The crashing of waves across the shore,
brings sounds and a scent I adore.
There is nothing quite like, this World of ours,
being here on Earth with wind, Sun and Stars.

You have bankrupted our Nation.
You have bankrupted your soul,
when you attack the Citizens,
with your lies, above all.
Don't tell us we are
on the road to recovery,
when the loss of life
and jobs mess up our economy.
You sir are a piece of work,
for the presidential duties you shirk.

A green, colored Mule, was wandering along,
humming the melody of a beautiful song.
As he wondered, mostly out loud,
should I join up with a crowd
of people or other just like me?
Not with people as I won't fit in.
It will be with Mules; they are my kin.
What about the green shade of your skin?
Color only matters to people, there in.

You seem fine in the day time,
during the rain or sunlight.
What happens to you in the evening,
where does your mind go at night?

My mind is a flutter,
though I worry not,
about our life
and what God has begot.
Old as I am,
I think about you
and of those memories,
we had and did share,
are missing now,
as the Devil may care.
Please leave us alone,
during this long night.
Let us be now.
Let life now be right,
for I say to you,
my miserable Soul
is filled up with
your fake news hyperbole.

Oh the words, I would say to you
about all the things you do.
You cared for me, over the years.
Now I care for you
as your mind disappears .

Here we sit in our family room.
He's now on TV; a purveyor of gloom.
He lies; They spew from out his mouth.
He says East is West; North is South.
How can one believe what his words are?
He spins the truth, both near and far.

I am here.
You are not.
Our children grown,
a love sought,
from each other,
during journey's life.
We are still
husband and wife.
My thoughts gone,
from my head.
A mental state,
I now dread,
seeing you allow,
here and now,
fills my heart,
with my vow,
of loving you,
is my joy
and I do
all this for
you to see
the better part
of older me.

I write not for you.
I write not for them.
I write for myself,
for the predicament I'm in.

The harshness of Dementia,
is difficult to see,
except when you confuse,
TV Ads with reality.
"There are people there",
you now say to me.
"I don't know them,
but they're on TV."

I write the words, as they come to me.
From my mind they soon will be,
down on paper, written too hastily.
Why do my hands start to ache?
Is it because of my arthritic shake?
Old am I, like wood from the Sea
lying in the sand, alone, is me.

Runs not from me.
Stay in the room.
Surrender to laughter,
Avoid all the gloom,
For the day is new
and I am with you.

Your head is thick.
Your skin is thin.
Oh what a fix,
You've put us in.
You have no Plan,
For us to win.
A gasp, a moan,
Is what we hear.
We're on our own.
That's not a plan,
But a death sentence,
Is what we understand.
You're a heartless one,
That is for sure.
But we'll go on.
We will endure.
One thing we do
Is get you out,
So please vote Blue,
to leave no doubt.

Marriage, is not a Contact Sport.

Mock bravado,
is what you do.
Not wearing a mask,
makes a fool out of you.
The act,
no mask for thee,
sets a poor example,
that your followers see.
A pox on you,
you childish man,
with your feet of clay
and head of sand.

In the family room
and I see,
a Crow on the fence,
looking back at me.
In his beak, like a man,
an empty Bud Light beer can.
Did he have a thirst?
I can't say,
for he dropped the can
and flew away.

A Crocodile sat on my back.
I believe his friends, called him Jack.
Jack had been gone a great while,
his place of birth was the river Nile.
He was on my shoulder, wearing a coat.
Happy was I, he had not grabbed my throat.
"Why are you here?' I asked of he.
He said, "don't ask, let it be,
for I am not a Croc, silly boy,
I'm your worries of what's to be,
for your life will soon by history".

A smoke filled room,
an open bar.
Where in the World
did I park my car?

Where will I go,
after you're gone?
A memory care unit,
awaits for thee.
A very nice setting
with river and tree.
You'll be cared for;
something I can
no longer do,
but while you're gone,
I will be missing you.

I ran a lot when I was young and would do so, after work.
Running down my favorite route, on 148th Ave NE. as
it was well lit and I could see ahead.
I had my Sony Walkman on my hip and was listening to
an FM station. Probably rock and roll as the beat was,
for me, easier to make my run with the beat of the
music.
As I tired, the tendency was for me to not lift my feet
as high as a normal stride. Apparently I was doing a
little shuffle and my toe caught a raised slab of the
sidewalk. At the time, I also played Soccer and had a
defense mechanism when hit or losing your balance.
I tripped and automatically went into a "tuck and roll"
and came back up to me feet. I quickly looked around
to see if I had been noticed. I wasn't.
Checked myself out, no damage and the Sony was still
cranking out a tune.
The next day at work I was relating my accident to a fellow
runner. He asked I had hurt myself. I said no, but as I
reached for the spot where my Walkman had been, I felt
a slight pain. Shortly after that I had acquired a small
bruise, that I swear had the word Sony, in my skin.
The moral of the story is to keep running, no matter what, as you
never know what is chasing you.