Howl at the Moon

The Moon sags low in the sky tonight,
Orange against a black sky.
Threatening storm clouds choke,
But the moon peaks through
    as if to remind me
That is still knows the way back home.

Off in the distance a cold coyote cried.
I think a part of me died.
I stared at the moon and made a wish
That i could howl late into the night, too.

I do not know which way to go,
Into the woods or the more dense forest.
Boxes of memories stacked up high,
But the moon peaks through
    as if to remind me
That it still knows the way back home.

I lay down in the cool grass,
And let the breeze wash over me.
The only time I feel truly free
Is when the moon is watching over me.

Fog lingers and mosquitos bite.
All I want to do is howl at the moon.

Hobo Moonless Night

Hobo moonless night,
I have lost my sight.

Dead in the head,
Want freedom instead.
At night I dread
I will not rise from my bed,
But lie atop my sheets
    soaked a deep blood red.
"You're a loser," she said.
My ego I have fed.
My own self-worth has fled
While self-pity has led.

Drowned Sorrows

I drowned my sorrows, insecurities, fears, and self-doubts in the polluted Puget Sound and watch as the tide washes them out to sea. From the murky depths emerges a new self, slithering, but eager to evolve.

The Zombie Association of America

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 Call 1-800-ZOMBIEUSA today!!!

The Traveler

The towns people all told him he should stay home and work.
 Go to school, get a job, retire, and get old.
 This he tried until he nearly went berserk.
 Dreams of walking cross-country began to take hold. 
 His parents told him he should settle down.
 Meet a girl and get married in this little town.


 He awoke in the morning and decided he would not go to work today.
 He strapped on his boots and started walking toward the rising sun.
 He suddenly wondered what his parents would say.
 Probably, “you’re wastin’ your life, son.”
But he walked anyway, 
 And found it to be quite fun.


 The traveler walked until his feet ached with blisters.
 He suddenly found he was in a town full of drifters,
 Drunkards, and losers, but most of them peaceful hipsters.
 He found himself thinking of his family and friends
 And realized he missed them, mostly his sisters.
 As he searched for a place to rest and sleep for the night
 He began to wonder if traveling alone was not quite right.


 He decided to hitchhike all the way back home,
 And leveled his thumb against the steady wind.
 A stranger pulled up and asked, his voice very monotone,
“Do you need a ride sir, won’t you get in?”
Unaware the stranger had just escaped prison.
“Can you take me back to Oklahoma?”
Asked the traveler suddenly eager to be home. 
 Across the face of the stranger grew a sinister grin
 As he revealed a knife, destined for the travelers chest it went in.

Dream Girl

She walks with me in my dreams,
 and loves me true, so it seems,
 but upon awake she is not there,
 she is with someone else without a care.


 I have loved her for many years,
 and cried far too many tears.
 The time has come that I told
 of the feelings for her that I hold.


 Always running in a different direction.
 Never very good at showing affection.
 This time I’ll do it right.
 I’ll tell her under the starry moonlight.


 Stay with me girl, just for a while.
 You know you always make me smile.
 Walk with me along the sand,
 and don’t let go of my hand.


 This love for you is very real.
 Please tell me how you feel.
 If you just want a friend
 I’ll stick with you until the end.

House Upon the Hill

I sit upon this hill overlooking the city below
 Watching the people hurrying about like ants,
 And wondering if you are down there somewhere looking back up at me
 My lawn is frightfully long and the weeds have taken over the yard
 My windows are all broken out and mold covers my walls,
 But life was not always this hard
 I was not always this lonely
 I once provided comfort and protection for a very beautiful family
 Who shared their hopes and dreams with me
 Who cared for me and kept me well groomed,
 And in return, I kept them safe
 We were such a happy family indeed
 I loved them and I believe they loved me too
 I remember the cozy nights by my fireplace
 The children’s excited footsteps still echo through my hallways
 How they grew so fast
 I suppose that is why you had to leave
 It is simply your nature to grow,
 And I would hate to be the one to hold you from your dreams,
 But I wish I could have grown with you
 I wish I could be with you now
 Wherever you are
 It is very lonely on top of this hill
 Perhaps soon another family will move in,
 And share their dreams with me and love me
 The way you once did.

Old Man at the Park

The old man at the park
 sits on a park bench waiting
 for kind strangers to share his
 fascinating tales of adventure and
 woe. He is not bitter, grumpy, crotchety, 
 or cruel. Quite the contrary in fact. He is a 
 kind hearted old son of a gun who believes in the
 goodwill of the human race. If you ever meet him you
 will see what I mean. You will see the passion explode from
 within him as he begins one of his favorite stories from his past.
 You will see a fire ignite in his eyes and he will flail his arms about
 with excitement as he describes his friends like they were the characters
 in some divine story. This old man has more energy and a genuine lust for 
 life than anyone I have ever met. Let us not judge him or cast him aside because
 he can teach us something we have all overlooked. He can teach us to be more loving 
 and accepting of our fellow human. So if you ever see an old man at the park sitting by 
 himself don’t pass him by, stop and say hello, and if you see that same passion explode in
 his eyes listen to what he has to say. I think you will be glad you did. Slow down and have a chat.

