Category Archives: Poems

Showtime

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The morning after
The lights gone
Neck sore
Could do it all the more
Evenings wrapped in wool
Sweating out heart full
Of blood pumping through veins
Pushing life on a constraint
My mind calls critics
While my hands respond
Sweat dripping down my chin
On soft linens my body demands rest
The ultimate evening test
Lights burn the floors
Tanning the evenings chords
Stress flows with tangible discourse
While the evening runs it course
Fans happy and bouncing
Through the set and over
I wake at mid morning
Head beating the latest warning
But ready I am to move on
Life lived in a rock song

The Glass Hand

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Water swells and summer grass

Sand upon the evening glass

The contrast of light on dark

Upon the sky a velvet spark

A small haze of grey from cars and trucks

Full in the sky a lagoon

A muck

Creating and burning a sunset so sweet

But the sweetness is no real treat

It burns through smoke created

For all the bustling intimidated

Water gelling lapping on concrete hard

White peers waltzing on summer’s fluid

Trees lurk over houses full

Of human

And dog

And cat

Running around on the grass flat

In circles splashing on summer lawns

Fences full of splendor and hate

Making other wait

For a calling or a sweat drop

Around the corner the fruit shop

Building concrete burning in summer sun

Construction men counting seconds

Until they are done

Trains passing and divulging whistles

Upon the hills of southern Michigan

They pass with coal burning bright

Flashing lights on this summer night

The whistles whilst me to sleep

As the my eyes fall

And summer creeks

A summer day in this land

My thoughts fall through the glass hand

Constricted Constrained and Confused

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Constricted constrained and confused

The moment lies in being used

Or to entertain

I am now bemused

To join these two thought

To create a soothing fluid

Of constant reminders

Of what happened in the past

In the moments viewed

Through the glass

Making my eyes see the world

Around me

That is the confining thought

I cannot see without them

In the summers brought

New ideas and constraints

The glasses around me

My new mind contains

Drumming Back Then

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Delivering mail was the nine to five

With bills to pay

It was well short of the glamorous life

He had been a musician since he was young

Didn’t care for guitars

Didn’t care about the way he sung

Drumming had grabbed him right away

Counting rhythms out loud

And learning how to play

Dreamed of moving to Nashville

To aid in that Nashville sound

But life moves fast

And his chance never came around

He still plays on the weekend

To make some spare change

It is more just a simple means

To a simple end

But he wonders of what life could have been

Had he jumped off the deep end

Learning to swim as he goes

Where this all would take him

He truly does not care to know

I met him buying some drums

Sells them out of his basement

Best guy in Indiana

Drums that sound like true cannons

I believe his story and feel it quite familiar

A story told by so many players similar

Never wanted to test the waters

Looking back years later

With thoughts of what could have been

Of what life was life

And what opportunities life provided

Back then

Wide Eyed Disdain

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Eyes disdain in disbelief

Holding red lines of grief

Have not slept in a couple days

Not quite sure what this says

Words fold into each other

Bending softly and creating another

Having no real meaning to my brain

As my thoughts slow like a clogged drain

This poem is nothing more than a flow

I will let the words take me

Wherever it might go

Letting go

Is the theme distinct in my mind

A sign of the changing time in my life

Letting go and doing

Rather than talking and maneuvering

Away from steps I am taking

In a forward motion

To keep one foot ahead

On the road crushing pebbles and stones

Moving my body forward

Into the unknown

That is where I begin

The other ends

The new beginning is upon my breath

A feeling invigorating and true

Taking me away to someplace new

I will write with one eye open

The other rests

And rests

While the mind is left open

 

Rampant Road Rager

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What’s the rush for
Car can’t go much more
Flip the bird
Ride the bumper
I have no care for road rage
The lines pass in disdain
The burning look of pure anger
And pain
It is a shame that we have to deal with this
But these clowns run rampant in this town
Bringing even the good natured folks down
You see anger building up in faces surrounding
The engine revs in the burn sounding
Making each driver grab the wheel a little tighter
Pressing the gas a little harder
Staying ahead of the daemon driver
Keep up with traffic
An urban surviver
Look alive in this city
Stay on your toes
The rampant road rager
Will always be
Everywhere you go

Late Night

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Late night conversation
Red wine and saltines
The faded evening scene
The sun has rested for hours
As the conversation chatters on
A good night with friends
Can not be mistaken
For words gone wasted
Legs cold from sitting
Sore throat
A nights weary rest
And mornings early note

Birds of the City

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Would city birds leave if they could
Fly away from the skyscrapers and sirens
Over the lake to Michigan and rest
To land no longer on towers but trees soft and green
To escape the busy city scene
Or do they enjoy the rush
Soaring from tower to tower
Picking up scraps from late night prowlers
Living off the city streets
Begging to make ends meet
This is their home and ours
We share it willfully but not willingly
Would we dismiss all of these birds
Shunned away from the city, scourged
But the what would float from rooftop to rooftop
Making its way with wings expanded and strong
Calling out in its evening song
They are part of the landscape of this city
They too are the blood pumping in the veins underground
Keeping us connected to nature in the cement ground
I look up to see a bird fly by
This keeps me connected to the life
That lies beyond these city skies