Magazine Posts

It was after 10 PM,
the first time we met.
It was a small bar,
I'm still trying to forget.

I called her Helen,
she called me Dear.
Together for 6 months,
then she didn't appear.

I forgot about her,
after a few years.
I saw her again,
and she disappears.

What lessons are learned,
when a close friend goes away?
Don't get too cozy,
they probably won't stay.

Thoughts are racing,
through this old head,
then I remember,
you are now dead.

I have a love,
which I no longer can give,
to the one I loved then,
who I wish could still live.

Alongside, the roadway,
he lay in the ditch,
covered with mud,
he was not known to be rich.

Found that morning,
two sheets to the wind,
unable to speak,
so, they called him, Jim.

Taken to jail,
the drunk tank, it was.
Laying in the filth,
for a reason or cause.

He awoke from his stupor,
not knowing where he was.
His mind was blank,
or specifically, in pause.

What will happen to be,
will he be healed by laws,
or remain where he is,
a traditional lost cause?

Memories of times, long ago, but still here today.

Oh, the joy I see,
when in Skin and Soul,
is from the love I feel,
from those who make me whole.

A caring for others,
when you enter and start,
personifies my being as
seeing the love from their heart.

Where else could you travel,
what else could you do,
when people who are special,
help you find the real you.

I don't recall what triggered the idea to write
this. I do know that I liked how it came out.
I hope you do.

Missing.
Gone away.
My shadow has left me,
at least yesterday.

My shadow, likes me,
it's apparent to see,
for she follows me,
wherever I be.

It is disturbing,
especially for me,
for I am still in mourning,
please let me be.

I'm stuck in mental mud,
or just mental decay,
as my emotions become,
cloudier each day.

I am trying to jump start,
what I write
and avoid words,
meaningless and trite.

My movement is slow,
as I stumble away.
Things I could do,
no longer will stay.

The skills I noticed,
have been going away.
It happened gradually,
not in just one day.

I was quite active,
at a point in my life,
but ignored it,
when dealing with strife.

I've been aware of acts,
when your body you abuse,
and you no longer function,
with muscles you don't use.

The banality of life,
or boring to say,
be more creative.
Have a nice day.

A pot full of nails,
from the foot of a Newt,
brings new meaning to nourishment,
if you care and give a hoot.

The sound of an Owl,
as it calls out, "Who",
is another ingredient,
to make an abstract stew.

Think not of the living,
for they're in a loop,
for the cackle is an ingredient,
for a bizarre tasting soup.

Eye of a Newt,
Spam in a can,
will you eat again,
if that's who I am.

If you think all food,
comes in a glass jar,
then perhaps, you don't know,
where you are.

Back sliding into oblivion,
blackness eddies down,
into a slow spiral,
into, the barren ground.