Public Posts Stanwood, WA Stanwood, WA (zoom)

Too many words crowd the page.
Don't confuse my love for rage.
I love waging a war of words,
Better than using guns or swords.

I left town, in a hurry
you see,
for I believed something was
chasing me.
Eerie events, began to confound
my life,
as I tried to ignore my
new plight,
but found I didn't like
the sight
of looking back at what was when
I began,
to see other, not as friends
but enemies.

When life is gone,
away from here.
When there are no more
teams to cheer.
When your friends are
gone from here.
When the Rooster crows at
break of dawn.
When your life is good
and not forlorn.
When in this time
love is back.
When our lives will be
back on track.

From the back of my mind,
these words pour forth.
Words, absurd, are not for me.
Useless they fall to paper, coarse,
in a jumbled array; A mess.
Now I must put in order,
to make sense of this discord.
Does it make sense to you,
when all the mess or a word,
brings understanding, here for you?

Singles arrive and couple up.
Not as you might think but
more the Geriatric group.
Is it a rendezvous?
Or just a meeting of
old friends, or strangers
making a new acquaintance?

Do you remember your first book?
Did it have pictures? Did you look
at the pictures and writing too?
What do you remember, trying to do?
Was it, perchance, a coloring book?
Did you stay within the lines? Look
at where you are today
and what you read to your dismay.
Enjoy your books and papers too,
for the writing by others, may enlighten you.

At last sweet lady, you did appear.
I haven't seen you, for almost a year.
Now, I am finally out of life's muck.
Good to see you, my Lady Luck.

Fear not the life
that lies ahead,
for once you're dead,
you are dead.

Have I seen you around?
Have you been here before?
May I walk you home?
Could we just explore,
Talking of the times
And things we adore.
Would you have dinner with me
So we can talk and see
If we are compatible and
Have the same love,
Or is our meeting
Just a passing love?
It must be difficult,
During a time like this
For there will be no hugging
And most certainly, No Kiss.

The anguish of love.
The anguish of denial.
The anguish of hate,
All last a while.
There is nothing easy,
About life on this day,
Except to work hard,
Keeping the dogs at bay.

A long, long time ago,
in a place far away,
where the Elf and Fairy,
would come to play.
A wooded place with Sun
and shade,
where many toys and tools
were made.
Tools of trade, people
would say,
Sorcerer wands were made
every day,
for use by the Wizards, here
to stay.
A spell to move all the
darkness away.
The zap of a wand can sting
as well
for you will believe you've gone to the
Gates of Hell.