You And I

you and I a delacate pair

I think I am the chalk

and you are the cheese

pure white lines across

the black board

a message is written

that is me

bacteria warmed

old mild and new

but still smelly

that’s how I feel

about you

 

Old Songs Fade (Time To Change The Sound Bobby)

The words

seem to stick

to the back of my throat

my esophagus has two hands 

squeezing it tighter then before

I want to tell you

we gone on to long

it is now the time

 to change the strings

the notes sound so sour 

two strings twisted

to complete the coil

now old and worn 

and worked to much

they are unraveling

we are unraveling

I think it is time

 

 

 

Inside your Armoire

Today I was looking

I found nothing

Yesterday I was searching

I still came up with nothing

I looked in your armoire

And I found your heart

In a padlocked cage

Being prodded and poked

By audacious people at the zoo

And then I realized

That I too looked at you

Ignoring the sign

Do Not Feed

As i handed you a bone

I’m sorry i made you sick

Giving Birth To A New Day

As I lay awake in bed

At five in the morning

I wonder why

The sleeping sands

Have passed me tonight

Was it because I needed

To see the dark sky

Turn to paler shade of blue

To greet the sun

Reply to the early-bird song

Was it to keep secrets

Of the whispering maples

To comfort

The street lights

As they fade

One by one

To encourage

The stars in dance

To hold in my arms

A brand new day

All Children Are Ghosts On Saturday

I was a ghost this morning

I rolled in with the thick misty fog

In a school yard that seemed to be forgotten 

I placed myself upon a dew laden swing

I swayed to the rhythm of my thoughts

My back to the elementary school

Where minds were to be molded

I remember when I was young 

I was care free and hungry for knowledge

Soon the children would be out playing

They would want to reclaim their swing

I packed up my thougthts 

Moved like a ghost through the fog

As I walked without a destination in mind

I came to the conclusion that it was Saturday

Thoughts On A Summer Promise

where summer meets me

under the mighty maple tree

carefully watching for the frost

 not to disturb my thoughts

i watch the brilliant sun

leave it’s evening art classes

and it had forgotten to clean the brushes

and lay out a new canvas for the stars

instead yellow paint was left

spilled across the horizon

sponge like clouds mop up the residue

for the moon to take it’s turn

as I gaze through the skelton

laden with vibrant green leaves

that shelters my many thoughts

from the coolness of the night wind