Magazine Posts

What was it like, when there were
no cars?
When the Gods we worshipped, were
Venus, Jupiter and Mars.
Would you wonder, what a strange
World was out there,
Or just be indifferent and continue being
so unaware?
All of the years, which have passed through
those ancient eyes,
were there questions, unanswered and
left to surmise?
Don't you wonder now, how we
became so unwise?

A timeless path,
travelled by man,
starts at the time
our birth began.

We begin crawling,
walking before we ran,
as life goes by,
like the shifting sand.

What happens now,
when we no longer can,
provide value to all
and a burden again.

When you support tyranny
to subvert Democracy
your being complicit,
in your own hypocrisy.

Some times we're like animals,
but lest I repeat,
we can behave like
dogs coming into heat.
There are many emotions
down by our feet,
of jealousy and anger,
which are not a treat.
Some numb the senses,
like love so complete,
then a deep sadness,
causes one to retreat;
run from this life,
once more a defeat.

What are the words, you now write,
full of platitudes, just didn't seem right,
like a shirt on your old body,
has shrunk again; now it's too tight.
Why writing these words, have become trite.
Try as I will; it is my plight,
to do better with all my might,
not writing these words, an oversight.

I see the far away look in her eyes.
I've seen that look so many times before
and I will not show any surprise.
Where have you been, lovely one, mine.
You know the World for you to entwine.
To be better or worse, in our life sublime.

A long shadow
from the recent past,
has caught up with me,
now I must move fast,
away from the noise;
the hate I do see
from an election pose
which is missing from
this child with no toys.

The barn sat back from the road,
surrounded by pasture; there was no abode.
The weathered boards had once been red
but are now mottled; old boards from a shed.
What mystery stands there by the tree?
What's the history of this building I see?

If you like what I write,
it is OK to comment, I say,
just write out your words,
don't run away.

A farm harrow lies in the dust.
Once shiny metal is mostly rust.
Is it a harrow, a task to trust
Or a philosophy which has gone bust?

The ancient sound of a
Sirens' wail,
sends an electrical charge
down my spine.
The wailing assaults
my old ears,
creating confusion on
what the noise.
The loss of life against
the the rocks of the Sea;,
while the bones of
ships ay across the sand.
Beware you all, when you
go to Sea.
Cover your ears from
the Siren's sound.

The road is wide
toward the bend,
traveling towards,
our journey's end.
The days are short,
the nights are long.
We use our breath
to sing a song.
Good golly, ms Molly
comes to mind
and the future is better,
for all of mankind.