pencil thought

on the front step

under the ledge

off to the right

first snow storm

turned windy

and driving rain

an inch and a half

becomes a slushy mess

to walk or drive through

the neighbors driving

to and from their houses

don't notice me sitting here

scribbling in pencil

my thoughts written

while others go about

their day quite differently

keeping a collection of thoughts

some might call them random...

12 hours ago

twelve hours ago
the day began
ice under feet
where water at sunset yesterday
closer and closer
to the shortest day of the year

twelve hours ago
and I am still tired of the grind
can't say for sure
if I love my job or what I do
only can say I love where I am at
trying to stay positive everyday

twelve hours ago
rubbing the sleep from eyes
weary definitely had enough sleep
weary as hell when the day first began
now quite sore from the days work
like everyday

twelve hours pass in
the blink or an eye
or two...

nothing concluded 185

what really matters

or doesn't

wake up and live

master the walk

you walk daily

thinking at random

as always

unavoidable

some just won't

pay attention

everything that is being said

but thought instead

then write it down

so it won't get lost

somewhere

along the way

back to when it all began

Sunday afternoon

full day of work behind

thoughts ahead

most likely all night

and through the morning

and on what is it being

said if anything at all

nothing concluded...

orange blaze

sun setting and the wind blows
it's colder as December is only days away
some birds will stick around all year
and you can hear the wind crawling
down the street bending everything
that doesn't break on it's way by
it keeps on going with no destination

at one time I thought I had it all
but everything was material
and I left it all behind
except my books and my music
still trying to find my favorite songs
after two years still laying out pages
of poetry to be read and judged
at a later date

luckily the page is white or else
it would be hard to see as the sun
disappears behind back yard trees
far off on the horizon there is
an orange blaze glowing
it's today's last light
thoughts being collected here
so they might light me sleep
tonight without restlessness...

stands back

maybe he's not cut out to be
the dad they need
trying to be a better person
in the process
imperfections stare him down nightly
sometimes his desire is
to smash the glass
but he stands back
and breathes in the positive
exhales the negative
the day brought with it
his heart is filled with love
for a family and he wants it
to include three former strangers
one being the love of his life

maybe he's exactly what they need
another imperfect soul to connect
and be there for support
and defend them if need be
there are so many thoughts
they don't even know
what to make of him
and the unraveling of his mind
daily onto page after page
in book after book
until everyone understands...

nothing concluded 184

same theme for so many years

changing as the world around

changes all around if there

exists an actual plan whose

plan is it and who is it for

same beat up older mind

tripping and falling so many

times he might as

well walk on knees and

say a prayer while he is down

nothing concluded never

had a plan only title to

start with and a constant

pen pusher seated at the

blank page steering wheel

plain and simple an idea

of an idea of an idea and on

somewhere until the hand

loses the ability to be the

go between for the mind

the book may get old and

pages creased but words

and the thoughts that

put them in their

place will never die

the story may never be told

properly exhausting every

detail randomly or in order

of time and importance

these volumes may remain

handwritten eternally the writer's

worst nightmare staring

into tired eyes just wanting

to find that inner peace

nothing concluded...

thoughts while reading Frost

under clouds and in the dark
beside himself with thoughts
the pen the page the words
the soil the seeds for a future harvest
keeping the thinker sane
away from some thoughts
and closer to others
putting things in order
and revising older thoughts
as they grow with the thinker
growth forces change
directional change doesn't mean
the focus has to change

under cold conditions
still outside after dark
culling the soil and germinating
seeds someday that fruitful harvest
will come with confidence
everyday is dealt with evenly
and with great care trying to peel
back each layer upon layer
of history and thought
and a harvest that will
last until the last thinker
closes that book on thinking
and experiencing and learning

under a loneliness he creates
not intention merely side effect
not widely discussed or talked about
and forgotten fire burns the feet
everyday but the hand held is warm
and comfortable and never to be let go of
and connected to an island paradise
and permanently tattooed in the mind...

destroyed mind

this mind is destroyed
so much at stake
every day patience
worn thin as these pants
I sit in day after day
shoes torn on the sides
barely covering the right foot

this mind is destroyed
rerunning through all
these mistakes and hurt brought
on others time after time
flipping through old thoughts
trying to make them new again

this mind is destroyed
by only me and in front of me sits
the mistakes I have yet to make
and the people I have yet to hurt
truly hope none of these
bad thoughts hold onto this
destroyed mind

this mind is destroyed
daily to make room
for new creative genius
emerging from under clouds
and heavy rain
the sun was shining
all day long…

