obstacles to crash

some days reaching down deep

never deep enough

the hole dug is too deep

escape through the floor

lie on the floor

melt into and through the floor

roll over outside inside

keep changing the spot always

hearing whispers but realize

finally those are the thoughts

when the pen rests

on the table or in a pocket

where I go when I rest

in a pocket of peace

can create nearly anywhere

somewhere want to be somewhere

so many places this mind

needs to see chained to a job

how strong stuck mentally

in mud pushing forward

never quite out of the mud

the mind makes obstacles to crash

through everyday all day

made it through another day

positive thoughts sharing them profusely

somewhere out there

someone will get it…

perfect for skipping rocks

a mission to turn

someone else onto

the thinking that

there is a better way

back when I was young

thoughts were simple

ideas stacked up

knock them down

learned a lot and unlearned more

since back then when everything

was simple like the day

and beautiful like the night

and who is writing it down

for people like me

want to think

and that’s exactly what I do

but what am I doing

poetry or random thoughts

no longer filled with anger or sadness

left it in the pages behind

forward progression

the positive struggle

to leave the world a little better

than when I found it

find it still every day and night

knowing most people aren’t thinking

for themselves or about hurting each other

but what do I know where do I go

grew up reading too much

listening to the original street music

as it was born big boom boxes

and even bigger headphones

heavy bass and even played drums for a bit

never dropped the pen though

unless to the page like the needle to a record

simple ideas to end the day

couple of cardinals in the tree

and a family of rabbits in the brush

hardly alone in this place near the still pond

no wind perfect for skipping rocks…

looking across the pond

reflecting

the sky above the pond

slight ripple right

across the surface

can’t really label this anymore

it has no real definition

simply put whatever comes out

thoughts pushing pen across

the page slight ripple right

in the hand collecting

arming the self for resting days

sandwiched between non-stop

busy days in the workplace

sometimes an under the skin

annoyance to have to waste half the day

how else does one survive

the other half putting words down

on pages for others to contemplate

or maybe just to settle my own mind

in this chaotic world…

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night before sunrise

wonder if I will rise in time

to see first light

everything is covered

with pollen dusty yellow

roads and cars and trees

wonder if he will have breakfast

alone again standing at the railing

melting the brain through the pen

moving slightly to the sounds

in the ears responsible

for at least half the inspiration

other half is completely visual

and it is the reason he believes

words on the page still have a purpose

no need to be plugged in

to open up a book

“I am not much of a reader…”

it’s what he constantly hears

give it a try again

for the first time maybe

what will be lost

a little time and a few thoughts

might not use them anyway

as long as the sun rises

these words can be seen

wonder if I will rise in time

to see first light…

first born

they tell me the seed was planted north of the border
on a camping trip to New Brunswick
how many others have this kind of information
always wondered if this little known fact
makes me Canadian by conception
the idea that started the strong family unit
first born I am part of it
son of a nurse and a teacher
don’t think I could have picked a better combination
and it wasn’t long before I had a brother and a sister
the five of us are tight like a fist
raised high like some praise
respect love encouraging individuality
none of us are the same
the outstretched five fingers
connected to the same hand
one love never showing my appreciation enough
want to dedicate all my thoughts
any success or fortune found
because of the strong foundation
on which I stand
through all the misfortune and mistakes
and nearly forty years never so much
as scratched the foundation
on which I stand
determination as first born
to produce something for the future
and since I have no child I will
leave no thought behind
putting words down as daily as possible
father gave me his pensive wisdom
mother nurtured me caringly
brother taught me introspective adventurous compassion
sister is happiness’ faithful determination
and I am first born
the least I can do is write it all down…

value her more

value her more

than anyone at times

been through

so many ups and downs

watching her grandson

almost forty paint the same

deck her husband did

every few years

who could’ve imagined

value every smile

how could I refuse an omelet

hard work thoughts driving home

not wanting to leave her sight

but she’s her own boss still

takes care while everyone keeps an eye out

value every story

and all the memories she keeps

in that top drawer

relaxing in the same chair

so much love in the little lady

call her my g-ma…