This blog was created for others who will hopefully glean something from the words I have written.Not much to say except I ran off from an orphanage when I was 13 years old.Hopped on a freight train and joined the circus.Have been wandering ever since.I am grateful to be alive and my only desire is to leave something here for others to gain from.If I can accomplish that then I have successfully reached my intended goal.All we have left in the end is our legacy.
It first began out of curiosity Watching them strut in the sand each day They never seemed to say very much In their own peculiar way Then one day this crow shows up Seems like he wants new friends Three gulls walking in silence With an outsider who pretends Each day goes by This odd procession In the distance of crashing waves Will they accept him into their circle To satisfy what he craves
You ate all the cookies Except the last one And smoked my last cigarette Yes I am angry I will hide a box of cookies In my glovebox Cigarettes will be plentiful They will be stashed In the garage somewhere From now on eat your own cookies Smoke your own cigarettes Let me wash the dishes for you Empty the garbage Mow the lawn and put gas in your car I want to make life easier for you But you cross the line When you eat all the cookies And smoke all of my cigarettes I like your mother Don't worry Everything else is fine
Tumbling rhythms about in my brain
Octaves smoking in constant dilemma
Notes that play amongst tinkling cymbals
All arriving at the piano's feet
Yet I can feel that down home beat
Like it used to be in New Orleans
Where I stood on the corner and listened
In my torn blue jeans
Down in New Orleans
Where the music was sweet
How it caressed my ears and brought me to tears
Quenching my desires
In my self inflicted pain
And the tears
Yes the tears which flowed
When nobody was looking
Or sometimes they were
But I didn't care
The energy and the spirit
That flowed in the street
How my heart was captured
In the pounding of those notes
In spite of the demons
Or the evil that gloats
Upon my shoulder as I witnessed
The smoking piano that blared out the songs
Making all of the rights in my life
The opposite of wrongs
Sweet smelling incense mixed with familiar body odors
Smiling faces with piercing teeth
Enveloping me and expelling my grief
In the dust kicked up by scuffling feet
All part of the deep down beat
Whores and drunkards alike
All my friends
As I smoke my Picayune cigarettes
In the middle of the street
Of which I am part of to this day
No escape from the parade
Like the smoke that pours from the stacks
Down by the railroad tracks
At crossroads where I flee to in my escape
Cobblestone streets reaching
Preventing my departure
All within its nature
With no real nomenclature
It sucks me back in to where I began
When I first ran
To the arms of the freight train
In the rain
I slipped on the tracks
Trying to get in
The boxcar made of wood and tin
Where hobos reclined
Rolling cigarettes and eating cans of beans
Heinz vegetarian beans
I remember-the 27th of December
1965 when I made my escape
It was the year of the death of Martin Luther King
Not much to sing about that year
Feeling the pull from New Orleans
Where I would eventually stand
In my torn blue jeans
Offering myself up to the crowds
Who mourned in the streets
Wearing their shrouds
Discarded mask of the Mardi Gras Trampled as the parade goes by Mixed with conglomerations of many things Barely a moment in time in the sky Hooping and hollering and last hurrahs Confetti that slowly dies upon the streets The spirit still survives within the mask As surely as the heart which beats It searches for its host although departed Desertion occured after its use After brief contemplation the spirit departs For yet it is back on the loose Seeking out for what it must obtain A human beating heart Looking to become as if in one Though it knows deep down that it must depart Wandering in wanton to meet its needs In places chosen by random Two distinct forms that exist in time That shall never run coherently in tandem
He's the flim flam man Who never quite straightens his tie Meaningless words expel from his mouth While he watches your insides die He will sell you his line of worthless goods With line after line of smark cracks His story is good-he's rehearsed it enough Making up for the class that he lacks He can be found at the gambling tables Or in houses of ill repute Although his concept of the world is warped At his craft he is quite astute Then in an instant he is gone as quickly As when he first appeared The man who talks out of both sides of his mouth Amongst the crowds that jeered
