Magazine Posts

I can't lose these thoughts
stuck in the back of my head.
Thoughts so perverse of me
they might wake the dead.
Words come out so fast,
I try to write them all down.
I must look, if you could see,
like a terrible, grotesque clown.
Please dear Lord, I ask for help,
when you hear this prayer,
for I am lost and now alone
in this cold, cold Winter air.

I don't know you,
so I should not care,
if your life is
filled with love or despair.
Realistically, I do
think about you,
for my compassion
and empathy, every day,
is to pray for your Soul
in my own unique way.
You can't be here
surrounded by laughter,
when every day there
is a new World disaster.

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I'll be better this year.
That's what he said.
Father Time just sat there
Shaking his head.
You won't do better
Unless you believe,
That climate change's is needed
in this World, where we breathe.

A flashing of light
across the night takes
takes me back to those
days when Searchlights
galore would brighten
your mind that a
new store was opening.
No TV, to speak of,
a limited choice,
to watch Kukla, Fran and Ollie,
followed by Stan Borenson
and perhaps some news.
One channel, King 5
was what I recall
with fuzzy black and white
pictures, no color at all.

I was told at an early age,
that I was born with a
mid-wife conducting the
happening. Delivered on
the dining room table
of my Maternal Grandparents.
My goodness, I said
what a terrible thing.
But the delivery completed;
a child it did bring.

I wander this Earth alone,
do I,
Searching for love to grow,
not die.
A World of hurt and delusion,
oh my.
Not the best of life will bring,
a sigh.

Far away from this, our distant Sun,
There lies a Star, where life hasn't begun.
An artist's canvas, so far, far away
Will take many years plus one day
To arrive on a very bleak scene,
Of rocky crags, sifting sands, water stream,
Will abound with tropical areas being there
In this most foreign of breathable air.

The winds of time,
a sea of change,
warps all our life's
sweet thoughts refrain.
Upsetting those who trust,
casting aside aspersion
of feckless dust.
What happens now,
you wretched man?
Time to leave with
your feet of sand.

How do you say, goodbye,
painlessly?
What are the words to use,
when you see,
the slow progression towards
her insanity?
The sadness inside this wretch
of a man,
who never had a significant,
thought out plan,
to care for his wife,
an elderly child.
Fortunately for I and for she
her actions are mild.
I pray, that I soon will see
a way for a goodbye,
with dignity.

This World of insanity
where the citizens
want to be free.
Free to live a life
of joy and escape poverty.
Is that wrong? It must be
as they separate our children
from our family.
I worry not for you,
nor do I think or do,
the thing that comes to mind
when seeing this, our cruelty
of this display by mankind.