Well…

Words are the mask of panic

when hastily muttered

to explained what looks insane.

 

Around me gather a collection of human oddities

who constantly wish to defined

their actions as other than completely mad.

 

The man with the dog leash, but no dog

told me his pet was hiding,

though been that way for two years,

then there was the woman

that wore a pink bed sheet

claimed it was to protect against alpha ways.

 

I don’t mind coping with those employees,

which dwell on the fringes of reality,

for at least you know they’ll always be

beyond the state of sane.

 

What worries me is the rock,

a boss who is suppose to be in charge,

known for his accomplishments

appears to be so easily to comprehend,

only one day he stops wearing pants

starts sucking lint off the carpet with his lips,

tells me he’s a prophet name, Maguza

with a warning we are all going to die

after a cosmic pillow strikes the earth next week.

 

Somehow in all their antics,

there comes that dreaded word, well…

it means they’ve lost it.

 

I’ve tried to decipher the gestures and groans

interpret each glance and smile,

only in they never follow a rule book

so it all becomes a guessing game,

always hoping I don’t find myself

among those using a plate to talk to Mars

while having to say well,

once I end those stares.

 

Relativity

To share a dream

held in the palm,

of love and hope

given their light

where two lives

unite in their harmony

until a star is born

of its flame.

The Sky Had No Shadows

Days of fantasies

left their trail of native prints

in imaginary villages where life was natural,

where cruelty was a predator

still sleeping beyond the river

between youth’s sweet peace

and the plains outside the window

 

The sky had no shadows

it never rained death,

life was a teepee in the bedroom,

courage scribbled in tales

of good that always conquered evil.

 

But the headdress of fancy

can’t endure hunts on concrete

without being ruffed and torn,

upon the retreat

from the journeys beyond fears,

scarred and matured by wound,

yet behind the eyes

is the stage of make belief resides,

a script where no matter

how the real world works

at least in this realm of justice

for once the minority can win

while holding onto the hope

somebody it will be a play

seen on life’s streets.

Pirouettes Of Christmas Morn

 

Papa sways to his spike egg nog ballet,

Momma does her favorite fudge waltz,

kids bounces to the Santa Surprise symphony,

and Grandma groans from her fruit cake shuffle

because it is last year’s release.

Wimps!

It takes courage, boldness and tenacity

to keep going past that age of innocence,

yeah, you got to be tough,

like iron on a cold day,

because when lying in bed,

joints screaming and body a limp rag,

that’s no time for whining.

 

Mainly because the kids

are off talking on their cell phones,

grandson is hopeless addict to video games,

neighbor is drunk and passed out on his porch,

boss is too busy trying some new male enhancer

so he can pretend he’s still twenty-one.

 

Yeah aging isn’t for wimp,

instead it is for us old babies,

we learn to crawl again

when our backs give out,

drool once more from times face just gets tired,

learn to try and doodle

on those occasion fingers go plain numb.

 

Really works with such vitality,

borrowed from a bottle of whatever,

only good part is learning ways to fake a smile

so you can lie to the young

how you are really getting better with age,

while secretly snickering

about the shock waiting them in twenty years.

I’m A Mine

Yep, there is gold in that thar behind of mine,
cuz if not the government would have a tax spade
and work so dang hard to be sure
I’ll have no nuggets left,
even the ones inside my zipper,
once I reach that retirement age.

And my family sure am so helpful,
why they will be even dig me a hole,
for my old worn out bottom to rust away,
but first they’ll shake out any inheritance dust
before they let me stake a claim
on the plot where there is only fool’s gold
form all the money paid to Social Security
that I will never see.

As for my boss,
well I’m so glad
he sees me as someone to plunder,
always checking the calendar
to see how much longer
until he can give my job away,
did take CPR instruction,
only wants to use it on this
well endowed blonde,
with me he’ll send an email to 911
should I keel over and become a rock.

Might fool them all
sink my cash into Viagra stock,
make sure the dividends
were invest in some gal named Easy,
now that in precious metal
they will never get in a will!

Ahead

Ahead is the dream waiting to be found

the land where life begins anew

of thoughts without scars

and rooms not filled with ghosts.

 

It’s the journey by worn sandals

where you look for beauty

with learned eyes,

because what waits before the feet

is the land full of discovery

beyond the graveyards

that once were stroll

out of ignorance.

 

What lies yet to see

are the places on the map

filled with sights of promise,

yesterday’s map left folded

and placed in a closet

because it never helps guide you

unto the places you were meant to reach.