Public Posts Seattle, WA Seattle, WA (zoom)

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.

I hadn't written as much
in over forty days,
since you went away.

I need to write
words to the page,
as it will keep my sanity,
as a new life, I engage.

When I write,
I'll write for you,
and all the things,
you help me do.

I'll write about children
and everything,
seeing what the children
always will bring.

Laughter, love
and sunshine too,
for me they bring
a smile, when I think of you.

Little shards of whiteness,
precludes Dawns early light,
through the reflections at
the end of a night's flight.

Silver the rays,
announcing a new Dawn,
as we blink away the sleep,
trying to stifle a large yawn.

Colored balloons,
floating thru the air,
reminding me of
a state or county fair.

The smell of grilled onions,
and roasted ears of corn,
takes me back to Elephant
Ears and eating Kettle Corn.

I hear a melodious sound,
of your beautiful voice
like music to me,
and I do rejoice.

Our friendship is special,
and I reach out, with the new,
seeing you with your smile
as you come into view.

You are the brightness,
which I long to see.
I hope you are very happy,
for you are beautiful to me.

He danced by himself,
in the back of the room,
thinking of memories, happy,
to brighten the gloom.

Saturday nights.
Nights to be alive,
dancing a Waltz,
the Twist, Bop or Jive.

Slipping backward,
into the darkness,
of where I am,
unaware.

Searching as
I am falling,
into darkness,
and I no longer care.