneakers have worn in
Our bike seats touch familiar under buttocks
Dying grass and flowers thin; bend in the wind,
Tree’s leaves affect intensely displayed colors.
Pools close and drain, with new frost to blame.
Mothers count their wandering curious young.
A yellowing sun grows faint, shadowing its loss.
Fathers light expensive brown cigars for fun.
Dogs and cats play-excited, loud and rowdy,
Leaves and debris blow thru them in the yard.
Cold holidays come nearer, passing yet again,
Each year grows tired, cold, aloof, and hard.
On destiny we wait; fleeting speed of time,
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter yet again align.
I have drunk
that were in
you were definitely
they were refreshing
and so cold
in homage of, and inspired by: This Is Just To Say, William Carlos Williams, 1883 – 1963
Frequency of seldom infrequency,
static-noised air to patient ear,
while colored with sun near a bus
or at the beach drinking beers.
Electric sounds come forth in waves
causation to rethink a certain thought,
eclectic colloquialisms, esoteric anecdotes;
meaning and purpose somewhat lost.
Effect and affect the way we make change,
asking questions: who, what, where, when, and why (?)
Coming from a time, this by-gone era,
not much action; save weather in the sky.
And yet always so much to say though,
because this is my local public radio.
Come right past
Cool breeze day
I’m fine with that
Swing to and fro
Practiced at relaxed
Season’s change and grow
A time to retract
Life’s right now
Everyday to act
Moments of wow
Home is on the path
Astonished, reflecting the year that passed
As they say: don’t look back, don’t look back