Magazine Posts

I'm afoot.
no horse
for me.
No need
for one,
as I see.

I walk
the path,
I know
so well.

Walk I will
down the
dusty path
and will
not incur,
the wrath
of an
owner, once
I knew,
prior to
what was
done to you.

Love went missing,
some time ago.
Love of our neighbors,
we no longer show.
Hatred has invaded our lives,
this we already know.

A sound of mirth
crept from the tent.
A cozy place,
which I could rent,
to hide away
from the ills
of the World.
This crazy place,
where no one goes,
unless bidden to,
away from grace.
Go I, your
servant now,
for love is strong
as is your vow

Words continue to swirl in my head.
Words once worthy for writing,
Words now considered dead.
Thou, thee or doth
Should be on paper,
Instead of wrapped in cloth,
A shroud used to bury
But instead, are used to
Cover all the words, said.
Why ask you to understand
Unless you profess your
Love without a demand.
Long lay the words,
Lodged in a jar,
As many others will
Ask where they are.

Only the lonely
walk down the path,
on their life's journey.
Without joy, laughter
and love, Life's burden
may be overpowering.

I continue to struggle
to provide new content,
to you the readers.
I will try, with your
blessing, patience
and understanding.
I attempt to return to
simpler times and
write simple thoughts,
about my memories
growing up in this
area. As a note for
a future article.
When I was young,
the Southcenter Mall
was the pastureland
of the Golden Arrow
Dairy. I fished in the
ditch which flowed
into the Duwamish.

A flash of color
from broken glass
as the Sun rays
striking the mass.
What light reflects
colors, blue and green,
while red is seen,
within a kaleidoscope
of reflections?

MY psyche,
warped like
a zine,
crying out
for paper,
a whine.
Clear out
all your
thoughts in
your head,
for a zine
does not
need paper
to be read.

Words rattling within
my head, slowly, quickly,
who is to say when
an adjective or adverb
gets in the way.
Suddenly he turned, 'twas
to end this story again
and over again for it was
stuck on the edge of reality,
mired in its own uselessness,
trying to use a word to rhyme.

Lay low
the land
below my feet.
Underground,
far below,
lay he, waiting,
to discover
a show,
under my feet,
not long ago.
Cross over
the bridge,
it's what
you should know.
To dance with
the Devil,
if your wish
is to grow.

Revisited

Just another break
in the sea.
A body of land,
large enough
for you and me.
Call it an Isle,
a place for
us to escape
and the
World to see.