My Replacement Poem

Based on Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost


 Whose lands these are I doubt I recognize.
 Her family lives in the skies;
 She will not understand me beginning to nod
 As I observe her lands replenish with flies.


 Your huge shark should consider it odd
 To begin without a mackerel or cod
 Between the lands and rushing water
 The brightest morning seen by God.


 He gives his dorsal fin a quiver
 To inquire if there has been some blunder.
 The only other sight’s the explosion
 Of angry war and a disrespect to our mother.


 These lands lay in ruin, shambles, and devastation,
 But I have lies to spread damnation,
 For I am not salvation,
 For I am not salvation.

Fear of the Poem

Writing these poems is rather difficult you see. 
 Like climbing a mountain or wrestling a shark.
 Searching in the dark for the right words to say
 just what you are thinking.
 Searching for the words to say exactly how you feel
 without losing any rhythm or zeal.


 What do you do when you cannot think of a rhyme?
 What happens when you have not got the time?
 Do you sit down and pout? 
 Do you ask a boy scout?
 I prefer to take the more scenic route.


 Howling at the moon,
 I know I will find myself soon
 written into a poem, and
 from this world, I shall be forgotten.

Cougar

Cougar was my favorite cat
I still remember the first time I saw him
He was not a kitten, but a full-grown cat
In fact, he was huge and fat
His fir was Grey with black stripes


Cougar was not my cat then
He belonged to my best friend
Whose mom use to say
He will be your cat one day
Just look at how he adores you
He would sit on my lap for hours it true


Then came the day 
My friend moved away
And Cougar came with me to stay
He fit in just fine
That crazy feline
Used to walk with the dogs and I


Cougar was the most intelligent cat I ever saw
He used to stand on his hind feet, stretch, and open the door with his paw
He loved to ride upon my shoulders
And chase after ponytail holders


Our time together was far too short
I’m sure you’re happy in kitty heaven
But I just want to say that I miss you sweet friend

Those Hands

The hands that once pointed
    in every direction
Have failed to move since she gave it away,
And though the band is much to tight, 
He still wears it every day.  
It helps him to remember
   that moonless night.
That night he tried to make her stay. 
Losing himself in his own reflection,
He remembers the words that she used to say,
The sweet reverberation,
Trembling from her lips in exasperation.
Eyes lost in a distant fading memory,
Like fog dissipating 
     with the arrival of the day,
He stares at his watch,
Waiting,
For those hands 
Hoping,
To continue 
Stuck in the past,
Their ritualist dance.
Those hands.

Ode to a Brother

Three thousand miles I did walk
Across this mass of rock,
Through the dying land
And desert sands.
Wandering lonely through dark forests,
Never did I need to rest,
For I was driven by a dream
From my childhood, or so it seems.
... Wandering through forest fires,
Looking for a place that would hire
A rambler marching through hopeless nights,
Far from the city lights.
Through the bad lands
And black hills I did roam
Until I came head to head with a buffalo
Who peered deep into my soul,
And told me never to stop, 
and just go go go.
Over the mountains I did ramble,
With my life I chose to gamble
Until my home I found
Nestled in the Puget Sound.
With each step I got closer
To reconnecting with my big brother.
However, it was very disappointing to find,
After meeting so many strangers 
who were all so kind,
That my big brother,
Whom I once looked up to,
Makes me feel like shit.
I am so sorry Matthew.
I will try to make it up to you.

The Brothers

I remember when we were each a little kid,
 Everything we did,
 And every place we hid.

 Yes, yes. I remember too.
 I remember that I was always so mean to you.
 I was an asshole it’s true.


 That’s okay brother, I love you just the same.
 It was all really just a game
 we used to play I forget the name.
 However, it was not tame,
 And a little lame.


 Do you remember dad?
 How he always seemed so mad,
 And could easily make us sad.


 He was always so quiet and gruff,
 His whiskers so rough,
 He wanted us to be tough,
 How he could stop our fighting by simply saying, “ENOUGH!”


And what about mom and the stories she told us at night?
 She always knew what to say to make everything all right.
 She would say to stay within sight,
 And to love each other and never fight.


 I remember she use to take us for rides in the car
 to gaze upon every star.
 It always seemed so damn far.


 She would make us listen to the radio
 as we cried, “Oh no!”
 “We don’t want to go!”
Those are some of my favorite memories, ya know.


 I am so glad I am here.
 It has been many a long year
 since we have talked over a beer.
 Don’t cry brother, dry that tear.
 I wish you lived more near,
 So every now and then, I could kick you in the rear.


 Well I am growing sick of this city.
 The air is much too gritty,
 And the people are all so shitty.
 It really is a pity
 that I live so far.