In stealth she waits On the railroad track Rustling leaves on autumn days A sun which conceals itself Behind deathly ill cloud formations Of blackened swirling haze Her staff planted firmly Upon the scorched earth Hair that was once flowing Is now a tangled mass Her stench repels all of life Until she is desired no more Her heart only beats To keep the beast inside alive Tainted with fear The morning dew clings to her In recompense she tears wildly Into the sacks of food left for her Glancing at me momentarily In my departure With no thought of approach Until the next return When I approach On darkened autumn days
Waiting for you for what seems An eternity in time Days turn into weeks Like seasons that have gone by Shedding tears on the inside My heart breaks at the thought Of never seeing you again Pictures upon the wall My own hand caresses me Imagining with anticipation My life is on hold There is no more energy to expend So I wait patiently In the dead silence For your return Until then I cannot feel The earth beneath my feet
As a child I thought them to be flowers Growing in multitudes in the back yard When they had expired in their beauty Dispersion coming when the wind blew hard Making necklaces and crowns for my mother Out in the morning sun She told me dandelions were just weeds My illusion in downward spiral was spun Dead silence upon that revelation Beauty gone from impressions in my mind Nevermore to make a necklace Acceptance within my head began to grind Destruction of the crown I had just made Mere lowly weeds-not in my mothers hair A dark day where birds no longer sang In the memory of what I must bare I just wanted to lay down in my room There I remained until my father came home I stared at the ceiling beyond my horizon Wandering to the sound of my metronome Its somber pace brought me to a calm As it had done in times before I never noticed the form of my father Who watched me from my bedroom door Knowing the magnitude of my reality Like a child whose toys had stopped talking Reminding me of the dandelions dispersion Causing multitudes to grow The realization of creation And the right of a child to know The joy of making a crown for their mother Believing them to only be flowers Spent days in the warm sun laughing Beyond all earthly powers A time to be remembered When innocence performed its miracle In remembrance of its effect on me Now seems to be almost satirical They are looked upon with sympathy For what must be endured to the ends When their pods are sent into the air Prisoners to the way the current bends It is a lovely thing for a dandelion To be used in such a way Of crowns and necklaces for a mother In the innocence of a passing day
Waiting amongst the daffodils Until you arrive To kiss me upon my face Such flowers are merely A distraction to me In this magical place Closing my eyes for a single moment Brings me visions Of sugar plum faeries On incandescent daffodils In changing light that varies Occasionally the dragonfly visits While I listen to the songs birds sing Gentle winds blowing Through boughs of trees As I float upon the wing Of an imaginary bird in the air It's heartbeat increases with every stroke Such words upon my lips That only you can invoke In the sweet by and by Of an inner melody That skips along gently Within my mind Elusively fading into the fog Wanting you to find That dream in which we both desire Within the inner fire Its gentle pulling Like the lull of the ocean To and fro In the slow motion Come to me quickly as I lay Amongst the flowers Dreaming of you In the silence of powers Beyond my control and all that it seems Upon this ocean within my mind
He's just a Dorito thieving seagull Who hangs out at the grocery store Those who offer him bread or nuts Find out he wants nothing more Nacho Cheese Doritos He knows the difference from Ranch But once in awhile he takes two bags One for the sparrows on the branch People cheer him Other birds rally him on as well It's in their best interest after all It's a free meal so what the hell Yep he's a cutie pie alright He knows it's funny to people Watching him steal Nacho Cheese Doritos Before he flies off To a nearby church steeple
My mother and I used to observe
As a child in our garden we watched
Butterflies who gently fluttered
On graceful wings upon flowers
Sometimes resting upon rocks
She used to tell me stories
That they were really fairies disguised
It was not until many years later
That I finally realized
When I carried her to her final place
Taking notice of their presence
By chance upon a visit
A butterfly rested upon her stone
It seemed as if waiting
For me to show
Momentarily it took flight
To a nearby bridge by a pond
When I sat by the water
There it lighted
Close to my hand
As though it took me
To a secret land
There it rested with folded wings
In the distance
A bluebird sings
Then it was gone as quickly
As it had appeared
My eyes teared
In remembrance of
Past memories
By chance they seem to come
And go in my life
