– Shoot –


Standing under a roof – suffocating me,
a box of words driving me out of my sanity,
I’m driven by the pulse of this suffocation.
It’s a war within,
under this roof as I walk forward in this shell
of bones and nerves.
It’s been a war I could never get a hold of,
a reason I’m never aware that I’m searching for,
yet I keep fighting battles that push and pull me off.
So shoot me straight through my heart,
a little bit with kindness,
a little bit of love in your words.
Lend me your strength,
lend me your will,
I stare straight at the mirror
asking myself at the reflection,
to shoot me with hope – to free me from this war.

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Source of Inspiration

king's feast

Too many flavors
dull the palette;
one golden orange
has more to offer
than a king’s feast.

Do not accumulate
that which fades away.
Hold on to what is
deep within
not what lies
on the surface
for the secret of life
is not of the material world
but rather the nugget
of love from the Creator
sheltered within the heart
waiting for us to call it forth
tospread it others who
are still in darkness
in need of the light of love.

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So Weary

Source of Inspiration


Weary am I
seeing all too clearly
the struggles of mankind
repeating our roles endlessly
victim, bully, frightened rabbit
agressor, lost soul

I’ve been them all
you have been, too
days, years, life times
one step forward
two back again
progress hard to find

Year of the dog
fortune cookies
lucky rabbit’s foot
win the lottery
still life creeps along
time measured in eons
slower than snails in glue

W ill we evolve before we self-destruct?
E ach must do his part
A ll around me destruction and greed
R ising up from the ashes we will come
Y es, a new beginning is at hand

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From Where?

Come Enjoy This!!

Source of Inspiration

woman writing in journal

Ideas tumbling forth
like ripples over rocks
a rushing stream
words, phrases, sentences
profound ideas, silly ones, too
come faster and faster
pen flies across the page
to give substance before
they slip away

Where do these words
come from each morning?
Who guides this hand
who places these poems
in this empty head
still loggy with sleep
so early in the morn?

Am I a captured slave
or willing creature
for surely these
words guide me each day
before I share them with you
binding us forever
with the wisdom
of love and compassion
humor and tears
a poem, a prayer, a promise

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Forget me not…


Forget me not…

I dreamed of you, I dreamed of us.
I picked-up the phone.
I was dreaming of your face, your voice, sweet like the German Summer wine.
I dreamed of your long legs and I dreamed of your lips upon my lips.

I don’t dial the phone. I whispered to the darkness.
Dear Ambrosia.
Why did you allow me to dance the dangerous tango with you?
Why my dear Ambrosia did you promise me love and you awoke my need to love and dance again?

I remember you whispered to me on the dance floor.
Be careful what you wish for. Great wishes make us wish for a miracle.
Dear Poet, no miracles in this life.
Just us wishy-washy people who daydream love is sweet and forever.
We are more Tomfoolery than honest when the song is good and the skin demand attention.

I remember you, I remember…

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Swirl me in your mind…


Swirl me in your mind….

I remember tracing your body with my fingers, I remember you whispering to me. Johnnie, Johnnie. Are we just whispering in the wind, just secret kisses shared in the midnight hours? You loved the two-hour massage and the song of Leonard Cohen. You were my Winter California storm, and I was the quiet lake. I kissed your knees and I told you.

We are just furious souls seeking something beautiful in our messy world. You loved San Francisco. We would drive highway one from Monterey to the city that never fall asleep. We stopped at every ocean exit and we danced. You would ask me. Please Johnnie, Johnnie. Swirl me one more time. Don’t stop spinning me. Someday we will need these days. In San Francisco, after the taverns closed. We danced at the pier for the Pacific, danced for the stars and the moon. I…

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