warmest hour today

almost two years without

a thought blowing through these leaves

out from one volume and into the next

hour will probably be warmest  of the day

especially if the wind continues to blow

so hard the trees bend as this mind

struggles to find the next word

before the thought is gone

somewhere else just like that

closeness of two

and eye cannot understand

almost two years

because it patiently waited

for sixty-two to be finished

another empty bowl to fill

as often as eye allows

as sudden and strong as sun burst

from behind quick moving clouds

making two years seem like a minute

book has been closed and now

eye all in it moving forward

leaving behind what is unnecessary

in the journey from now until

whenever it makes sense…

in blue & green

if it did make sense

something would have to change

in order to grow

into the new skin

spin a new web to tangle

everything in blue & green

if it did makes sense

would there be as much

to think and write about…

don't reach the floor

sipping coffee and blowing smoke

rather be 
somehow impossible

to force what once was

so much excitement

want to get out 
of this book this box

that keeps me trapped

sipping coffee and relaxing with jah

appreciation 
growing up within everyday

three years in the confines 
of one book of thoughts 
says that writer is distracted

real life has got him by the balls

sipping coffee trying to loosen the grip

the phone is silent 
because no one wants

to talk yet he has so much to say

and somehow his writing has gotten messier

in three years’ time probably has plenty of gray

sipping away and refill the cup

and bowl until feet 
don’t reach the floor…

appreciate the breath for being there

room to breathe in and appreciate the breath

for being there when breath was needed

the tide needs to finally break

the tension the strain

release in the brain

room to breathe only twenty feet away

three one won the day

celebrating the life

remembering the smile

only seen in pictures with these eyes

jah reflection

eternally growing up inside everyday

more room to breathe in

water will help keep it all clean to soothe

the rough spots of everyday

life weighing heavier at times

cruising without a thought

for the next moment every moment

gathered one at a time

is necessary some will be recorded

every thought not measured against

the next moving right through into eyes

the night brings darkness real science

and a sneeze heard throughout

the house laughter and happiness

welcomed the release

room to breathe…

cross-eyed and dangerous

sounds all around

each corner sharper

than the next

might come quicker

with no idea what’s ahead

behind or somehow in between

thoughts and questions

answers never knowing

what’s right or wrong turn

might lead to the right

answer up and down

as the night goes on

cross-eyed and dangerous

deep as the night is dark

moon light shines

illuminates the yard

and inspires and moves the mind

to record the thoughts for a later time

not even poetry capturing all the thoughts

can’t even make them sound any better

than they are just waiting to be read

pen in hand with a heavy head

so tired day dreaming of sleep

ahead without an alarm

for one day swirling around the yard

still in the mind

the rest of me sitting at the kitchen table…

twisted around the pen

twisted around the pen

pushing out all I can

and then some more

stand at the door

looking into the smoke

for a thought not a joke

to be laughing out loud

alone in the crowd

twisted hand grips the pen tight

moon is bright on a night like tonight…

crazed reality

been stuck in this book now

two years ago something

happened causing  less writing

more thinking but without

the pen will help cut all

the thought out of the mind

out of this mind and onto

this page out of his mind

sitting with silent rage

and confusion been swirling over head

like clouds with the occasional rain

throughout the day

thinking more and more about

the right place to be effective

bringing about positive change

for all involved will be affected

by any and all change

needs to be more than coins in a pocket

some will stand watching with hands in them

work to fill books with thoughts

but maybe no one will read them

that doesn’t mean the thoughts will ever stop

or make sense for that matter of fact

presented as if it were the future

and it probably will be if things don’t somehow

adjust as we all grow together or separate

depending on all the choices

made thought out of a day off and a stuffy nose

the rain has kept thought inside

all day planning some small escape

from the crazed reality of everyday life…

seen from all around

want to understand

how do eye fit

of confusion caught

worn down and tired

want to understand

how eye am seen

from all around

and how to escape

some maze so many

ways to find a way

out of the confusion

and back into

beauty’s light

want to understand

why intensity secures

a spot at the opposite end

of the location desired

to leave all worry behind

and move forward

with strength and

confidence…

worn out(for the record)

ten days of silence

followed by scratching
the surface of an idea
that might continue
to return if allowed
the proper time
 
for the record
given little reward
by those work for daily
by night fall
back out on the porch
moving the pen again
it’s been slow
last few years
getting used
to being worn out…

the outsider(for the record)

