Magazine Posts

Well before the leaves turn brown,
Colors will be all around,
Turning shades of yellows and reds,
On their daily grasp of life.
When the brown is at its best,
The Fall winds come from the West,
Shaking limbs and branches readily
And brown leaves fall to the ground,
A sea of dryness, all in brown.

Why am I back awake?
It's 10 minutes past 2.
What in the world am I going to do?
I'm tired, I'm sleepy,
But I'll tell you this;
I'm a long ways away
From eternal bliss.
I worry about the slow demise
And pray that she will see
Another Sunrise.
The mental acuity that's in her head,
I am most certain is nearly dead.
There is little rational, connected thought
And childish pleasure when something was bought.
What can I say? Not much for sure,
I do know this, I must stay and endure.

When your ego is the best
and you worry not about the rest
but lie your way to what you seek
and the future, makes not a peek,
your life will be about what you sowed
and in time that debt, will be owed.
So prepare yourself, your not my friend.
I will rejoice when you meet your end.
Not a Christian thought, you say.
Sorry but those are the rules of today.

There lies a crazy, mixed up pile of prose,
that may have beauty but not like a rose.
Be careful now, don't step on my toes,
for I need them to dance, I do suppose.

When I look into your eyes
and see your angelic face.
I see no recognition or surprise.
Going forward, as I surely must,
Place my faith in our God's trust.
A cure is an option, Not
For no medicine can be bought.

Patience, oh patience
be there for me.
I need you now,
more than I say
for this challenge in life
is not going away.

Over the hill, down through the Glen,
is a quiet place, hidden from men.
A most beautiful sight, rounding the bend.
Solitude for travelers, that will never end.
If it's unreal, then let us pretend,
The place is for all races of women.

I once was young; a lovely
Shade of red.
Now that my life is spent,
My shade of red is dead.

When I was a junior, in high school,
my friends and I, thought it was cool,
to enlist, get uniforms and serve,
So we joined the Naval Reserve.
One meeting a month was all that we
had to attend, then it was off to sea,
but I was wrong, wrong as can be,
for we were going to "boot camp" not to sea.
Receiving transportation chits with no "prattle"
we caught a train, going to Seattle.
From the core of this wonderful town,
we boarded a train, Portland OR bound.
Arriving in the Rose City, very late in the day,
we transferred to the Union Pacific, going to L.A.
My grandfather was working for the N.P.
so using skill, we had a drawing room for three.
Our private room, with a couch and bed.
Why we even had our own private "head".
We arrived in L.A. and on that great day,
we boarded a train, Atchison-Topeka and Santa Fe.
We arrived in San Diego and with great luck,
the Navy was nice, so we rode in a truck.
Boot Camp was now what we were in,
to make all us young boys, into men.
But that's another story.

Not to worry,
Not to fear,
The flat earth society,
Is now back here.
We argue with Science,
For they want it this way
And will ruin the earth,
If we don't say
Stop. Stop it you must
Before this planet
Has turned to dust.

Over the green fields, flags are flying,
in honor of all who are lying
within gravesites; Veterans of wars,
who rest beneath the bright stars.
In honor of the sacrifice they
made for us to be free. Let us pray.

My heart is in my throat,
My feet on the floor.
The words in my ears,
"I can't take this anymore."
"You don't know what it's like,
Please put me away.
I can't live like this,
Put me into a home,
For the rest of my day."

This love of mine,
For most of my life,
Is shredding my soul,
As if with a knife.
Her wit was quite funny,
Not dry, like mine.
She was/is smarter than me,
Without any doubt.
This most, terrible disease
is something, one could cry about.