Afraid

I'm afraid of the future,
I'm afraid of my past,
I'm afraid I'm too happy,
and happy don't last.

I'm afraid for my job,
it's too good to be true.
Good things don't last,
then what will I do?

I'm afraid to get old,
I'll be all alone.
Who gets my stuff,
when I'm stuck in some home?

I'm afraid of my truck,
I could run out of gas,
or not make it home,
if I drive it too fast.

I'm afraid of freedom,
it can be taken away.
I'm afraid of a world,
that could make me afraid.

I'm afraid you won't like me,
if my verses don't rhyme.
and now I'm afraid,
that I've wasted your time.

New Math

Still Raining...nice.
I thought that I drank alot of beer last night. Then I found all of the bottles around the house this morning, still half full.
I guess I only drank half as much as I thought.
That's o.k. Today I'm only drinking half as much as I had planned. (plus the half that was left over from last night)
That should put me right back on schedule!
Right?

The Succubus

Almost over night it happened.
The change occurred.
The yellow came.
Something is sucking the green from my lush jungle, leaving in its wake a wounded forest.
The trees that stood so proudly all summer guarding and embracing my hilltop paradise are now withering and wearing the rags of fallen warriors.
Orange and yellow adorn these proud giants where only yesterday their emerald armors gave shelter to the creatures of my land.
They may still stand strong.
But soon, they'll stand naked.
These molestations seem to coincide with the chilling of the night.
That's when "she" comes to prey.
To rape the honor of her victims and suck their life into her cold belly.
The only witness, a full, but silent Moon.
I am safe in my castle, for now, but it is a rude awakening.
A subtle reminder of what must be done.
Time is running out.
There are still things I must do.
Preparations to be made...
If I want to be ready for winter.

Creeping Death

These last days...
The view from the tower where I reside has been consumed by an eerie mist.
The wooded hills and all that is in them, shrouded by the spectral fog.
Sol, a hostage of the elements.
I enjoy the grey serenity. There is something calming about it.
Haunting, yet beautiful.
I watch it make its rounds.
Gliding in and out of the edges of the forest.
Like wraiths on patrol.
Guarding the perimeter of Avalon.
My home.
Planet Dandy.

Slugish

I wish I could remember something that I never even knew.
I wish there was a secret about me that I never got to know.
Some fantastic story so amazing that it would change my life.
An epoch revelation that I was never meant to find out about, but did.
A truth that I was suppose to learn when I turned a certain age but was lost.
Something that would make me question my very being.
What's it like to wake up one morning to find out you were never even who you thought you were?

I suppose it's any poets dream to remove themselves from their own reality to seek inspiration from somewhere unknown to them.
I should just be happy knowing that I am who I am, where I am and enjoy my phlegmatic existence.
Besides, humans are far too complicated and fragile of a species to emulate.

Still...What if?

Pussy

It's Sunday morning. I woke up a feeling little hung over, but then again, I always do, no matter how well behaved I've been.
Not much point in behaving I guess.
Before opening my eyes I stretch my arm over to the right of me and feel her warm body.
I knew she would still be there. She always is, and I take comfort in that.
She is so beautiful in the morning with the sun caressing her body and warming her hair.
I snuggle up to her for a few kisses then sluggishly wander down stairs to start the water for my tea.
Most days she would be right behind me, but today...Not even the sound of the television or the smells and sounds of breakfast tempt her to join me.
Should I have stayed in bed with her? Did she think I would come back? It's hard to know what she expects from me some times.
I prepare my breakfast.
Just as I'm setting my hash and eggs on the table she walks in and sits down. I should have expected this, her timing is impeccable.
She just sits there and stares at me, expressionless.
Now, am I supposed to feel some kind of guilt for something? I hate these awkward moments.
I put a little food on a plate for her. She just looks at it, then walks outside to sit on the back porch which is right outside the kitchen window.
She watches me watch her.
Whatever.
I enjoyed my meal alone while watching some romantic drama unfold on the television.
Now, all that's left, is for me to do the dishes.
Her food will stay on her plate.
She went out for breakfast.
I know this because I can see her from where I sit as I write this.
She went to her usual place. Her favorite place.
She loves sitting in that path that goes through the tall grass in the yard.
She'll sit there for an hour if she has to.
She always gets her mouse.
She's good.
I love my cat.