I don’t do well with disrespect

especially when it continuously
goes unpunished
and mostly unnoticed to all around
 
for the record
always seen as the outsider
never knowing what is best
for anyone including
myself apparently
 
for the record
sometimes I just sit
hours at a time
even in the heat of July
most of the day alone
used to the sound
the brain thinking
keep rattling on…

as the night is dark(for the record)

fireworks in every direction

celebrating 234 years
independence
as a country fire blazing bright
only light above the pen
and page thought by now
it might make sense
 
for the record
most likely never will
put on a different hat
meaning is still the same
irie as the night is dark
under clear star filled skies...

of this life(for the record)

for the record

seems everyday
of this life
gets harder to handle
trying to figure out
how to let go
with both hands…

lonely(for the record)

the fire was started

with a page from this book

under clear night sky

fire now roars

for the record

I could and do

stare into the flames for hours

thinking and hoping for a better day

somehow reaping what I was sowing

lonely when I shouldn’t be

been taking a lot of pictures

documenting moments

in this here life

for some reason or for the sake

of doing it ideas changing

as the fire burns the wood

to nothing

for the record

the silence too

golden alone under

cloudless air

above only thoughts

keep the vigil out

behind the house…

burning again (for the record)

burning again

first day of summer

longest day of the year

been awake most of it

the breeze feels cool

that fire burns

hot on top of sheets

layered will be under them

resting soon

4 the record

best part of the day

where I have always belonged

resting soundly

loving madly

waking lucky each morning

all the sounds of tonight

surround friend and companion passed

somehow always here

by my right arm

or beneath my feet

when I burn

longest day of the year

still under sensei cloud

still under clear night sky

4 the record...

air is exhaust fumes

this is my track off of the DRC Halloween Whammy 2

 AIR IS EXHAUST FUMES by nicefro 

as it burns

 AS IT BURNS by nicefro 

beginning from the end

 BEGINNING FROM THE END by nicefro

fire blog #5

get a better look

fire burns slow

all the rain makes

it sizzle as if something

comes to a boil

crossed eyes

are heavy ones

some pollen

some herb related

fire burns slow

as the days

continue to extend

wind blows

fire becomes active

heating up

the entire area

wooden spokes

around the wheel of flames

takes on another form

spreading out

to get a better look

at all that sits behind

to enjoy the warm

stones only minutes

hours later

hot too touch face

before eyes close

each night

beginning of so many

more with a fire

burning slow and even the morning

rain couldn’t soak the wood

enough although

the fire burns slow…

fire blog #4

fire blog #3

this is an old dog house that was just taking up space so...

...it is no more

fire blog #2

fire blog

my cat is really brave

new fire place

this took me 5 hours to build...  I moved my old fire place and constructed a new one.  I am going to document my fires so stay tuned to the fire blog.