Now I strongly suspect
She secretly visits
Upon her shoulder rests
The shoulder of my wife
This gentle butterfly
Which seemed as if waiting
For me to show
Before it took flight
To such other places
It must go
As I ride the rails into the fog Under a rising sun As if dissapearing into the abyss Before the day is done The constant rhythm of grinding wheels Brings peace that's hard to find In the cool breeze upon my face That slowly enters my mind In high altitudes the sky roars Barely perceptible as quiet thunder In my heart of hearts of which I feel Cannot be put asunder The city is far behind People are on my mind I realize for all their differences For everyone I may find The world with it's people Regardless of distance Are a giant bouquet of different species In constant resistance Each one speaks out as an individual Their character in spite of the flaws Making them unique in so many ways In spite of man made laws Outer beauty has never impressed me It's been my constant desire For what resides inside each thing That speaks like flickering fire The gathering of observations Lasting impressions collected along the way Keeping me company as I ride the rails Throughout the long cool day Slumbering on the bales of straw The towns pass quickly by Always observing from a safe distance So as not to get in the way I dissapear into the fog With nothing more to say
She waits quietly by the window Anticipating the expected arrival The sun shines brightly Serving as a brief distraction It's warmth radiates Yet it is no replacement For what she awaits People dot the sidewalk below Although the movement intrigues It is of no consequence For the feeling of emptiness Upon the windowsill She quietly waits For the flicker of the flame As her companion arrives She is the gentle cat Who longs to sleep alongside That which gives her peace Until the morning once again comes
Howling hooter who clings to the tower Television sets radiate Radios blare In a world where Nobody ever seems to really care Peaceful endeavors are rarely seen In those hearts that bleed Found wanting in such places Where particular people seem to gather For they would much rather Stare at the hooter upon the rooftop Refusing to acknowlege his presence Ignoring his noisemaking Unto them he has no more importance Than a gargoyle Yet in my own observance His wings cause me to take notice Thinking of his ability in the calm If someone just took the time To approach in a humble way His outlandish scream The look in his eyes Beyond all that seems to be A misunderstood character In his frustration to communicate He is only looking Hope in his heart thrives For the one who can bring him peace
Lambchop used to sit on my shelf Then one day he was missing The little critter was sort of cute Cute enough for kissing Little did I know he had taken up residence With Mr.Perkins my cat Pudgy Perkins but I call him mister Took Lambchop just like that There they were sleeping together Perhaps he had been counting sheep He only got to count up to one Then he fell fast asleep I won't deny him my friend Lambchop Mr.Perkins doesn't ask for much They look pretty good sleeping together Two peas in a pod as such
Tending to my heard is really no task I enjoy their company so In such quiet times they seem to speak Silently as they grow Each one has its own name Its own particular mood as well But under the sun they are as one Which makes my heart swell Neighbors enjoy them Kids want to feed them peanuts They sometimes leave gifts at their feet Don't know who they are Because everyone is so discreet When its time to water my lawn I imagine their trunks in a sway Beckoning to me for cool fresh water In which they can bathe and play Perhaps a stork or two might stop If they spotted my clandestine herd Once a cat took a nap at their side It contentedly stayed there and purred It gives me great pride To know my creation has done much Thats why tending to my herd is no trouble For each heart my herd may touch
I just want to go home to the fields To lay in the wheat with my dog On cool nights under the moon Where the wind can be heard Through the fog Familiar voices of the owls A kit is heard calling its mother Space is just a dimension in time To be filled until comes another Crickets who chirp in serenade A lullaby that puts me to sleep Hanging limbs of trees by the roadside Who seem ready to weep My dog glances over at me In the unspoken language With a somber look in his eyes Out in the wheatfield with one another Far from a city that cries In likeness to sounding brass The tinkling of cymbals A rasping rythm of tambourines Far in the distance is the cry of the city Not able to penetrate what gleams These fields will keep me safe Insulated from the drama of rath In this field with my quiet companion Free to walk my own path
