Fait accompli

Living in this world
Full of people
Who pretend
With a face you know
And voice you trust
An evil double walker
With an insidious heart
Juggling lies and cynical smiles
Driving at the edge
The edge of eternity
Fog lays heavy on the land
Like sand dunes Frozen in time
Amoral mist swirling about
Juggling lies behind cynical smiles
Living in a world
Full of pretentious people
Desiring the unattainable
Caressing those egos
Ones that cannot be confronted
Wrestling with moral issues
With an insidious heart
Juggling lies with cynical smiles
An unhappy life hiding
Hiding behind blasé urbane
The prescient deception
Meeting in the middle of nowhere
With a face you know And voice you trust

A Face Amongst The Crowd

A face in the crowd

Snaps your head around
Making your heart race
Most unexpectedly

A ghost of happy memories
A twin in the future past
Do you see a twin of me?
Now that I am gone
Now and then

Walking amongst the crowds
Standing in front of you in a café
Driving by on the highway
When you close your eyes to dream
When you lift your eyes to see

The image in front of you has changed
The twinge in your heart is real
So you look closer
Just to satisfy a curiosity
Of that ghost that is gone

A face in a crowd
Boarding a airplane
Or going by on the train
Snapping your head up
Making your heart race
Most unexpectedly

A  ghost of happy memories
A twin in the future past
Recognition subtle mannerisms
Looking to see if there is a possibility
Do find yourself rushing
Just to see if there is a possibility
Curiosity taking you back
Looking again the next day
Longing for that face in the crowd

A face in the crowd
Snaps your head up
Just for second before it is gone
Making your heart race
Most unexpectedly

Heroes without villains

Does every hero have an antagonist?
Does every god have the same?
Do some heroes look through stone walls?
Reading horoscopes before saving the day
Do some gods practice voodoo?
Pushing pins into human beings
Did we build them up with skills?
We wished we could obtain

Picture a world with heroes without villains
Gods without antagonistic protagonists
Stonewalls are boundaries to a land title
Voodoo is a song about dancing in the sand
Humans not being some bodies play thing
A place where everyone has ocean view

Does every hero have to have an evil twin?
Does every god have to have the same?
Do some heroes have heroes of their own?
Do some gods believe they have fathers and mothers too?

A world without heroes
And gods without faults
A place without pain and sorrow
A stone house on beach near Spain
That we can save for tomorrow
And live without shame
Sit and wish everyone had the same
Where memories brought smiles
A place near tomorrow
And gods had heroes
And mothers and fathers too
Where they can build us up with skills
They wish they could obtain

Doubt is a serpent

Doubt is a serpent that has bite
And a long memory
Slithering in gardens
Eden by any other name
Even paradise can look different
After doubt has wondered there
You can hear heart breaking
It is impossible to wait forever
Even forever must end
Ghosts of memories past
Why stop when walking through hell
Trepidation and disdain are the fangs of doubt
Engulfing souls without a gate keeper
The veneer of civilization thin
A journey to no end
With the aroma of roses in the air
Maître d ‘for eternity
God is merciful they say
But only if you can sneak by a saint
Who has heard every line?
Even the slapstick of truth
Going back to the beginning of time
For Mortals everything is a test
Yet not every test is meant for every one
Hades had a river separating it
From the here and now
For me this is paradise
For me this is hell
All under the skies of heaven
Is that Saint a comedian?
Standing it purgatory
Only looking but never stepping in
During his off hours
Resting in an address in hell
It is impossible to wait forever
Even forever must end
We all change in time
Every mirror has two sides
Thin between love and hate
Staring into eternity
A journey to no end

What is with this.........

What is with this Fucking Wind?

Mocking bird flutters
In the thin morning air
Four am chime like London fog
Even before the sun puts a finger up
Peeking and crawling across the sky

A flavor bitter sweet
One scoop too little
And often way to much
Who can judge the judge of souls?

Fluttering wings unheard
Yet effecting the colours
That seems to crawl across
The sky bringing a resolute wind

Who judges the reflections?
On the surface of the moon
The only mirrors protection our eyes
Even though what remains burns away

Mocking bird flutters
In the thin morning air
Four am chime like London fog
Expected to wait forever
Judging right or wrong

Fluttering wings unheard
Yet effecting the colours of the clouds
Fate choosing those that react
Not the ones that stand back
Motivational poster sold on a corner

A flavor better sweet
Like the wind, gone forever
Because we changed
And never can go back
Reliving history

Who judges the reflections?
On the surface of the moon
The only mirrors protection our eyes
Hidden away from what we know

An opportunity ignored and disavowed
Everything in life designed to test
Punished to a dynamic limit
But not every test is for every one
Mocking bird flutters saying I hate tests

Sensing sarcasm

A voice like summer rain
A Russian sorrow song
Pavlovian treat subtle
Bordering on uxorious

Dragonian ecclesiastic garb
Irrelevant outbursts
Self entitled general practitioner
Predatory snob with delusions of grandeur
In time even it will fade

Theatrical parody this life
Sitting on a pew under heaven
Machiavellian gods plan
Divine satire of travesty

Overanalyzing these words
Immortal deals with the devil
Double entendre restrained
Unconscious equilibrium

A voice in the wind calm
Ultimate keeper of spite
Marble master piece
With the tiniest of cracks
It was never meant to be

Pantomiming passionate concern
Anonymous naïve déjà vu
A voice like summer rain
A song in any language

Her voice provocative
Splashing on skin
One drop at time
Refreshing in the heat of summer

Inspiration missed placed
From a place long ago
Without a history nor a future
Uncomfortable mortality