it will burn

never looked into eyes

if you did you’d see no disguise

rise from the ashes of everything done

rise like the ocean rise like the sun

so many choices and thoughts won’t quit

so much light no matter how you measure it

contemplating each move like in a chess game

got to think three moves ahead you know the name

behind a dark screen sitting with wonder

stare into the light all night you might ponder

the thoughts that won’t let you be

one with yourself high over the tree

never looked into eyes

flat on your back you look at the skies

clear for now until clouds come

closed eyes tight you still hear the hum

from far away and anticipate a return

fire so hot without touch it will burn

walk with these thoughts there and back

walk with new thoughts as they come to attack

the regularity of reality makes you crazy to think

in your own thoughts you stand then you sink…

to closed eyes it's a train

what’s that date really mean

how could anyone really know

for sure and now too much

focus if reality distracted

until naturally disaster strikes

with power that cannot be stopped

and seen by cameras worldwide

inside drops helplessness seen worldwide

questions about how much everyone

will be radiated it’s in the good book

or written on some wall somewhere

and man may in fact destroy himself

what does any of it really mean

to closed eyes it’s a train thundering by

but it’s only the wind on one of those days

before spring moves in for a stay

focused on thoughts distracted

and fighting the reality presented

until that last day silently

as the flower turns to the sun

just like it heard every word

and believed every prediction

presented reality isn’t as it presented

we are all in the dark

honestly though can we imagine

being helpless in the dark…

break through like sun again

whatever time it really is

hidden by the clouds

then burned by the sun

warming us again

a year ago season began the same

one day of sun and wind

taking cold away

hard to keep up

still putting it down

in pen first always

outside waiting

eventually finding

that balance in between

now and what time it really is

hidden behind the method

to this madness trying to find

the right way to break through

like sun again…

what is on the mind

clinging to the last threads
of life almost ninety years
and every breath seems to be
approaching the last
nothing we can do
watching as death comes slow
wanting to be with her
when she goes
my dad’s mom
so painful to see
wondering what the mind does
at that point
in the hallway between
life and death…

figure of thought

face the wall under low light

and the shadow cast on the page

of my own hand moving one side

to the other as if it operates

on it’s own without direction

thoughts fill the mind

no talent here just words

to describe thoughts

because I can’t paint pictures

don’t ever ask what I am thinking

read it here and know

it’s always been you I think of

when you fill my heart

as it pounds faster when you

hold me close and close isn’t

close enough for me

insatiable in that way

a fatal flaw never want

to be the pillow that keeps

the breath away just

a figure of thought

face the wall and understand

it’s always going to be

where I want to be…

sixth on the right

disaster strikes

and snow will

be dumped down

on top or so they say

don’t blink

be happy and ignore

the ugly facts

and lack of friends

don’t need them never did

just wanted to feel loved

and I do so I will stop

complaining

and wait for disaster to strike

once or twice

like a man without a country

done in a day

right before or during disaster

should be more secure

know the self and what I am doing

pen in hand the eleventh finger

sixth on the right

like a plastic bag over the face

told I am my own disaster and I found

all I want right here got worries still

it makes me human

or so I thought just don’t like

disastrous surprises that will do more

damage than the impending snow to come

sudden chill up one arm

and down the other

inside at last with pen and no smoke

listening to the sounds all around

used to be music I chose

now I listen as a teenager talks

to his video game has no idea

the disaster that may loom ahead

not so far off the point always

that there is no point to anything

and no matter how good

is done the worst I have been

is what is remembered

pen still in hand it won’t fall

even when I do…

all day it lasted

new thought

same lined page below

recording the thoughts

that pop into the head

trying to remember

what it felt like to grow up

just so I can identify

with the younger one

around the house

there were days when nothing

could erase the darkness

all day it lasted

one day realized

it can be no more

new thought of confidence

in decision to face it myself

determination not to let

it disturb another day in my life

remembering suddenly those years

it took to change and realize change

really never ends until

the bitter end of times

whenever it arrives to stop time

and it really doesn’t make much sense

all for what there has got to be a purpose

in this here new thought…

the broom

the broom is on the floor

but it won’t pick anything up

unless someone picks it up

the coffee is always hot

but drinkable just the same

sometime it gets lonely

at the kitchen table

no one needs me

or joins me for dinner

will leave my coat on

just in case I have to leave

or go hang with the cat

not because I have fleas

just because the smell in the air

is new shoe smell

that’s the only way to describe it

the broom is still on the floor

because everyone walks

right over it…

apparently enough

feel like twisting the mind

it’s the only way to get thought out

right around four o’clock

and nearly dark as these eyes

been open all day to everything

around and no one has been around

just a lot of rain getting lost

in the drips in the bowl until full

then overflowing doesn’t matter

everything is wet two days now

and the chill doesn’t help

out around the house

random strange thoughts

had one when the television

turned on seemingly by itself

not at all that odd

except no remote control involved

in a thought more about it

after it gets dark pen will still move

quick-like drinking too much

and not eating enough

always hungry without the smoke

everything is different

spot to put thought down

like words just for the sake

of taking thought out of the mind

twisted in the wind

and the storm never really got

too strong apparently enough…

cat trips me up

the cat trips me up as I

walk around the room looking for my place

within the head I carry

while I walk wherever I might

walk for days at a time when others

might sit or run the other way

when I think about it long enough

do I really have anything to say

and who is really listening

to the voice everyone else hears

not like the voice heard in the head

born into this world without choice

decision already made myself fall asleep

with pen in hand book open

for thought coffee is still hot

been there all day…