Magazine Posts

Mock bravado,
is what you do.
Not wearing a mask,
makes a fool out of you.
The act,
no mask for thee,
sets a poor example,
that your followers see.
A pox on you,
you childish man,
with your feet of clay
and head of sand.

In the family room
and I see,
a Crow on the fence,
looking back at me.
In his beak, like a man,
an empty Bud Light beer can.
Did he have a thirst?
I can't say,
for he dropped the can
and flew away.

A Crocodile sat on my back.
I believe his friends, called him Jack.
Jack had been gone a great while,
his place of birth was the river Nile.
He was on my shoulder, wearing a coat.
Happy was I, he had not grabbed my throat.
"Why are you here?' I asked of he.
He said, "don't ask, let it be,
for I am not a Croc, silly boy,
I'm your worries of what's to be,
for your life will soon by history".

A smoke filled room,
an open bar.
Where in the World
did I park my car?

Where will I go,
after you're gone?
A memory care unit,
awaits for thee.
A very nice setting
with river and tree.
You'll be cared for;
something I can
no longer do,
but while you're gone,
I will be missing you.

I ran a lot when I was young and would do so, after work.
Running down my favorite route, on 148th Ave NE. as
it was well lit and I could see ahead.
I had my Sony Walkman on my hip and was listening to
an FM station. Probably rock and roll as the beat was,
for me, easier to make my run with the beat of the
music.
As I tired, the tendency was for me to not lift my feet
as high as a normal stride. Apparently I was doing a
little shuffle and my toe caught a raised slab of the
sidewalk. At the time, I also played Soccer and had a
defense mechanism when hit or losing your balance.
I tripped and automatically went into a "tuck and roll"
and came back up to me feet. I quickly looked around
to see if I had been noticed. I wasn't.
Checked myself out, no damage and the Sony was still
cranking out a tune.
The next day at work I was relating my accident to a fellow
runner. He asked I had hurt myself. I said no, but as I
reached for the spot where my Walkman had been, I felt
a slight pain. Shortly after that I had acquired a small
bruise, that I swear had the word Sony, in my skin.
The moral of the story is to keep running, no matter what, as you
never know what is chasing you.

A life is filled
with love and sorrow,
here on this day
and gone the morrow.

What is this life,
we have to live,
where it is more take
and not enough give?

A vision of beauty came walking this way.
I didn't know her and so I did stay.
She came by my table, as if to say
Something to me, then turned and walked away.

If taking one pill is good,
I'll take two or three.
What's the worst thing to happen?
There would be no more me.

Smoking a cigarette,
I took a long drag.
It's the inhaling
that hurts you,
putting you in a bag.
Smoke, smoke, one more puff,
until your wasted lungs,
tell you, that's enough.

The most beautiful one, in the land,
for not of money, or to understand,
the joy of life, yet to be,
when you returned thy love to me.