 Well, then stop talking and get in the car.

Evolution of Self

Slithering up from the pungent Puget Sound,
 I eventually evolved into my father.
 Though denial has been a blindfold,
 self-discovery shall be the key.
 Life and inspiration have emerged from the
 murky depths of this diseased estuary,
 but must soar far above this crowded city
 if I am ever to be truly free.


 This is the land of my birth,
 where I was raised and had my first kiss,
 and though the winds of fate have brought
 me back, it seems it has changed,
 or perhaps I have grown.
 Nonetheless, this town has shrunk
 into a hopeless memory,
 and I’m stuck here without my family.


 Wandering this lonely road,
 looking up to the moon for answers,
 coyotes crying for their mothers,
 home is in the rear view mirror.
 I see my father in my own reflection,
 and suddenly I understand who I am.
 I spread my wings and fly home
 to be close to the people I love.

The Dude

Sometimes there’s a man
 He’s the man for his time and place
 He fits right in there
 And that’s the dude.


 The Dude cruises town in his brown and rust colored car,
 Smokin’ J’s, drinkin’ white Russians,
 And listenin’ to Creedence Clearwater Revival on tape.
 
 The Dude is unemployed,
 But the Dude does not need a job
 He spends his days bowling with his friends Walter and Donny.


 Mistaken for a wealthy millionaire
 A Chinaman pees on the Dude’s rug
 That rug really tied the room together
 Obviously, you’re not a golfer.


 Fuck you, Walter
 What’s wrong with Walter, Dude?
 Shut up. Donny, you are out of your element
 Best friends.


 The Dude minds, this aggression will not stand, man
 You mind if I do a J?
 The Dude gets involved.


 They’re going to kill that poor woman
 Her life was in your hands, Dude
 She kidnapped herself
 Viva Las Vegas. Bunny is on the run.


 The Dude’s car is stolen
 The Dude’s rug is stolen
 I guess we can close the file on that one
 They’ve got four more detectives working on the case,
 They got us working in shifts,
 Leads


 Do you like sex Mr. Lebowski?
 Coitus?
 The Doctor is a good man and thorough
 Love me, Jeffery
 That’s my robe
 Let me explain something about the Dude.


 Walter’s a Vietnam vet
 His friends died face down in the muck
 He will finish his coffee
 Fuck the tournament, fuck you, Walter
 Friends like these


 Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes the bar eats you
 Take her easy, Dude
 All the Dude ever wanted was his rug back
 Darkness washed over the Dude, there was no bottom


 Walter isn’t Jewish, but don’t tell him that.
 The Nihilists attack
 They believe in nothing
 Donny has a heart attack
 Donny who loved bowling
 They scatter his ashes across the bosom of the Pacific Northwest
 What was that shit about Vietnam, Walter?
 Fuck it, Dude, lets go bowling.


 Strikes and gutters,
 Ups and downs
 The Dude abides
 I take comfort in that
 The Dude, takin’ it easy for all us sinners.


 The Coen brothers teach us an important lesson in friendship,
 And not to take life too seriously
 Pure genius.

Waiting

Life is a series of disappointments, 
though no one ever says so.
 Waiting for just the right moment in which to live,
 days turn into years as life passes us by
 with no concerns for our dreams.


 Looking forward as a child 
life seems long.
 Looking back as an adult 
it seems too short. 
 Society bares its claws deep into our memories, 
 and we lose sight of our dreams. 


 We tell ourselves, “I’ll do it tomorrow,”
but tomorrow never comes.
 We are stuck in repetition
 like machines without emotion.

Madness is Alive and Well

 Lightning rips through the black midnight sky
 Revealing the moons mad, chaotic grin.
 Children awake in their beds
 Screaming for their mothers to come in.
 Rain taps upon the window
 Like some lunatic who begs to be let in.
 Thundering gods battle over earth
 As the devil begins to grin.

Evolution of Self II

I slithered from the Puget Sound 
 and evolved into a loser,
 But before coming to shore 
 I found so much more. 
 The cold waters envelope me 
 as I sink deep into the sea.
 Weightless, drifting along the currents
 searching for others like me.
 Fish with hungry eyes circle around
 like wolves ready to attack.
 In the shadows of the kelp forest I did hide,
 safe, but alone. 
 It would be better if I died.
 Eyes closed, I made a wish on a yellow
 sea star dancing below.
 “Give me the strength to face my fears
 and set me free for the rest of my years.”
 Toward the polluted waters of the shipyard I swam
 convinced all the warnings were mere scam.
 The fish were few the closer I drew toward the
 sludgy, brown waters of the colossal navy base. 
 The change instantly began to take place.
 I grew arms and legs. I could not breathe. 
 I swam for the surface, emerged gasping for air,
 and struggled to reach land,
 Collapsing on the hot sand, I was welcomed 
 by the comforting salty breeze 
 of the pungent Puget Sound,
 and knew I was finally home,
 a byproduct of my surroundings.