thought he'd arrive for his own funeral but as usual he waited and waited and waited and as expected he was a no show for his photographer and final macabre photo op. always late, never on time... this man stays in his private room writing what ails him not in such a big hurry to… Continue reading well, well, it’s Mr. No show again
life is over sooner than you think so it's better you say what you really mean and really mean it because time is running short.
he and his shadow sit side by side to a back-lit mirror one can faintly see through where he stepped on brown ground the old man crosses his little bridge to the cow trail costing not one thin dime he mistakenly turned the light off but the feet will guide he believes it is not… Continue reading side by side
ridin' down the road on my marmalade hog turning round the bend with my red neck friends happy go lucky good ole boys from Kentucky ridin' with the wind like white locusts in a corn field praise the lord, amen.
who knows the 'meaning of life' more than the living poet? answer: the long dead poet... why? I am guessing they gained special knowledge on 'the other side' that life was only a play whereby the earthly actor's script was written by his own free will.
what's better... a bird in the hand or a bird in the bush? answer: the bird in the bush. why? he might be holding 'your' winning lotto ticket in his beak.
this painted portrait few words in color never comes close in portrait of me and you we write our song together reading then comprehending the border fence traps our own isolation among the millions who keep walking in colored interpretation.
clothes lines and trash burners those were the days I long to return to if life could only be rewound I would go willingly back to relive it all and do things right the next time around.
he's the banana in the monkey's fruit basket his mind's crazy but don't ask it when you feel lazy there's an unknown wire connected to that space ship hovering above his head straight to planet Zoit run by emperor Fred hearing those voices more and more knocking on his broken wooden head planting evil seeds… Continue reading banana in the monkey’s fruit basket
do not fret over wondering who and what you are for you are your own driver as your wind swept hair reminds you that you are not your car it drives you crazy being so lazy looking up at those dancing stars riding the waves of pot hole bumps on the road massage your spine… Continue reading convertible driver