Magazine Posts

A fire within,
burns deep, in my soul,
as memories of old,
begin to take their toll.

Please let me return to
a more forgiving life,
for I ache and cry, as I
am missing my wife.

I wish I knew,
how the words in my mind,
assembled together, to spew
out words, which are kind.

I don't feel thankful,
and don't feel blessed.
I feel my emotions have attacked.
I've been spiritually undressed.

I'm trying to work,
on a plan, every day.
It's important to not,
let emotions get in the way.

Is this the start of a real goal?
Is it the right thing to choose?
Heck, I don't know, but
I have nothing to lose.

I must move on in my life.
I believe this to be true.
Should I be searching,
for someone similar to you?

Literal lines of illiteracy,
tells me who I am.
I'm unsure of the next step,
if I am to become a changed man.

Life's great mystery,
when writing these words,
of what used to be,
is becoming a little absurd.

Hurriedly written, not a good thing.
What in the world, am I,
supposed to be? I won't
know until I really try.

I wrote this 6 years ago, a different time, a different style

Black was the Sun,
rising in the East.
Storm clouds and breezes,
wanting more, not least

of the morning
we had figured we should,
as we didn't know how much,
we just knew we could.

Another tasteless rendering of words
pouring from this old head.

A rent,
a tear,
in the fabric
of time.

An elusive
escape from
the corners
of my mind.

A rent,
to pay,
monthly,
not per day.

Perhaps I
should leave
and just
go away.

Go away,
he questioned,
lost in
him self.

The next
words will
be the,
Elf on
the shelf.

Too much
clutter in
this head
of mine.

Would you
please be,
on this day,
My Valentine

I was lucky,
when I saw,
a bird's beak,
shaped like a saw.

Its beak looked like,
a rusty rip saw.
It was fun to watch,
when he moved his jaw,

wood sawdust would fall,
and a well-cut board,
clean as could be. It was,
hard to believe, all aboard.

It's never too late to change
or choose,
for you can't win
but you can lose.

Outward the wind,
in a matrix throw.
Returning to you,
in a bigger blow.

Have we met before,
in another life?
I wish it were so,
as life has become rife,

with so many
extremely odd things,
I should roll the dice
and see what luck brings.

I tire of this life,
without you.
So many questions.
What must I do?

What must I do,
to live a new way,
struggling with questions,
of what to say?

Find new ways,
to spend my time.
See more people,
similarly inclined.

With many others,
outside my room,
becoming a survivor
by avoiding the gloom.