Misspent Soldier (day 2711)

They were called away
To a promised future
No clear sight far ahead
Vague plans, subtle promises,
Fame in modern times unment.
They mounted and faithfully
Road into the scene
No one there to greet them
No romantic sending off.
When skies turned blood red,
When comrades lay side by side
When torture was their enemy
No cotton handkerchief blew drying
For everyone was buckled down
Amidst chaos of the finest hour
A mission of uncertainty
And further, urgency
Flew towards in shrapnel
Devastating times of war.
At home awaited news at every hour
Mother, father, sister too
Hot soup for dinner every night
Hot tea to wake up to.

Todo (day 2519)

Counting out dollars of an unmarked womans purse
She told me I had nice hair, I said she was rather curt
That is when she told me about her dear old fathers luck
That had run its course as a scholar written from a pen of steel
I was young, she was pretty, we had fun and then we both remained
Dear friends just all the same.
When the water boiled I poured the tea for three
She hadn’t come alone but we seemed to be private
I wrinkled up my nose to an unexpected story
That had me rather wondering when I would ever read his book
So we took just a minute to choose what herbs would do
And we sipped, then we stirred, and sighed until we finished
All the deeds left to do in a scholarly mans todo.

Rain – part IV (day 2264)

(part III)

I told the hungry stranger
That he could spend the night
In the hay barn, where I pointed
He said he’d hoped as much
As I gave him the eggs
And a warm cup of tea.
He asked if I had a cigarette
But I hadn’t one to my name
“Thought I’d try,” he said
“You don’t look like much of a smoker.”
Living as a bachelor
I kept a pretty clean house
The dog kept me in order
If ever I let things slip too much
My father had made sure that I understood
What it meant to have gravitas
As a man, the responsibility
Of keeping my ethics strong
And my morals rich,
A keen sense of duty to myself
My community, and to do the right thing.

part V

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXXIX (day 2043)


For three days we hunted
And for three days we found nothing
That would serve as any kind of sustenance
We of course found plenty of squirrels
And small birds to feed us
But deer, elk, buffalo, moose…

I woke up on the morning of the fourth day
Feeling like I had been charged with bolt of lightening
Awake from a dream that had left me silent all morning
As we packed up and prepared to break camp
Moon Cow came over and looked at my arrows
And asked if I was alright
I said yes, I’ve never felt better
And he asked about my dream
Moon Cow always had a sense about these kind of things
I think that’s part of the medicine man in him.

“When I was young
My mother used to come into my room
In the early hours of the day
And tell me that my father had just left again
She would cry to me
And I was..
Hardly able to understand what that meant
But her crying
Would alert me, and wake me up
And I would feel like I had to protect her
I was responsible for her
An assumed set of duties
That charged me with purpose
You should have seen me
Walking down the street
With two cents in my pocket
Going to buy the daily bread and a paper for mom
I’d say hi to all the folks I knew
And they’d smile back at me
Knowing and seeing the determination in my eyes
The responsibility I had in my shoes
They knew my father
Some would even stuff a nickle
Into my well worn pockets
I’d smile and say: ‘thank you m’am’
And charge off on my way
When I’d return home
Mother would be waiting with a broom
For the paper to devour
With the hopes she would find something better
For herself and me, I guess
In my dream I remembered my determination
For a better tomorrow
The perseverance that was required of me
I feel it now
And it makes me think about the future.


Foreign Tongue on the Rise (day 1949)

My horse is a stallion
That I ride into fields afar
Sasanian teas on my tongue,
And a giant sun in the sky
Leans in to tell me secrets
Of land my mind runs to
Where family awaits
No word of my pursuits.
I am their father
Fierce as a tiger
Our manes running free
And my horse is a stallion
Decorated with all I am able,
A powerful warrior and me
And a foreign tongue on the rise
With a sword at my side
Thundering ten thousand hooves riding
In dust through the sky
And my mind runs wild
Like silk floating
Through this twilight, afar.

