nothing concluded 136

who knew

or does

what this means

or doesn't

staring into the day

gray turned into

cement wall

freshly painted

wall of thought

behind it all

cave dweller

once high on the porch

above now below

ground still wondering

what it might mean

or doesn't

which side is more right

absolutely knowing

who is wrong and fearing

again the liar

might cheat passed

the average voter

nothing concluded

and my own dad

persuaded with fair

and balanced journalism

pack of lies

huddled and hurled

in the face of democracy

standing as he writes

for nearly now on

follow or lead

just be up front

giving your opinion

nothing concluded

may not have it

all figured out

still learning

as he goes onward

and deeper into debt

the American Dream

nothing concluded

where is he

going now

on and on...

nothing concluded 135

realizing luck

drawn lines in sand

or on the back of wall

I created for myself

some say self-absorbed

only one ever said it

to me in a letter

never saw her again

never will say it to my face

how terrible

the thought

how terrible

the words without

thought

some hidden anger

how lucky to be the teacher

stomping out that

original thought

that will spring up

in young minds

remember seeing this same

one drinking beers

between cars

drunk in the parking lot

college campus life

how many years ago

no one cares

as if I mention

how this night gets twisted

more ways than you know

who knew

or does

what this means

or doesn't

some thoughts

stick in the head

for years

or forgotten

in a minute

or two

back inside

day exhausted outside

forcing the sun

to show itself

for a minute or two

many thoughts

cramming the mind

might go crazy if not

medicated it's the new

American Dream

but this opinion

doesn't matter

it's what the collective

thinks that matters most

don't have time

find everything out

second hand

filtered by someone else

in the box tells us

it's news we listen

are we interested

or distracted by

it all becomes

an experiment

of some kind unwound

constantly changing

directions like wind

knocking down

the dead wood

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 134

watching hands

dizzy face

days become shorter

twisting the night away

locked in thought

dread in mind

hand in hair

twisting the night away

cross-eyed ruining

the straight line walk

idea just passing

or flashing

yellow slow down

take a good look

at what's all around

realize luck

drawn lines in sand again

once a week beach trips

as summer came and went

too fast not forgotten

night like this

always bring

out the stories

like earthworms on the driveway

after the rain

now I live on a hill

they will all slide into the mud

as the sounds of the night

get stranger each day

my Bible reading friends

came by again today

this time no one

was home to witness

and I just don't understand

their angle

truly care for I

am on my own spiritual

path which is constantly changing

like wind knocking down dead wood

nothing concluded...

horizontal

trapped by the dark
of this day
cold behind the eye
drives pain to work
at four thirty
waiting in the morning
feeling like a curse
not a cure
makes the mind
pace in circles
not back and forth
not a normal pace
too fast trapped
in the dark of the day
behind blinds
that become horizontal
bars but when does security
and protection become
paranoia and fear the throbbing
pain horizontal bars pounding
the inner eye
twisted words like those
on a glob of silly putty
or those in a cruel joke
only one took serious
maybe that's how the sword
pierced the eye
right through like a kabob
directions out of the fog
hanging daily morning over
the field before sunrise
wouldn't know it with all the clouds
trapped by the dark
of the day confined mind comfortable
on the horizontal cushion
confused by how many direction
the race becomes no point
running around in circles
with broken scissors...

nothing concluded 133

off the scale

into the reality

of the weight or wait

in anticipation

nothing concluded

at times

can't keep the eyes

open long enough

the thoughts flow

on and on

ten months from now

in Crestone

or twenty-eight

years ago

in this very spot

he sits amazed

at the history

of the table

beneath his book

line after another

the night air could

tell a thousand

tales or more if anyone listened

they would hear

tonight's opera

in the city in October

the sky is extra black

and stars are visible

amidst the city lights

nothing concluded

watching

as the hands spin

on the face

through the window

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 132

decision

to make it public

one night only possible

on the fours

three times a month

everyone invited

no one excluded

open minds discover truth

nothing concluded

too many lines on the page

thoughts expanding

off the meter with these

random ones streaming

as a river with

one more line

nothing concluded

a series years in the making

unending the serial

poet rests here

beside the point

thoughts filling books

while others do what they do

or don't

try to understand

the knots

under the brown hat

not so much in fear

anticipating danger

rather in awe

anticipating change

just a part of a whole

lot more thought

spread out over the years

nothing concluded

a mantra of sorts...

