Snow

 Like the ghost of a memory that still comes around at night to whispers it's secrets in my dreams.
My slumber passes on like the fall of its white silence as the moments gather around me like the lingering shadows of some thing I would no longer need to know but would have sooner forgotten in favor of  just a feel more minutes sleep.
Morning arrives not with some promising dawn but only a white lightness that makes the sky indistinguishable from the ground that is almost as white as it encroaches around my consciousness.  
I go for a walk into the numbing nothingness that is a metaphor for all that is cold and oblique.
I let the chill soak into my bones and wonder again why are there times like this when the weather drives away all my passions like desperate puffs of frozen oxygen mid stride in the road that has become my life. 
Can there be more than this time that I gasp out a few lines searching for some reasoning
in the enormity of my regrets
standing in here in the snow.

Words and Music by..

Wishing the what I write flow out in a musical stream

words floating on the waters of this my lyrical dream

as I sit here late in the night pondering over the plans

I have made in spite of my doubts which have come

round to the fruition as if I were the weaver before the 

loom finding the strings to pluck and begin this part

of the poet's tune.

Darkness might come and the world might come to

an end but as long as I find the voice inside of my

shiny black pen, I can tell you what I feel at this 

moment, I can turn the wheel of time, I have one 

more yarn that I can spin.

It's like dreams of running over the stony ground

like singing out my onomonopia with each foot

fall, thunder and sound.

It's like words and music by some artist whose

name I can no longer recall playing in my

memories like the motions of graffiti painted 

on the wall.

Now I exist in the second, time no longer needs 

to be in compliance as I reach up and out to the stars

and shout with exuberance:

At last, I understand the science of all that my brothers

tried to tell me, that my sisters died for so I could know 

what it was to stand in the sun and know that I am free.

It's like the dreams I have shared of flying out into the sky

it's like finding one more paradox upon which to claim

the metaphor on which I have declared

that the words and music 

that I have come by were recorded 

in all honesty.

I just wanted to share this song

it just moved me this week.

Because I love Sushi.

Yes, it is well known by those who know and pay attention to me that I love Sushi. Also , I love one Sushi restaurant above all others.

So I made up this Haiku.

Tangerine's a dream,
Art like blossoms on a plate,
the sushi is great.

Tangerine Japanese Cuisine Sushi & Bar

• 5328 millertown pike
• Knoxville, Tennessee 37924

Free falling

Sometimes I just want to bid this world goodbye-

going to jump out into the abyss,

going to reach out and kiss the sky.

Sometimes I just find I cannot face what life brings

looking down at the lands below me 

going to spread my arms like a bird's wings,

Sometimes I remember how the wind felt against my face-

going to try to remember that somewhere out there

I can still find my place.

Sometimes I just want to free fall into the wide open blue

going to reach out into the ether 

going to find the clouds, find the love I once had for you.

I want to remind myself what it was like to learn how to fly

going to walk with the gods in the heavens

going to believe in one more attempt, I am willing to try.

Sometimes I just want to forget the earth below me

knowing that I will eventually have to return

but now for this one moment I have, I am free. 

Rain...

Rain...

It's something like the feeling you first have when waking from sleep

and there is no sunrise to greet you.

You climb out of bed and stumble mumble your way to the window to stare

out into the grey morning as the skies tremble with emotions

that you have tried to escape from by fleeing to the world of sleepless dreams.

Was it not just yesterday...

that all this meant something more than the sorrow which pervades your waking

hours with minutes of pervasive reminders that the thing that you have lost 

still haunts you in the reflection of your own pain that mirrors the look on your face 

in the reflection in the window as the ghosts of what remains 

stays frozen like the chills on your skin 

like echoes of regret and promise from within

like the the fire that bursts along with the tears in your brain

like the mystery that has this effect that comes down

with the rain....