Never A Conversation To Be Had

One day,

I won’t feel cold,

even though winds blow,

days won’t mean anything,

but for others’,

like they used to be,

falling rains will still fall,

after scents of freshly cut grass,

will never seem to fade,

though they will,

and the sun will rise,

as so a moon will too,

and for those who feel,

they will see,

but for the tired,

it’s just a reminder,

that time is going past,

time that never ceases,

even when it does.


A Life Abridged

First there was nothing,

but an unconvinced dark,

till an unexpected spark,

I suppose it was a lark,

a time spelled later,

a body,

a life,

through worldly ways,

humanities strife,

till one day,


recalled as a past gone life.

Frozen Still

Water and winds,

 February till May,

a bleakness,

a staling,


day’s of staring,


out my pictured,

window pane,

always grainy,


a kinda gray,

you’d easily,

dismiss away,

but after awhile,

it seems to stick with you,

not quite like glue,

more like an invisible,

sticky hue,

making it hard to shake away,

grey’s of a intermittent day,

I can’t wait,

to chafe it all away.

Expected Consistencies


blown past,


here and there fast,

sometimes last year leaves,

caught in mucky mire,

dried and died buried under,

trampled unnoticed forgotten,

as the world goes on anon along,

becoming this years icy memories.

Don’t Kill Me, The Messenger

Every breath,

takes us,

one breath,

closer to death,

every single step,

in an undestined,


so we must remember,

to be kind,

I’ll never understand,

this unimagined hate,

it leaves me,

without words,


cause sadness,

partly cause,

I don’t want,

to be confronted,

so for now,

I’m simply,

a tired theater goer,

waiting for,

a better play,

a stage without rage,


they script a new page,

perhaps something good,

on page 92.

Of Half A Century


It’s been,

such a long time,




fifty years,

and sunset,

looms around,

shadowy corners’,

so many,

changing leaves,


and falling,

so many,

snow falls,

and summer’s,


and teaming,

so many,


of dreaming,

as dawn’s break,

when I awake,

day’s away,

I tire,

but still,

I rise.