nothing concluded 131

back to life

nothing concluded

everything confusing

until truth we find

ourselves alone at times

staring at nothing

taking it all in

stride we take it

faster and faster

the old lady was right

we have got to stick

together fight the common

enemy those who chose

to hide the truth

from the deserving public

sounds in the distance

some recognizable

some strange

the dog's breathing

sometimes sounds forced

as if the truth

could be should be

first and foremost

of the time

last on the list

back to reality

where someone

should explain

nothing concluded

on two Popsicle sticks

the dead bird

my bro and I found

back yard buried

memorial

nothing concluded

someone will understand

actual comprehension

will only arrive

roundabout

beside the point

nothing concluded

just thoughts filling books

while others well

what do they do

with time he would be wasting

if he wasn't inspired

to move the pen

sings a song

if you listen long enough

you will hear something

no one else does this

watching the reflection

of the flame in my glasses

half full still the optimist

always dreamed of something

partially remembered

then slowly forgotten

completely

like 79 years

nothing concluded...

stand in front of

stand in front of 
not above

peace like a dove

all we need is love

lead us from the dark

with a spark 
silent like night at the park

no journey to embark

on now the stationary plow

through thick thought somehow

sit down in the rain like a cow

stand in front of 
just like you

peace like a dove 
we see right through...

smoky gray lines

under smoky light

swinging back and forth

between what's real and what's

his imagination creation

under smoky light straining

his eyes to read his own thoughts

where are they now

asking over and over

until someone sees what's written

between gray lines...

nothing concluded 130

are we still

supposed to be terrified

afraid to question

all we are told

because of the date

day for the patriot they say

but no true

patriot could miss

the actual true source

of the terror upon us

we are not the ones

truly hated it is our leaders

who put us all

in harms way

to complete their goals

and truth

we may never know

unless we dig deep and look

into every conflict

see who benefits

they may be pulling the strings

making everyone dance

to their violent tune

one of conquest

like days of old

the environment

said to be toxic

filled with bombs and death

when will sanity

be brought back

to life nothing concluded

everything confusing

until the truth we find

and then it might make

more sense

years of secrecy

need to end

land of the free

it's what we deserve

home of the brave

enough to question

what is done in our name

with our tax dollars

hard at work making death

nothing concluded...

moonshine

watching as eyes
start to slowly close
even in this sleep
keeping an eye on the glow
cool night air
sleep before eyes
doesn't stop the look to the sky
moon shining it's own light
reflecting in these eyes
staring in the right direction...

nothing concluded 129

a chill in

tonight's air

sweatshirt

hair wet

cold

made contact

with brother

and sister tonight

felt it necessary

up later

an ash slowly

burning the leg

thought he had

sirens go all night long

hospital and fire station

within walking distance

good to know still

nothing concluded

good to know just the same

just in case

enjoying the silence

just thought to mention

to drive that point home

a bit clear the air

remove any doubt

nothing concluded

not negative

just ongoing

five or six lines

depending on the mood

at times lonely at night

the whole world sleeps

and this mind won't stop

end to the day few minutes

turned to two hours eyes shut...

nothing concluded 128

how many times
has it begun
in a different year
serial poet same point
nothing concluded

again measuring space
by five or six
at the most if the phone
continues to ring
will someone answer

he sits on the porch
third porch he's known
one with years of comfort
built into the knotty pine walls
so far so good so long

as long as he gets up
each morning
even working for someone else
isn't that bad some days
worse than others

won't understand
nothing concluded
a continuum where no thing
is excluded and everything
imaginable mentioned

until exhaled
mind wise and by the pen
in hand ready
to retire for the day at least
not as late

as it once was
when always alone
putting down this
thought not long ago
before the end

was begun and operation
dropped everything was
one the mind
though true destination
was unknown

the thought remained
until fully diminished
nothing concluded
not late on time or early
five lines or six I forget

can't kick the habit
another load
to drag behind me as I go
head high
nothing concluded...

burns away

watching as the day burns
away until night time and bright
eyes look into his own
possibly not even realizing
the strength until recently
the bond tight as the rope
we all walk daily as a part of the
life long balancing act
sometimes all the thoughts
studder step
their way through the pen
and onto the written page

watching as the day
burns away waiting until
comfort wraps around him
like a blanket in the summer
because the fan cools everything
down under comfort's arms
holding hands as he falls asleep...

