Progress

 

The saints are busy praising.

The sinners at their drinks.

I am busy searching for a 

Quiet place to think.

Lord help me in this midnight

Know what roads to tread 

Keep me in the daylight 

Keep me safe and fed.

Save me from the scoffers

And the ways of cruel man

Be that a man a woman 

Be that man a friend 

The shadows have fled till morning 

The wind my only friend 

Lord keep me from the limelight 

Keep me safe and fed 

Christmas Eve 2014

The sky is pulled down like a shade over the city.

 The sea stretches out her dark hair against the Coast.
Its lights a joyful tiara encircling her brow.
I won't make her jealous thinking
of  your ocean  green eyes right now.

Booker T and the Mg's mincing greens onions on the radio.
Palm trees stand guard around the coast like Afro'd sentinels of liberty.
Can't see the colors in the dark, I just know they're green from memory. 

Lilac smolders in the candles 

Cheap gas and cheaper smoke compete with the night fog 

I can't find my way beyond memories of the way your hair falls soft.

The mangroves are huddled together now,
 a brackish church for a congregation of ragged claws. 

Alfred Prufrock would worship here

A red beacon flashes in the distance 

Out of sync with booker t, in tune with the airplane landings.
 We can't all be artists you know, someone has to ensure the pilots aren't to drunk to land that thing. 

In the distance the cars careen across the causeway,
 may as well be well lighted camels wandering towards who knows what star.
I wonder if any mangers are open on Christmas Eve?

It's a quiet evening, I am at home in this Bethlehem, mayhem. No stars tonight. 

A single white sailboat sits on a sandbar somewhere in the middle of the bay. Unaware of my lady the sea below or the caravan of camel men wandering on their way.

The Thought

"Sometimes you have a thought thats very impatient. It says "hi" and you say "one sec" and when go right back to it, it's offended and gone."- Jeffrey Trask

The Thought 
I had a thought like a pretty girl
curl its fingers through my hair
but when i turned to look at her
all that lingered was perfumed air.

The Brilliance of Isolation

The wick burns fast,
most like a fuse,
when no wax can slow it's musing.
So does the soul,
when found alone,
No love or friend diffusing.
A brilliant light and no respite,
No damper on the yearning.
No watchman late,
to dull the rate
and slow the wick from burning.
Till at last the wick is spent,
and what's left is oil and smoke,
like a memory to those nearby,
 who's throats with sorrows choke.
for we never know,
how low one glows
till at last their light is gone.
or how needed is the wax of love,
for the brilliant to safely burn.

Conversion-sation

Me: "Lord I have a lot of issues I need to give to You"

God: "no you don't."

Me: "??" •thinking of all my issues•

God: "you need to give yourself to Me."

Evening walk

Life blazed by in a red car
And love laughed loud in the back-seat.
I got splashed as they drove by
wandering down a back-street. 

A friend in red once said to me
 "you're only young as you feel" 
then I'm as old as a broken urn,
 I'm as cold as ennui.

Across the burning street stands an
Old man, face red like pepper, 
Sausage head and lithe hands. 
He's a grotesque little man, all paunch 
punch, pint and Ireland. 

I name him "Good Times" and move on.

Broken are the street lights
Glassy is the way, alleys wind forever 
Severed is the day. 

Adding insult to verse.

I'd rather scale the ragged cliffs of Dover
than be accused of kissing you while sober.

Rapture

I wait in expectation
 for the manifestation of Joy
to pounce on me like a leopard
 whos spots don't change.

Evening Snack

I dream of a snowy path through a quiet Birch wood;
powdered cacao ditches on either side.
Puffed marshmallow clouds swimming overhead.
Tree tops frosted orange and gold with sunlight
The Horizon caked in Sunrise.

Haikus and short thoughts

Straight As The Crow Styles
 Red lips and white pearls
black dress with golden bracelets
your song is sweet ma'am.

Misty Eyed
Grace isn't always smooth
beauty isn't ever near
how can i see You?

"Birds, Birds, Birds!"
Two Warblers stand still.
Wings like milk chocolate feathers
nestled in my thoughts.

Dating
Outside are the dogs
Howling at the moon. I am
Inside, terrified.

Work-Place Harmony
Green Mentos fresh breath
flirts with red altiod strong mint
spearmint-peppermint

Christmas in July
Round and down the bend
rust and sparks shred the daylight
Summer tobaggon!

Friday blues
Fridays are like a
mini Christmas Eve. The same
disjointed sadness.

Pinkie Promise
Hand balled up firmly
pinkie outstretched, eyes locked in
what sincerity!

Parting Hug 
Cancer burned her thin-
shoulders and she hides them well.
I want to kiss them.

Cart before horse?
I wonder if pain
is the entrance fee to love
or it's expression?