The Richest Man in Town!

This site is very cool!

Last Hurrah

Warmth afraid of change

Takes a stand against the chill

Loathes the inevitable

halloween Nightmare


Horrifying halloween Hammond night being dragged for blocks. Freezing rain turning to flurries, yet sweating in a mask through which I could not see, having trouble breathing through the pin hole of a mouth, while the band for the mask around my neck cut like piano wire. I wore a coat that covered the already warm costume that now no one could see. I had watched enough war movies on TV that my mom claims i said; “This is like being in the Army.” Only to return home to hard taffy candy that the paper stuck to, burnt pop corn balls and Apples my mother would not allow me to eat.
Welcome to my nightmare!

Summer Comes Before a Fall!

The warm breeze was teased by the cool front. Confident Summer showed off it’s continuing heat.   Summer oversleeping one brisk morning, discovered  Fall with a smirk had rearranged everything.


Worn out Welcome

You could have visited for hours not days.

Everyone’s on edge from prolonged stays.

How could you have a friend

when you’re at my house days on end.

Your things everywhere messing up my nest.

Here so much yet acting like a guest.

Everyone looking can’t believe it’s true

How could you possibly not have a clue?

You’re never invited so you shed a tear.

How could we miss you? you’re always here.




peaceful sounds

Hear that?

that’s what peace and quiet sounds like

silence is golden the breeze is real

sitting resting on the dune

seeing for days past the soft blue



It doesn’t end with a diploma

we’ve only just begun

Some get away with no study before a test.

Life is not that easy

Quiet time and eyes in God’s Word

prepares for the next test.

Then, that test prepares for the next.

You can’t cram the night before

you have to spend time with the teacher

and be in  study.


I thought I knew the way

I boasted I knew.

Now no one will come looking.



Heavy Metal

Power Chords and sweat

A skip and a stage run

slithering pick across it’s neck

shrieks and frets.

Feedback in your drums and ribs.

Now aging, rusting

rocking back and forth

on the front porch.

The Blues

You’re to young to sing the blues

not here long enough to pay your dues.

He can see so many years ahead.

So many children go unfed.

Holes in the shoes on his feet.

Singing the blues of the street.





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