Magazine Posts

The sound of the morning,
I hear in my ear,
for a Rooster is crowing
and the noise is quite near.
This place is the Islands
where I hear this sound
of crowing and crowing,
near Old Kealoha Town.

The words smacked
of the Devil
planting the seed
of all the debauchery
accompanied by greed.
Throw out the evil
seed within you,
for there is little time
on this Earth

Think of the words.
The words I wrote.
They came from memory
not an election or vote,
for the words written
came when I learned by Rote.

Walk the path
after tomorrow is gone.
Speak not a word,
sing not a song.
Music will settle
the beast within,
unless, of course
it is not
a Mortal Sin.
Exhale it now.
Rid your lungs
of the musty air;
the ancient dust.

Throw back your head,
Eyes to the sky.
Let out a howl
To quiet your nerve.
Do you feel better
Or do you feel worse?
The words now written
are found in this verse.

My words
now written,
lay on the floor.
All were rejected;
won't be used anymore,
for my mind is vacant,
no thoughts grow there
is my latest recant.
Disappeared in the air.

I have searched the World over
trying to find
The person I lost who was
intelligent and kind.

I lost your memory,
in the vastness of space.
Were we connected, so long ago?
Worlds apart? I want to know.
I felt a tremble, when we first met
wasn't sure if we had yet,
the years and lives, from long ago,
are passed and will no longer show.
I feel strangely, if we've loved before.
Perhaps this is the feeling,
I spoke of before.
Do you believe in life after death?
I believe I do.
How about you?

Have I played into your hands?
Do you control me with your demands?
Need I distance myself, afar?
I know you for who you are.

How do you write,
when the sounds,
in your mind,
are interspersed with music,
emotionally entwined.
The music in the chamber
of this aged mind, seeps
as I hear the sound of
"As My Guitar Weeps",
with the harmony of voices
of Clapton and McCarthy ring
of our lives together
as they beautifully sing.

The winds of time lost, have returned,
back again, without a word about spurned
questions raised, of where has time gone.
When reflected on your past, in song,
a collection of words, from long ago,
about the loss of love. I know
no matter the order, lost in time,
I'll think of you always; as mine.
Not a possession or something once owned
but a time when we were both alone.

There are no words
to charm and beguile,
these thoughts of mine
when seeing your smile.