“Creme de la creme”
said The Trader Man Tim
who doubles a dollar
on a wink and a whim.

“Oh, good for nothing!”
cries the unfortunate soul
who fell through the trap
into Trader Tim’s hole.

Outside my window,
I hear a lonely dog wail
his tired nightly woes
—
His echoed alarms
interrupt an otherwise
quiet summer night

He cradled pieces
of poetry that
no longer
made much sense

He'd add a word,
here and there
or change some
misused tense

But from metaphors
forgotten to a flow
that slowed to still

the penman died
a lonely death
from all that
moved his quill

Beautiful words
from a dying man -
had he lived and
loved at all

but who will know or
care enough to brace
the penman's fall?

Day after day, I rivel.
Who knows for how long?
Reduced to mere survival
screaming it’s selfish undertone.
Aspiration is long forgotten
If I live, to what avail?
Despair darkens my demeanor
Time and time again, I fail.
Compassion is now contended;
Making less sense than it did before
And those who are offended
break the hinges off my door.
Disappointment - my adornment
as if I’m capable of more..
If only they knew the torment
that is relentless at my core.  
Wisdom only mocks me.
She dances around my doom
singing, “Here lies a foolish boy
who followed freedom to his tomb.”
Now I’m cast to raging seas;
A boat beaten by an angry wave;
unanswered cries like pleas
from crows that cry above my grave.

Tell me, Lord.. can these dry bones live?

Ah, Lord, You know.
But I am left to wonder why
every attempt to be the hero
turns to ashes when I die.
All this foolishness will follow
as I lay down and return to dust
and time is sure to swallow
all these fallacies I trust.

I danced in a ten
percent chance of rain;
not just because it
beat the odds,
but because
it never even
considered them.
It reminded me that
systems and
statistics are
man-made and fallible -
boasting with a
sure tone,
yet still confined
to near fraudulence..

You can tell me
it’s unlikely to rain,  
but it won't
stop it from pouring.
You can tell me
there's no God,
but it won't stop
Him from healing
these festered wounds.
And you can tell me
I'll never walk,
but it won't keep
me from dancing..

Who would know the struggle?
The apocalyptic rubble..
So sick I'm seeing double
and I haven't had a drink.

Jarred by nightly terror
Scarred by trial and error
Acting on impulse because
I'm too afraid to think.

A sheet of ice from the winter freeze,
Candle-lit windows, haunting trees,
Branches dancing in the subtle breeze.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

A distant light from the radio tower
Blinks on time in the late-night hour.
A star-scattered sky so still and sweet.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Redlights ahead, road ending abrupt
Kicking rocks to keep from looking up.
Avoiding cracks in the cold concrete
as a quiet earth rolls beneath my feet

A man staggers in the streetlight glow.
He smiles because he knows that I know.
I nod and gaze down the familiar street
as a quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Down by the oak trees and old ball park,
The hillside hidden by the dense dark,
I hear the rushing sound of Town Hill Creek.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.