Doorways

Think

How many doorways

We pass through

In a lifetime?

Some

We casually stroll

Through

Some

We race through

Because we’re running late

For work

Or

Some place 

We just have to be

To make this person

Or that person

Happy we attended

Their day of needing

Humans around them!

Yes

These doorways we deem

All so important!

We rush and go

To the trouble of always

Being on time  

But

There are some folks

Who would trade anything

For the troubles

We walk through each day

For theirs

Without hesitation! 

For

Their doorways lead in

And

Out

Of

Hell!

For the abused

The torn down

The unwanted  

Doorways

That take unbelievable courage

To walk out of

And

Never return!

Like the home

Of

The battered wife

Her eye swollen shut

Her lip split

Scarlett drops of blood

Running down her chin

Baby on her hip

Scared out of her mind

That he will wakeup

Before she makes it out

Makes it to her car

Turns the ignition

Lights off

Creeping down

The driveway

Then down the road

And

Away from

The nightmare marriage

She had grown

To call normal!

So

The next time

You’re rushing out the door

Stop and think

What doorways

Some folks

Have had to go through

And

Your worries 

Won’t seem so significant

Your time so pressing

Your life so awful

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave

Comic, Dreams The Cat

Serpent Of Taillights

The line of traffic

This morning

Looks like

A serpent of taillights

Flowing like a Boa

On the shoulders

Of

Candy Darling

Or

A mink

Wrapped around Vivien Leigh 

Winding and twisting

Its way toward

Yet

Another day!

Some days are better

Than others

And

Some days

By all means

Are worse!

Yesterday was a day

I caught up on sleep

As a writer

A poet

You need these days

You have to step

Into dreamland

And

If only for a moment

Not hear the sink dripping

The phone ringing

The door knocking

No TV

No one walking past your home

Talking on their phone

You see

The writer takes it all in

Whether or not

They want to

We can’t just turn that shit off

Block it out

We hear

We see

We absorb

The world around us

And

It’s exhausting

At times

But

It’s who we are!

So

Sleep becomes

Our best friend

Waiting to walk

Hand in hand

Into the darkness

Resetting our thoughts

So we can awake

And

Write once more!

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave   

The Melvins And The Van

In 1989

A friend and I

Went to see

The Melvins

Play in Gainesville FL

At

The Hardback Café

The underground was alive

And

Well

That night

Breathing in

And

Sweating out artistic energy!

A moving motion of music lovers

Mingled among

Moshers and Metalheads!  

A strong sense of community

Was in the air

Waves of sound

Washed over us

I could feel the music

Alive

Inside my chest

As the band played

It felt like

My lungs

Had filled with

Notes and tones

From the guitar

From the pounding drums

From voices singing

Into microphones

All of it

Was rattling within my ribcage

Like a canary

Trapped by a grinning housecat

Pawing its cage

Back and forth

Back and forth

Or maybe

Hunter S. Thompson’s beloved bird

Edward

Flapping around frantically

While Hunter banged

On the outside of his

Wired framed home!

Either way

The sound was shaking

My insides!

After the show

We made our way outside

Onto the brick street

In front of the bar

Leaning against

The Melvins

Tour Van

My friend and I made small talk

Small talk was made between us

Within a few minutes 

I started to notice

A Kiss Mural drawn on the side

Of

The van

Four painted faces

Of

Rock and roll royalty

I thought to myself

Whoever drew this

Understands

The art of the underground

Years latter

I read Kurt Cobain

Did the drawing

Yes

Kurt had a good grasp

On

The art of the underground

And

His art

Brought the mainstream

Rushing towards it!

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave

Tarnished In Time

The newness

The shininess

The absolute beauty

Of

That special someone

Or

That someone you encounter

Who you believe will be

Someone special

Will tarnish

As the days slip by

No matter

How much your eyes

Are pleased

With their outer shell

And

Your mind believes

All will be

The same as the day

You laid eyes on them

They will corrode!

Like a coin tossed in a

Fountain of wishes

End over end

Sinking to the bottom

In time

The breakdown will begin!

Nothing can stop this

Natural process

Of

Corrosion

On the coin or on the body

The games people

Once played

Will be

No longer possible

Once days turn to weeks

Turn to years

Turn to decades!

I’ve seen this

Since I was a child

Looking upon the rich

And

The popular

Within our population

The vain

The good-looking

All will wither 

And

Father Time will then smile

Gazing

At the work he has done!

For

He knows

His artwork is perfect

Unsigned age lines of perfection

Bring the beautiful to tears

And

The ugly to great laughter

From my book, When The Cedars Shade Your Grave