dizzy most of the time

no one else can
he turn it around again
alone with the pen
pointing him back
in the right direction
does he have the courage
to keep on walking
backwards at times
dizzy most of the time
doesn't move
suddenly four hours pass
something back to him
fly to the next level
of thought
he knew where he was standing
hoping to have made sense
by now the vision distorted
psychotropic spins taking over
darkness all around the edges
are sharp and so many cuts
creating space in the mind
spiraling out of control
regain consciousness
only moments ago
could have easily been
a couple of days
since he knew who he was
trying to turn it around
on a narrow street
that ends at a lake
and the sun sets
behind the trees...

been there before

the cat

he knows me best

twelve years

have had him with me

since he could curl up in my hand

now curls up next to my arm

the one that hold this pen

and after all these years

and changes

he still knows me best

he can't tell me

how I am doing

but he constantly lets me know

that he is here with me

when no one is here

to talk or listen

he looks my way

as if to say it's okay

we've been there before

we'll make it again

standing stronger

no matter how many times

I fall...

lifetime momentum

there is still a chill in the air
sometimes hard to breathe deep
and appreciate life goes by so fast
barely enough time to enjoy
why worry about anything little
or what others might think
superficial thoughts of a perfection
that only exists in the unreal world
they show us on television

there is still a light in the sky
after six o'clock
and there is always something
positive to think about
time we appreciate everything
and move passed the thoughts
that keep us locked down below
the lowest low the highest high
might be right around some corner
we can't even see

there is still time
in this life to move onward
and upward
with momentum that's been
building for a lifetime...

you never know

spring arrives again
left not knowing
what to say to anyone
about these thoughts
the ones that rattle the mind
standing still then moving
the pen sideways
until the page is covered
with scribbles of all shapes and sizes...

probably never be one of those
classic poets read by millions
but you never know
the wind may change this ant hill
into a mountain
how ever the saying goes
and more hours pass like minutes
tomorrows keep coming
despite any resistance
he puts up an umbrella
in the rain and somehow
still gets wet...