water flows over rocks
bubbles from stone to stone
there is no stopping it as it flows slowly past me like the winds
yes the winds whisper
whisper softly
for me and the grasses sway for me
they are calling to you
this war
this war
this war
can you hear them calling
these grasses they grow
they grow silently swaying over our heros
this war
this war
this war
this poem
this poem
this poem
brushes of color
can you see it?
can you hear the grasses swaying for you
can you?
***
It doesn’t matter
nothing matters I said as we left and
I was probably right
for once
well what did I get for it?
words left in a blog
that’s what I got
words in a damn blog.
Do you ever feel like you are
yesterdays blog?
nothing matters he said again as if waiting for
the punch line
Fuck Punch Fuck Judy
Fuck the punch line
nothing matters
least of all this
poem in the damn
night
this meandering life sputters a bit
and occasionally reveals the truth
you guessed it
***
poem about being left alone
poem of love
poem of loneliness
a poem in the night
to hold back the beast
just a little bit
a little silence in words
Oh paint me a picture of the wind in the trees
Oh sing me a song with clapping of hands
Oh carry me home with a chorus of
love
and remember the lost one in the night
writing poems
alone
***
FOR WILLIE
who am I to say musician
to say poet
who am I
to say artist
every human needs to say
these
these are the only hands
these are the supreme hands
I am the only man who ever lived
a mammal in a lair
snarling when cornered
like Dylan’s wolverine
gasping for the last breath
for the last word ever uttered by
mankind itself
***