warm for November

sitting on the front step like back in Brockton

fifteen years ago the house looked different then

both grandfathers were alive

they knew what we were up against

the poet might not have a style

maybe random regular people bull shit

every day worker  bull shit

both grandfathers strong fighters until the bitter end

as if the end of life could be anything but bitter

the poet might not always find the positive thoughts

somehow pushing through stronger for that determination

sitting front step in a cloud warm for the middle of November

they say it’s a rainy month and the poet soaks

it all in like a thought sponge tired of the grind

both grandfathers stressed how tiring it would get

no matter how hard you work

you will always be tired still they enjoyed

every minute they could…

higher learning

contemplating a change
to challenge the mind
twisting it into an different
space allowing it to expand
on and on
as it should be
has been all along
and has with life
all it’s challenges
the pen has never had
a chance to rest
none of these current
volumes allowed to gather dust
contemplating a change
in a specific direction
focus still on the heart
and who fills it
and this will not change
need to only let
the mind expand
and not get trapped
behind all the words
only needs the encouragement
of the loved
and the determination
to push towards a more comfortable
end to justify the means
call it survival creation
a new outlet to pour on
some of this random thought…

said it before

the country 
has been hijacked
said it before
getting worse 
by the day
we as a people 
need to be willing 
to fight 
for our republic…

traditionally

it’s tradition to start the new volume
within minutes of finishing the last
one thought at a time
poured out onto the table
even if it is portable
even if it is on my lap
out in the cold of a cloudless night

it’s tradition to write out in the cold
or down in that hole
with no one to witness
the power words have
in this life to this writer
breathing this smoke
hoping it isn’t doing too much damage
knowing it can’t be good
somehow it helps unravel this mind
traditionally…

where I take it

from beginning to end

in one place again

finally able to realize home

where I take it

not where I may live

from beginning to end

only hearing the sounds

people in their yards

not the constant traffic

the city where I lived

see the reflection of the sun

as it sets earlier tonight

through the trees behind me

somehow always facing

the west at this time

with me daily where I take it

in this place I don't need direction

home is where I am

the road has turned now many times

following the path I make as I step

from beginning to end

everyday a step forward

never giving up patience is the key

unlocking hope behind and one day

dreams realized

from beginning to end

in one place again

finishing a book

finally able to see that home

where I take it

not where I may have lived...

throw some strange

the mind plays tricks
focusing on the broken
when there is nothing to fix
life is a struggle
that fact is never going to change
life will throw you some good
then it will throw the really strange
downright confusing
never letting go of what matters most
even falling to the ground
helping each other out
half full or half empty
the glass is still a cup
fill it to the top
and lift yourself up
a new found height
no matter how tough
worth every bump and bruise
life is a struggle
that is not going to change
forget being normal
life throws a lot of strange...

we will all be broke

how many have attempted

to stand strong and hold their ground

against tyranny and the hypocrisy of now

short bursts of thought strategically placed

buried within tons of other thoughts

and things that might not make sense to most

at least some will not give up the fight for the republic

if the people don’t have the opportunity

to make more money how is the economy

ever going to get any better

the question answers itself

maybe a population bailout

what the people really need

not a bunch of bankers taking more

money for themselves a matter of time before

everyone will be working for the government

because only the government will have money

and we will all be broke…

american cheese

corporate greed

sneaking slowly

into a unique market

based on customer service

and delivering a little extra

thought would be to organize

but to what end

little guy shooting himself

in the foot while the other foot

stomped on by corporate greed…

new world order

bankers rule the world

they hold politicians

by strings we do not have

a government of by and for

the people instead have

a government in debt

to the bankers who rule the world…

thought spot

sounds of the night

bringing my awareness

to some sort of centering

point within the October breeze

it moves the trees

reminding him to enjoy the moment

soon winter will have its way

with this thought spot…

another sinkable ship

how many care or even know

we live in a republic

can anyone remember the pledge

of allegiance how many care to know

we have been hi-jacked

a criminal elite group of bankers

willing to sink this republic

like the titanic or some other

sinkable ship October twenty-one

fighting the new world order

one thought at a time… 

warm today

extra warm today

feels like the end

of summer

not the beginning of fall

the boy shoots

invisible enemies

and I just mowed the lawn…

break from reality

everyone enjoys the break from reality

some choose to live in it

wishing they were really there

when reality says they cannot be

anywhere else except here right now

everyone enjoys the break from reality

imagine being brought up in it

thinking the television is a member

of the family a brainwashed society

growing up to believe the reality showed

is comparable to any reality here

everyone enjoys the breaks from reality

a book with plenty of words

or none at all until thoughts explode into words

everyone enjoys the break from reality

a walk around the block at sunset

to clear the mind can do the same

if not more than the television

distorting reality… 

take hold and take over

no longer in the noisy diner

drinking the cold coffee

smoking cigarettes turned into cigars

back steps turned into front deck

two floors up then back porch enclosed

basement isolated reborn outside miles away

and ten years can do a lot to a man

still a stranger to myself

introducing him to me

everyday reinventing

what it was wanted

ten years ago and still

today lies dormant

waiting to take hold

and take over… 

watching you through sliding glass

watching you through the sliding glass door

feel your warmth from fifteen feet away

what are you thinking as I am outside

thinking of only you

cold now where I sat summer sweating

every single day as I want to do no wrong

no move no spoken of no thought not

transmitted somehow to you

might take a few days for you to sift

through all these thoughts

you will gather them and see

few stray from the center

my focus happens to be you

in case you didn't know

watching you keep warm in the cold

tonight my favorite time of day

approaches quickly said it's your favorite too

when you eyes gently shut

resting to welcome tomorrow

positive thoughts and vibrations

all our future together...

