Magazine Posts

Want not. Don't you worry
Slow you down,
What's the hurry?

Old Clown
Promises he won't keep
Lie he must.

Where are you now, my mysterious child.
We met years ago, when we were wild.
In an age when long hair was offensive,
While the romance at times was pensive.
Do you remember the longest hair,
Bell bottom pants, tie dyed shirts to wear?
Those times of so called "Free Love"
With alcohol infused thoughts not from above,
Determined our views between right or wrong,
Many of our words became a protest song.

My mind is going
I've lost command.
My feet not moving.
Stuck in the sand.

Sand all around,
Creeping in on me.
I must run
But cannot flee.

A riddle you say?
That might be the case.
All that I know is,
I must leave this place.

Here I sit, not looking pretty
Trying to write words for this ditty.
Must I awake, during these early
Morning hours, 3:30 AM, thoughts are swirly.
I need to return to my bed
Letting the pillow cover my head.
So off I go, as quickly, you see
Into the bed that is calling me.

I don't wish to write about Politics.
I do want to comment on the dirty tricks.
I know for me, it's been awhile,
But Politics are so juvenile.
When lies are truths, according to them,
My mind coughs to get rid of mental phlegm.
Tell me please, what you will do.
Don't disparage all your opposition,
I only care about your personal opinion.

My mind is swirling, racing about,
Trying to be quiet, with nary a chance.
I have pen in hand, writing the thoughts
That are in my head. I try to write
Them down to paper, fast as can be,
For it is now a quarter past three.
That's in the A. M.
Even early for me.

The impact of this life of ours
Is measured, not in years but in hours.

Who are you?
Why are you here?
Where are we going?
I don't know, but will ask
Questions of this ongoing task,
To find the support, I need for thee
So you are healthy, happy and free.

Where would you go, what would you do
If the one accountable, was just you?
No responsibilities, no duties to share,
Nobody telling you, what to wear.
A Utopian view, of this World divine,
To relax in the Sun or shade for a few,
Would be a sublime feeling for me,
How about you?

It was in Hawaii
In the Kona Hotel, that
I saw my first, Feral cat.
Long legged, grey with striped fur,
Strutting about; Putting on an air
As it ambled as if it didn't care.
As I sipped on my Mai Tai,
In the evening Sun.
I recall a friend saying,
"Bet you can't drink more than one."
I ordered another, got up from my chair,
Went to the Loo with nary a care.
When I returned, walking wobbly about,
I said to our host, "that Devil Rum
In this Mai Tai, you serve here,
Is clouding my head", I had a fear
That I must start walking away from the scene,
As I anticipate an hangover
That was going to be mean.
I made it to bed early that night
And remember that I didn't sleep tight.
The lesson learned and I do not try
To ever again, drink a Kona Mai Tai.
At least not more than one.

Some yellow Columbine's bloomed into view.
A true color, exotic shape I see
And then another one, with a smaller flower,
Black as night and has the power
To keep me going; looking all around
And discover another Columbine, that does abound