Ferry Loads (day 1515)

I was caught between a Ford F150 and an overloaded Subaru station wagon,
A family of 6 had stuffed her so tight their hands were all hanging out the windows,
Each with a cigarette loosely dangling there. 
I had packed modestly, as usual. 
My father had taught me years ago the beauty of a single pair of undies. 
My copilot was fanning herself with a rolled up magazine the terminal operator had casually offered her,
Nobody could think straight with such heat. 
The huge doberman hanging out in the back of the Ford had it’s tongue rolled out so far it seemed rather comedic to us, 
Poor dog was probably suffering back there. 
Waiting there was a bustle of excitement to and fro,
Like watching an ant hive;
Some things we just never understand,
Seemingly busyness of humans and ants for no particular reason identifiable. 
We waited thirty five minutes there and watched,
Every single one of us in that oversized parking lot,
As the ferry slowly pulled into its parking spot and unloaded a few hundred passengers,
Eagerly anticipating our own turn to single file our way into a large metal box, freshly whitewashed.

Torrents of a Storm (day 1198)

Today I dove into the earth
Straight to my father, Hades.
He spoke of worry, and other sorts
Of malady and ill-practice.
I lamented these points
In great detail, until my eyes filled up
With great regret,
The sorts that has no name.

Persephone, the great King’s wife,
Delighted me with wine,
And as we sat in the great hall
My eyes grew heavier still.
Until the calm of so much storm
Threw me into: unearthed,
I was no longer man, no longer breathed
All I ever was did mourn.

But just as soon as hell did pass,
Just as the ghost had called my name,
I woke at once, with a great start,
And Nothing welcomed me home.
So there was I, burnt inside and out,
Left to be held close by Nothing.
There were no words, but all was said,
Until calm rolled over my mind.

Lost is always a mystery,
A lance driven in by force.
But so is joy and unbound glory,
To the victor go the spoils!
‘Till at last the weeds come out
All laid out for thy viewing,
Where sparks become the ignition
To infinity forever after.

Upon my pony I did gallop,
Into up out and off to my home.
I crawled around and foraged a while
To scavenge for my dinner’s meal.
And there I saw, in haste to my father
I had missed what now spoke to me,
A field of love, in golden ripe
Which at last meant I was at home.

Little Spoon (day 1118)

I am the little spoon
That lives in the hill,
Scalloping hoodwinks
With masterful might.
An age old tradition
My father’s father told,
Forgiveness unheard to
Plant out my soul,
For I am the little spoon!
Happy lives fold.
Yet here I am
Amongst leftover pine,
A scraggly drain
In a dirty edged pond,
Mystery splashes
To my father’s better half,
Which I cannot explain anymore.
Which I ply with my little spoon.

Lords Divine (day 1081)

For goodness – not –
Shall Lords divine.
Sweet melon nectar
Explicit: intertwine.

An eagle soars
With lengthy hearth
An eagle burns
As Pharaoh’s earth.

River’s dry
– A cracking grain –
To whither: dead,
Our fathers bane.

Of golden green
‘Twixt slender pains
Yell “Willow’s mixture”
Betrayal’s feign.

Yet heard – unspoke –
Gripped the sword
– A childless yoke –
Divine hoard.

Crowd Sourcing (day 1004)

An eager atmosphere pushed the Devil to yell
He barked at the moon like he was rattling hell!
And out from the works came scuttling all
To exercise weeping; watch the blood fall

Leveraging our fathers (our mothers) with time
In a forceful toil-workers rhyme
Which consumed a brackishly concocted design
Of feathers and chicken bones and half frozen lime

We beat reason into apathetic institutions
Who spoiled magical innocence and intuitions.
We followed the Devil with dazzling premonitions
And were left alone; a severe lack of solutions

But whispers died slowly as the fog rolled away
Laughter could be heard above those who’d been slay
All in a night which reeked of delay
And the Devil returned home carrying his lay