Magazine Posts

I reflect on this old life, I've led.
When most of my friends, are now gone,
away from life; to the land of the dead.
This lifetime of mine, has so quickly fled.
Running from my youth; messing with my head.
Go from this land and be very brave,
for your next resting spot, will be in the grave.

It is strange
to see my words
on this page.
I write them down
and set the stage,
for my old reflections,
on how I must age.

Where have you been?
Where did you go?
Life has moved on
to a new show.

I no longer know you;
I cannot recall your name.
We were a couple;
some thoughts remain.
Then it was over.
I was to blame.
Rest well, my sweet one.
Please, now rest well,
as my journey has started,
on the long road to Hell.

For want of life
I care not
as I am the one
who has brought
forth the life
of which I know.
Ask me not
for I will go,
to the end of
life and end of show.

I am losing my grip on reality.
One step closer to losing my mind,
as I drift through clouds, towards insanity.
Why does it happen, when losing control
of your emotions or feelings which be,
the every day person can no longer see.
No longer see a purpose in life,
except the importance; caring for your wife.
It should be enough; what lies ahead,
but you worry about what has been said.

In the past years, gone by,
I would drive the old "floating
bridge". There was a curve in
the middle, which would open
for large boats or with high masts.
I owned a sports car, a Fiat 124
roadster; color French Blue.
I would drive fast as it was how
I learned, so many years before.
The sign on the bridge stated,
"Slow to 45". Not this driver,
in my convertible toy for
when it cornered, at speed, there
wasn't any lean as the Michelin radial tires
would grip the surface as if glued
to the road or on a track.
I would speed through the curve, hard,
knowing a 4 wheel drift could come,
any time. What a thrill to drive like
I did. I would not drive the way I described
if there were other drivers close to me.
A second childhood, it was.
A toy, the sports car belonging to you.

Tell me not,
what to do or say,
after you have
taken my love away.

I hear the Sea waves crashing
on the rocks at an Ocean shore,
recalling memories of vacations past
and a desire to return once more.
I can taste the salty, sweetness
in the breeze, coming from the Sea;
yet I long for another trip
to Cannon Beach, for you and me.
Hearing the plaintive cries;
Seagulls in the swirling air,
rekindles my thoughts, of our trips,
when we were young and debonair.

Why do the words,
lust, love and pain,
be so emotional,
we can't explain?

Walking on the beach
after a Winter storm,
brings a salty crispness,
to each breath you take.
A strong wind is blowing
as sand and spray combine,
to wet the exposed areas,
while reshaping the dunes again.
Walk against the wind
on the first leg you stroll;
when you return with
the wind at your back,
it will almost be warm.

I love you so,
it must be time
for us to flee,
away from the pain
of agony's wretched past,
towards a life
of memories gone,
from this empty vessel.
The shell will be
gone one day,
no longer to see
or feel our love.
If it goes away
to vanish,
as if fate
has taken you,
so far away.
I love you so.