Magazine Posts

He controls the evening.
He controls the night.
He controls the weather.
He controls the sunlight.

He controls your interest,
even all the TV's,
for he's the master of ceremonies,
for everything, with ease.

Sitting in my chair,
staring out the window.
Looking at the ceiling,
pondering what is the next step,
during this crazy life's journey..

I have Stage 4, Pancreatic Cancer,
with perhaps, months to live.
How did I get in this mess?

My Oncologist does not want
to shorten my quality of life.
Neither do I, so there will not be
any Chemo or Radiation.
I am ok with that. It will allow
me to say farewell to my friends.

I do not plan on giving up. I will fight
this disease for as long as I can.
In the interim, I will enjoy my life,
to the fullest.

A story, from long ago,
of how words, will start to flow,
from this mind, likes to craze,
about a word used for days.

When love was blind,
you moved away.
There was no notice
and I had to pray,

About where you were.
No one spoke, they wouldn't say,
of why you left,
and moved away.

You did not say farewell,
leaving me alone, another day.
Dementia, its ugly face,
took your soul far away.

Now I sit,
trying to recall,
the sweetest memories.
We had it all.

There is nothing in this world,
I wouldn't do for you.
A compulsion, perhaps,
but it's what I do.

You are the person,
I find to be true.
Oh, how I wish, again,
I could be talking to you.

A spanner wrench,
an abandoned boat.
A picture of vessel,
which would again float.

Pull it apart,
as you can see,
the wrench is nothing,
the boat won't see the sea.

Sliding into depression,
day by day.
I know the reason,
but I won't say.

A personal matter,
one who I thought as a friend,
will not reply to my query,
or has it become a "Let's Pretend?"

Have I offended you,
did I misbehave,
or was it another reason,
making the situation, grave?

There are moments,
like right now,
where I'll revert to lies.
I'll avoid the truth, somehow.

I feel exhausted,
dead tired at the time,
when I feel,
I'm running out of time.

I am, of course,
it's plain to see,
for no matter the courage,
the future I see.

I won't drag my blanket,
it's not who I be.
I will stay strong to others,
it's what they'll expect of me.

Organizing was his thing,
and he wanted much more.
He'd have a Spring dance,
on the old forest floor.

Directing others,
into organized events,
out in the open air,
no need for tents.

Something happened
in that early Spring,
when the birds went quiet
and they wouldn't sing.

A sad time when this occurred,
but all in all,
things returned to happy times,
for he had taken control.

Control of others, for all,
upcoming, new events,
but this time,
he needed tents.

There is something strange,
when events begin to fail,
for you feel you are trapped
into a new mental jail.

Give up your power
for people you cannot control,
for what you see now,
is pure hyperbole.

Legendary is the word,
which was the way she looked.
Could of been on the center pages,
for the issue of Playbook.

Aside the trail,
near the Oak tree,
I could see my love,
waiting for me.

Near the path,
where she could avail,
of material to make,
a gossamer veil.

Her loveliness,
a vision of sun,
filled with perfection,
in the finest of one.

It's important today
or any day,
to put your house in order,
so your offspring won't have too.