do it anyway

830/2003 (930pm)

no one tells him he's

got to get this much done

in this amount of time

he just moves the pen at

a steady pace and someday

surely someone will see it

for what it is random thought

captured like snap shots

of the purple sunset sky

tonight how else might another

know of sights seen thoughts

out loud with pen and the sounds

tonight night frighten if revealed

to be more than fireworks

in a city that is more of a large town

where no one tells him he's

got to write this or that might

not be what another might see

hear think but that's the point

under the right conditions anyone

can throw down words on the page

how many will stop to appreciate

the moonlit sky

and how many will stay indoors

in front of programmed entertainment

no one tells him he's got to do the things

he does but he does

in spite of it all

whether anyone can appreciate the time

it takes or how it sounds spoken

or read out loud with no one

tell him to stop

start back up as soon

as they leave he's made

the decision to do it anyway...

as if invisible

as if invisible

he sits facing

another wall waiting

for it to crumble

so he can

proceed unobstructed

full speed ahead

full of nervous habits

none of which

can be broken

with ease

of driving a truck

through a snow bank

in august but the whole

earth is getting warmer

eventually he and the others

might struggle to the breath

everyone will have to carry

portable artificial lungs

to cleanse the air

before consumption

silly to think all the humans

have done will have no effect

even if this life is the only one

chance and what if it isn't

what difference does that make

now present day

as the wars rage

killing those who have nothing

at all to do with the heart

of the matter never told true

reasons for anything

so that everyone will just fall into

place there has got to be more

to it but why is getting along in this world

so low on the list of priorities

right next to taking care of

the only home given to all...

probably never see

this is probably one
of the largest books he's ever
written in but those reading
printed text would never know
nor will they ever see his strange
handwriting style most
poetry he has read has been
printed as well as all the books
he has read
he often wonders though
how much character is lost
when it becomes a book in print
what does the author express
in their handwriting can you tell the mood
by the handwriting of the writer
easy to read others as he has seen
are absolutely illegible
and so the printed version would be favored
and what does all this ramble mean
for you to decide as he scribbles away
in his extra-large lined leather journal that
you will probably never see...

at our fingertips

really just don't understand
the mindset of some
those whose hopes and dreams
are not their own
but preplanned just like
everyone else
easy to buy into
what about what we really want
what's really important
step into a realm where understanding
holds importance the day
is not spent in pursuit
of what others dictate
our own minds must flourish
under less pressure
and no stress we have to learn
to let it go in between
bouts with self doubt
we should realize potential
each one of us holds
deep within or at
our fingertips...

explanation

it is a city
and I spell the name
incorrectly
but I have a reason
it's not an enormous city
as far as cities go
it's relatively small
but it's not a town
it's bigger
or a big town
Brocktown...

explore

what kind of strength
does it take
to be patient enough
to be a part of a positive change
moving forward with speed
and agility overcoming
the downest days
because of the highest
smiles trying very hard
not to be the pest
what kind of mind
does it take to explore
thoughts constantly...

only minutes

only minutes since
eyes last touched beauty
the smile that makes the worries
of the day fly far and fast
only minutes now
until unconsciousness
side by side asleep
awake in our dreams
only minutes until the dog
snores a bit and the cat pulls at the door
wonder what they think
and if they don't
what are they looking at
and squawking about
only minutes until who knew
one year ago who knows
what another year will bring
only minutes most each one
appreciated as if
there are only minutes left
on the clock in between
breaths hear the movement
from another room
only minutes until
this quiet time shared
together in thought
nothing can compare
and the fan circulates
enough air only minutes
until morning seems
to arrive too fast...

new way to smile

wonder what
my brother is doing
far from home
but right at home
in the mountains
a teacher to many
including his brother
hoping again soon
he will visit the east coast
stay awhile maybe through
holidaze or new year's eve
wonder what his son
has learned today
maybe discovering
a new way to smile...