pen hand resting

thoughts don’t stop

even while the pen hand

is resting even though

it might fall asleep

during daylight hours

piled up sometimes

it’ll give me a headache too

until I open a blank book

and unload as if into a target
and this pen my gun…

mental state

still scribbling in these books

the sixteen year old

calls me a psycho

what does she know
about my mental state…

now we know for sure

people still tend to believe

it’s about right or left

proof in first months of change

now we know, for sure

no change the government gives us

is going to be any better

the wars aren’t headline news

yet they still rage and our soldiers still die fighting

the economy is worse than they say it is

worse than ever before

now we know, for sure

no one within government

is going to really help any one of us

now we know, for sure

that Wall St. and the international

bankers run the show

and protect their power

limiting the freedom of speech

those who are defending our republic

who will help us when tyranny

truly takes over in a city near you

now we know, for sure

that something must be done…

still stacking fruit

seems so much later than it is
listening to the night sounds
on the deck looking skyward
never could see stars from where I sat in Brockton
now in a town called Hanson
and so many stars
but it's early still
the air is not quite cold only cool
breeze barely bending
trees completely surrounding traffic heard from a far
enough distance it barely breaks the silence
seems so much different
only ten miles south-east
closer to the ocean
if I ever learn to swim
hear more planes overhead
than cars on the road where I live now rest my head
after a long week
still stacking the fruit after all these years...

nothing concluded 183

looking back into

a twelve year old thought

in a completely

different place

one lucky to have found

wearing a winter hat

with no hair under

and the real cold

still two months

away from tonight

new members of family

found and created

never thought of

twelve years before

tonight remembering

what the mind

was like back then

can I even remember

lived where my brother lives

and sister lived

before her move

out of the country

Brazilian by marriage

we look at the same

moon different vantage point

looking through my fields

for new thoughts

may have been planted

twelve years ago

still growing

the cat is younger

than this thought

only a couple

months as he visits

the left arm tonight

time flies when

you take the time

to sit and think

about it for long enough

you might get lost

in memories

some still feeling

like just the other day

somethings are constant

knowing at least, nothing concluded....

the undoing of the US

the president has now become

the head of the UN security council

he is swearing an oath

to uphold the laws of the UN

what happened to the US Constitution

in Pittsburgh all assembly deemed unlawful

everyone is treated as if they are criminals

in action the real criminals are above the law

and it is disgusting and we are doomed

as a republic if we allow this undoing to take us

and our freedom from questioning our leaders

following the lead of history’s tyrants controlling

any and everything they can and will impose

martial law whenever they can they will

using the same weapons on citizens

as they do on countries at war with

we are not the enemies

they meet to discuss dumping the dollar

for a world currency to enslave

us once and for all if we aren’t already…

nothing concluded 182

still as the rain

comes down

and cold finds it's way

through denim

on dry cement

all these years

teaching that

everything is a

constant cycle of change

might be all I have

at this moment

digging into poor man's

pockets though the family

is tighter than ever

every member struggling

carrying the cross laid

on the back

high on the shoulders

never heavy enough

to break the will

to move on

when one is weak

the others pull together

tighter to avoid

any further slip

into the hole

so deep others

might never escape

the cat still visits

me were I sit thinking

with pen in hand

a whole new

group of people

to try to please

as if possible

never any conclusions

made all the way

back to the end

of ninety-six

who would've guessed

here today

better off

but still

struggling

nothing concluded...

something is missing

always liked it when the sound surrounds

and moves from side to side

with nowhere to hide not a cloud in the sky

after a day with all sun it went away

about seven fifteen and it’s expected

to be shorter every day from June to December

still it isn’t something easily prepared for

everything is dying as the days shorten

one week since the family dog passed

even the cat has noticed that something is missing…

all the way every day

here I sit thinking about you tonight

and all I have to be thankful for with you in my life

pen in hand from the beginning catching every thought I can say

perfectly positioned to give and receive love with strength

you have become the most important part of my life

back only a few years but ahead until

I can see no more beyond time and what we know

right before eyes knowing you changed me first encounter

tonight another beautiful night adding to the stack we build

here together for all to know

day after day counting blessings you have brought to me

and appreciating every minute of our love and life together

you are my life and I love you all the way…

might take longer

thought sixty-one

book of the same number

stacked side to side

creating a wall of thought

or maybe just a fence

not keeping anything

in or out no spikes at the top

not protecting not confining

might even stray from behind

or invite others to join

add or take something away

and pass it on spread the thought

whatever it might be

just as random as the next

or the last one

had only moments ago

worry about the uncontrollable

only creates negative

among positive pages

turned by only one

until a clean one is reached

only to be littered with more

random thoughts explode onto the page

fill another book quicker than the last

or slower as the case might be…