Magazine Posts

Another year
of dry weather.
Two years
in a row.
Not a
good thing
in the
Evergreen State.

Forgive me, please,
for being a fool
by violating a cardinal rule.
I am sorry for the words said,
for a smart mouth remark,
a relationship now dead.
I am a long way from perfect
and you know it's true.
I'm sorry and am missing you.

No matter the words,
which enter my head,
I write for pleasure,
and not wake the dead.

The dead, a space where
words go to die,
unless they become written,
and I must now try.

I will save those words, I see,
for the enjoyment of others
they're not just for me.

The wayward path,
may be one of love
or a simple distraction,
which a power above
can change an infatuation.

For all my friends
who are still here.
I miss your smile
and sharing a cheer.

I cherish our friendship
when having a beer
and wish I were with you,
for another year.

Goodnight, sweet dreams
may your wishes come true,
for I miss you a lot
and I will pray for you too.

I continue to struggle
to provide new content,
to you the readers.
I will try, with your
blessing, patience
and understanding.
I attempt to return to
simpler times and
write simple thoughts,
about my memories
growing up in this
area. As a note for
a future article.
When I was young,
the Southcenter Mall
was the pastureland
of the Golden Arrow
Dairy. I fished in the
ditch which flowed
into the Duwamish.

A flash of color
from broken glass
as the Sun rays
striking the mass.
What light reflects
colors, blue and green,
while red is seen,
within a kaleidoscope
of reflections?

For want of love
a life was lost.
A simple task
but at what cost?
We know so little
about the
complexities
of life.
Unprepared
for this attack on
our humanity, as
we trudge on
and accept the
waste of lives.
Thankless the
task for all
the caregivers,
professional
or family.

It's here,
with me now,
can't escape,
by running
or ignoring,
the return
of an old fear.
Watching my
wife, gradually
lose her ability
to function
as an adult.
So very
dependent upon
me. Like a
small child,
but one who
cannot recall,
even the most
recent event.
I'm losing
her bit by bit
and there is
nothing I
can do
to change
the outcome.
Sorry, but
at this moment,
life sucks.
Not for me
but for her
jubilation of
loving our
children.

I'm on a roll,
it's what I feel now,
if I could make money writing
this would be a "Cash Cow."

Find me the morrow,
Find me the deep,
I need a new version,
How can I sleep?

Running on empty,
Where I am now.
Sleep alludes me,
Regardless of how.

I try to sleep,
Tears flood my eyes,
As I openly weep,
About my true love.

Her memory's drained
I am missing her and
Am to blame
For her loss.

MY psyche,
warped like
a zine,
crying out
for paper,
a whine.
Clear out
all your
thoughts in
your head,
for a zine
does not
need paper
to be read.