A voice in the shadow of life regrets
It is familiar and we believe safe
Alzheimer’s glimpse into eternity
Fluid options to a new normal

Not everything is about you
Etiquette and protocol
Egotistical attempt to fill an empty shell
Indulgencing silhouettes

Facetious Freudian slips
Acquiesced in silence
Criticized and complained about
Equinox of shallow thoughts

A voice like summer rain
Saucy transgressions
Freedom is scary
A Russian song of sorrow

Staring at no where

Staring at no where
Memories accumulate
Other capsulate
Some you put in a nutshell
That drifts down a stream
One or two are hard to escape
Coming out of no where
Knocking on your subconscious
Snapping you back in time
To a place that you can’t change
No matter how hard you try
Becoming a current unimaginable
Drowning in despair
Desperately clinging to a life raft

Staring at no where
Memories encapsulate
Some you shove into a bottle
And toss into the sea
Only to see all those bottles
Crashing at your knees
Coming out of no where
Knocking at your subconscious
Snapping your head around
At a ghost that was not there
To a time you can’t change
No matter how hard you try
Becoming an under current
Pulling you in with the tide
Drowning in despair
Desperately clinging to hope

Staring at no where
Memories that have escaped
Even when you wanted more
To a time with them to short
Only to see them in a crowd
Gone before you could wonder why
Coming out of no where
Knocking on your subconscious
Snapping your head around
Making you wonder why
Walking against the current
As the crowd pushes by
Searching for perfection
When you know it can never be found
Drowning in wishful thinking
Waiting for nothing

Dear Sigmund

Inspiration missed placed
Stalking fate solicitously

Passive aggressive naivety
Oscillating delusions

Rhetorical tranquility
An Orwellian enterprise

Burning images
Sublimating memories

Freudian Alzheimer’s
Forgetting everything
Except the mind plague
An epidemic of self doubt
Down a path never travelled
To a door that stands ajar
Roses wafting in the air

T.S. Eliot was right
“Towards a door
We never opened…”

Never too late
Never too late to change
To change the future

Physiological forensic audits
Decomposing shallow thoughts
Disbelieving the obvious
Covered in history

You can walk away from the past
Try to rationalize history
It always be the same
No matter what
No matter what the words say

Never too late
Never too late to change
To change the future

Vicious sarcasm fate has
Mocking cynicism
As the smell of Roses
Waft in the air silently

Before the doors slams closed
But left unlocked

On the wings of butterflies

A hunger deep inside
That goes unfulfilled
No matter what it gets
It is left unsatisfied

The sounds of nature
On the wings of a butterfly
Sunlight shining through the trees
Rain splashing on leaves

A hunger unabated
Unfulfilled and unsatisfied
Leaving you numb
To the outside

Circle of nature
Long lines of fluttering wings
Flowing north returning
Leaving a little hunger inside

A twinge that will not go away
Running by many fields
With frost on ones breathe
Emptiness in one heart

The hoarfrost falls from the leaves
Ice braking on the ground
Not knowing if it is spring or fall
Life goes on waiting for no man

On the wings of butterflies
Nature goes on unabated
Wanting to see it all
Unfulfilled and unsatisfied

The Price of illusions

Some things are hard to bluff
Like the price of illusions
Look over the edge
Truth found in the margins
Pragmatism by tribal hypocrisy

Nomads under crying Angels
And marble Saints
Whispering the lessons
Simplicity fascinating
Flames burning to a rhythm
Dancing in the twilight
Realizing the things that make one happy
Differentiating for the things that don’t
Indifference to all the teenage drama
No matter the letters behind their names

Some things are hard to ignore
Standing on a bluff looking over the edge
Like the price of illusions
And truth in the margins
Pragmatic tribal hypocrisy

Marble Saints looking around
Silent screams of self importance
Angels crying in the background
Feathers wafting in delusions
Nomads walking into fiery horizons
Flames burning to a rhythm
Engrained by nature
Divinity preordained
Mysticism of questioning happiness
Indifference to the people that no longer matter
The people that no longer matter

Some people are hard to bluff
The ones that looked into your soul
That is the price of your illusions
The truth in the margins of your heart
Because I can’t take you seriously
Hypocrisy is not a tribal right

Nomads come in the night
Under the watchful eyes
Of crying angels
And marble saints
Whispering lessons
To the faint of heart
Expediency in the truth
Simplicity fascinating
Flames burning to the rhythm
Dancing in the twilight
Realizing the things that make me happy
Differentiating for the things that don’t
Indifference to everything in the past

Some things are hard to bluff
Like the price of illusions
Look over the edge
Truth found in the margins
Knowing when to stop
Even when there is more
Then one meaning

Love On April First

Love is April first
Does it sound better?
Better in French
Like Christmas morning
Or breakfast at Tiffany’s
Walking the streets of Paris
Arm in arm as the flowers blossom
The smell of tulips in Amsterdam
Love grows old in silence
Smiling at one another
Across the table
Knowing the words
Of each other’s thoughts
A single rose on a tomb stone
Symbolizing this love

Love is April First
Does it sounds better?
Better in Spanish
Better in Italian

Walking arm an arm in Madrid
Or on the streets of Roma
Staring at marble statues of the dead
Da Vinci’s Madonna
a love more like a painting of melting clocks

Love is April first
Does it sound better?
Better is silence
Growing old together
Every morning romantic
Hand in hand in silence
Impractical passionately idealistic
Current in any language
Even alone
A painting in The Louver
A master piece of life
Even on April first
Before noon and crusty bread