follow your own rules

the light changes to green
and he doesn't go
he sits and they pass
with their obscenities
on their way to church
no doubt and he knows
he is holding up the flow
of things on an early morning
ride where he just wants to slow down
for one brief moment
the day will no doubt be
run here run there
on time and late
but follow your own rules
and make the path you follow
mean something other than
being one in the herd
not understanding your mission
light turns yellow
pulls into the intersection
divided in half by the double line
on the other side
traveling in the wrong lane at times
stronger than another as they turn
when his high beams stare them down
he hears the familiar whistle
knows little or nothing
about the slow limp
and pipe cleaner Joe dropped
what he couldn't hold
fell down the stairs
next time he might follow
his own rules and
not worry about what another
might do because he will
and you lose
follow your own rules...

for what it's done

don't want to stop
thinking about it
because something
has to facilitate the change
is as inevitable as the movement
of the tide eroding the shore
corporatism will surely
erode liberty
can't stop thinking
about it is the controllers
who turn everyone into
hungry consumers
and workers for the corporations
who are the controllers
looking at all they created
then liberty taken
right under our noses
as we sleep on the system
saying it could be worse
and it could and it will
if we let it get bigger
and be the solution
when corporatism is the problem
and needs to be recognized
and held accountable...

just sitting here

sitting here
and not wanting to work
someone else's profit
and just stacking it
getting so old
where is the profit
for the work I do
and I have the choice
to stay home
be one of those guys
doesn't go to work
because he can get away
with staying home
and getting paid
realizing it might be
one of his final
choices whether or not
to just sit here all day...

looks like he feels

they keep pouring out
as he twists his hair
and thinks of strength
of one lock and they
tell him he looks foolish
and maybe he does
but he looks like he feels
not everyone thinks for themselves
and sometimes he will wait all day
to see the smile
then ruled too strange
for the moment
not the appropriate
time for laughter...

many things to mind

thirteen days is a lot of time
between thoughts and pages
stuck together
with dried coffee spilled
thirteen days ago
he remembers being
in a similar spot
it was probably raining
and the country is fighting
in wars that won't soon end
no matter what they say
no matter how many die in the sand
of a foreign land thirteen days later
does anyone actually feel safer
deeper in thought who knows
if anyone is even thinking
thirteen days later the world
has gone mad some will sneak
through with pockets filled
with truth not beans
but will they be heard
by the fearful masses
who beg to be freed from their ignorance
thirteen days of silence
and bettering oneself
might prove more productive
means to allowing a peace to flourish
rather than the annoying rash
of decals window press ons
supporting what or whom
thirteen days bring
many things to mind...

ongoing conversation

church bells in the distance

and suddenly the continuation

of the strangest conversation

it’ll all be on the board

when the card players

sit around the table

discussing the business at hand

twenty minutes pass

in the slow blink of a tired eye

church bells every fifteen minutes

until time tells them

to sound no longer

watching the small black dog

suddenly in the presence of all kinds

of rapid thoughts running circles

in the mind sore from much meditation

on nearly every thought but

maybe he is all wrong

and all of these words

are part of his elaborate imagination

back and forth as the sun descends

no guilt for his lack of rhyme

you’ve got the let the mind

free to think what it will

as words enter and exit

too quick to catch

all at once slow it down

or read it backwards…

land in the back yard

the low flying plane

sounds like it will land

in the back yard

it is wonderful to sit

on the back porch

so many places he might rather be

sometimes the desire is to be

around other people

and constantly wonder what they are thinking

as they move from spot to spot

some hurry and some move slowly

but surely with a purpose

aside from taking up space

it might be needed by the important few

that orchestrate the symphony

of the many does anyone do this

thinking out loud on his porch

he can hear the laughter and sadness

and some of the silent whisperings

of the neighborhood at least one

snap shot is definitely not enough

room to capture it all

the plane is circling back

he is sure of it…

3 pages and it fades

three pages separate

him and the end

of another collection of thought

the most random type

still quite methodical

the purpose none other than

the thoughts themselves

three pages until he feels

as though he has accomplished

another chapter of thought

but some would always rather

not think about much

except getting to work

for someone else mind you

and it’s not important to

work on the self

three pages until number fifty-two

complete ready for the random selection

to be born into the next volume

of random thoughts

brought to you by none of than

himself

three pages in between

now and then when

new thoughts lie

before other’s eyes to read

and wonder no more

about what goes on in the mind

random thought processor

realizing he won’t soon

close the gap with this thought

as it fades into the night…