Its afternoon and I took a day off from my shop. Probably spend the afternoon watching football.

Big Red

very humid

Males-Sales

The Modern Jazz Quartet, (MJQ).

Root Beer

Jason Matthews

Mantovani

spinning axis

Humid here is marsh but I would have it no other way.

These living bodies that we wear that in a new dress we appear destined for the skipper in the sky pale the shade in our veins Entombed with a white bouquet so fast we wither in our grave catching the early worms in our darken maze As we sleep in our coffin deep free from the flesh at last no part remains a selfsame part but the pain is gone Let him who loves you think instead you...

Added 13 Nov 2019 | Category Poetry | Votes 0 | Avg Score 0 | Views 30

If only, my dream wasn't loneliness, and the stars were chandeliers, if only, visions of you in my teacup of dreams, if only, for a moment, please.   But dark is a lonely demon, if only, left to fester without psalms, for the truth is in the Good Book, if only, you would come upstairs. If only, in my memory you not age, and my mind doesn't grow cold, if only,   up with the dawn of you in...

Added 11 Nov 2019 | Category Poetry | Votes 1 | Avg Score 5 | Views 50 | 1 Comment

In all my dreams of sleeping You will be there next to me In our Wee Willie Winkie Of Brigadoon by the sea   A shadow's twilight Beneath the sovereign oaks In the hallowed woods Of a lovely meadow green In your arms of open alms Of Brigadoon by the sea  ...

Added 06 Nov 2019 | Category Poetry | Votes 0 | Avg Score 0 | Views 52

Soft and sweet they are, your lips of crimson for a kissable at midnight in the land of holly by the sea of blue tides, the color of your eyes     as your breath takes me away beneath the stars In flew the coo-coo of our happiness   From a jar of golden moonbeams a distant far   on clouds of dreams of woodwind harps   and love letters in the sand dated 1979 For a kissable at midnight in...

Added 03 Nov 2019 | Category Poetry | Votes 0 | Avg Score 0 | Views 58

Sleepless nights of sins, angels fanning winds, as I lay awake with shadows in dreams, perhaps in the bowels of hell, I dwell, whispering, dark rivers of my heart. In narrows of my mind running through veins, of a chatoyant moon lusting for green eyes, without shame into the despair of vassals, Tragedy her name, deep as the oceans. With passions risings in the ink of my well, Tragedy rocks...

Added 31 Oct 2019 | Category Poetry | Votes 0 | Avg Score 0 | Views 49

The night was chilled against your pale skin of midnight calling feeling your breath a deeper shade of lust in my veins as my fingers slipped between your folds The moon was yellow like an old cur dog as rime ice hung on the pumpkins of vines all in a row like ducks with a widow's veil of winter's frost   Feeling your breath like tentacles caressing conjuring promises of promiscuity atop...

Added 28 Oct 2019 | Category Poetry | Votes 1 | Avg Score 5 | Views 78 | 2 Comments

She was my best friend. As dear to me as a shadow. A shadow named Granny who visited me on occasions, when I was sad and lonely. She was small in stature but big in heart. But often she cried when I was down with the blues. Yet! She was no one's fool. She knew the words she spoke sounded as if she were country folk. But she was humble as pumpkin pie out of season. Raising a family on...

Added 26 Oct 2019 | Category Musings | Votes 0 | Avg Score 0 | Views 68

I wasn't average. I was told that I had the intelligence of an eraser. Dale Earnhardt was my hero.  I was born with a deformity that caused my knuckles to drag the ground and I craved bananas. Later on, in life, I had a bit-part in a Tarzan movie that was filmed in Terre Haute, Indiana. Granny wasn't too keen on crossing the Mason and Dixie line to do it.  I won a can of Alpo dog food for...

Added 24 Oct 2019 | Category Musings | Votes 0 | Avg Score 0 | Views 70

Dear Grandson: While I am here in detox (prison) help your grandpa with the still and don't let him blow things up. If you can, scraped up enough money to get his dentures out of hock. If there is any leftover change, get him a gift card for a new tattoo. Perhaps " the dancing monkeys" like I have on my buttocks.   Just remember that I love you, even though you were dropped from an anvil on...

Added 22 Oct 2019 | Category Musings | Votes 1 | Avg Score 5 | Views 134 | 2 Comments

Remembering the days, fleur-de-lis, when the winds of October whistled, and leaves turned to brown before touching the ground. Turning to mulch to keep you warm, as you sleep in a garden of stones, with winter peas, as green as your eyes, but the lily is still there. The one with petals that made you smile, as we made love beneath the blue skies, and the Milky Way is now your...

Added 21 Oct 2019 | Category Poetry | Votes 2 | Avg Score 5 | Views 86 | 4 Comments