Public Posts Stanwood, WA Stanwood, WA (zoom)

Long, the years,
so far beyond,
when life started,
in a scummy pond.

Is this now,
what I see,
when studying
about Biology?

Were you then,
so, pleasure bent,
your skeleton,
had been wrent?

What ugly words,
I am writing now.
My mind says, when,
my hand says how.

Can these words,
simply be,
the final days
of our history?

A dog, a cat,
made a vow.
They would
always be,
friends for life.
A life of bliss,
a rub of nose,
never a kiss,
to seal the vow,
of love and trust.

What words, lay lodged
inside my mind?
Are they hurtful or
a little kind?

The depths of anger,
has come into view.
If you don't like me,
I won't be with you.

I hate this torment,
when it happens to me.
End it all, please,
set my life free.

Ease my mind,
making a viable choice,
as for a new life,
I will raise my voice.

The horse I rode,
was soaking wet.
I had travelled far,
a journey not yet,

finished. The end
was closing down,
while I was still
far from town.

Streets were filled,
with vehicles abound,
while I kept hearing,
this screaming sound.

Stay away, please don't.
Can't you understand,
my thoughts are crazed,
Truth must be my stand.

Go back, just return,
please, I beg thee.
Don't you stand,
this close to me.

Words fly, from my pen,
to this notebook, in which I write.
Words, so jumbled, crazy now,
as this writing is now a fight.

I am writing words,
senseless they are,
for how much longer,
how near, how far?

Must I go
before I sleep?
My thoughts, shallow,
have now gone deep.

Poetic license,
isn't that the thing,
when one can write,
while voices sing?

Sing the praises,
sing with glee,
sing with fear,
sing to be.

Someone new,
who you will trust,
for my love,
is turning to dust.

Yet, when I sit,
with little to do,
my thoughts turn
right back to you.

Let the wind blow,
through towering trees,
bending of branches,
a cooling breeze.

I feel exhausted,
at 2 AM.
My hands have cramped.
Is this the end,

of the aimless thoughts,
which fill the air?
A short manifest
of a life's despair.

When the amber waves of grain,
come crashing down upon your soul,
perhaps, we will understand,
nothing, in this great world, is free.

Our Society is, in my opinion,
changing to a society of
those with their hands out,
be it politician, charitable institutions,
Drives for Cancer, Alzheimer, et al.
or any other cause deemed needy.

I, for one, do not have unlimited
income to support everyone,
who believe they have a
need to access my money.

Sorry Charly, If I have any
money left over from paying my
bills and the invoices for my wife,
in a Memory Care Facility, I'll let
you know.

When thinking about this current life,
I want to run and hide away.
Fearing the outcome of another,
my fear stands in complete dismay.

Sun rays,
slide in backwards,
from a weird sky,
as if it had been rent,
ripped into shreds,
allowing dappled,
light to touch
the ground.
Soundless.

When did a chopped salad,
become synonymous with a green salad?
Call it a chopped salad,
but make it the way it should be,
not a green salad with torn iceberg
lettuce, with slivered carrots, sliced olives,
shredded cheese and pepperoni slices.
Adding Italian dressing does not make it
a chopped salad. Cube the cheese, carrots,
, pepperoni, chop the lettuce, cucumbers, and celery.
Small complaint it the home but when your
hunger is for a chopped salad. Deliver it.