The Mirror

Gaze if you can
through the mirror to your mind,
in search for a soul
that you can not find.
A distorted vision
awaits you there,
a face that no longer
can seem to care.
A life without meaning,
a means with no cause,
transgressions of years
scrawled with blood on the walls.
Surreptitious existence
evolved in your head.
Your questions unanswered
till too late,
you are dead.

(A little ditty I wrote during my Jim Morrison phase back around 1980.)

WONDERFUL

I went to a Circle Jerks show at a small club in San Diego back in 1989. To avoid the mosh pit and still enjoy the show up close, I sat on the edge of the stage. When I heard the bass line intro for the song 15 Minutes, I yelled "15 Seconds!"
Kieth Morris, the singer, looked at me and said, "It's 15 Minutes, man!"
Oops, my bad.
At some other point, another fan handed Keith a quarter. Between the next few songs he would pull the quarter out of his pocket and flip it a couple of times saying, "I've got a quarter." Then he would put it back in his pocket.
So, I got an idea.
While he was singing in front of me I handed him a dollar and he put it in his pocket.
Then, after the next song, he pulled the dollar out of his pocket and said, "I don't need a dollar, man. I've got a quarter." And he handed the dollar back to me.
At the end of the show I got to shake hands with each of the band members as they left the stage.
I was in heaven that night.
The Circle Jerks were my favorite band back in those days and I still love them.
I even have a tattoo of their skank man logo on my leg.
I still have the dollar, too.
I wonder, though, does he still have the quarter?

Nothings Shocking

While laying on my lawn with my cat, enjoying the perfection of a summer day, I observed how much life was in the air just above the ground. Grasshoppers, mosquitoes, pollen, and all of those seeds from plants that float on the air. Dragonfly's, butterfly's, and winged things that I can't even name. So much traffic going every which way. Some of it was landing on me looking for it's next meal. The blood sucking insects kept me busy swatting in self defense and also made me appreciate something that I had never thought of before.

What if jellyfish could fly?

Can you imagine if they were filled with a lighter than air gas (like helium) that would enable them to float on the air? Living dirigibles of death! Visualize a floating Man of War with silky electric tentacles drifting into you as you sun bathe in your yard, getting caught in your hair and sticking to your skin!

On one hand, they would be a wondrous sight to see. Imagine the luminescent ones glowing in the night like alien angels. Beautiful, but deadly.

Having pondered that, I feel fortunate now. All I have to worry about are the mosquito's and black flies. That's not too bad.

Therefore, the next time you find yourself running from a harmless bee or swatting an annoying fly, pause for a second to put things into perspective. It could be alot worse, but it's not.

Jellyfish can't fly!

Spiders From Mars

I hesitate to mention this. I don't want to sound paranoid or anything but I think my spiders are ganging up on me.
So far we have lived in relative harmony. I see them in all the corners of the castle and I let them be. I don't see any sense in killing them just because they're there. Yeah, so they can be a little creepy when they jump out in front of you on the bathroom sink, or hanging in front of your face as you walk into the bedroom, but hey, I'm willing to share my space. I also assume that we have common enemies of the annoying flies and mosquitoes and that my spiders are doing their best to keep these pests in line so that I am less bothered by them.
As of this morning I am suspicious that they are stepping out of their corners and feeding on me. Besides all the huge bite marks on my arms, legs, and elsewhere, I found myself walking through spider webs that spanned my hallways and even across my living room. Now are these guys working overtime to keep up with the pest population or am I dinner?
I don't plan any rash retaliation yet. I am willing to lay low and let them work, as long as it's not on me. I will, however, have my guard up.
I may only have two eyes but they are open.
One spider looks at me sideways and it's...
Bam Bang, to the the Moon!

SPORE

Aliens are trying to take my body.
This happens every year around the same time. It must be the alignment of the planets or something.
It takes all of my energy to resist.
They come at night and try to poison me. Once I am completely sedated, they will assume control of my body and become a host. I can only thank my sleepless nights for surviving as long as I have.
Somehow, they spread a fine yellow dust all over my house and surrounding property. Sometimes in the morning, I can see clouds of it floating down out of the trees. My truck is covered with it. Do they think I don't notice?
The space dust dust gets into my immune system and shuts it down. I can feel it surging through my sinuses and throat.
I can't breathe without coughing, my nose won't stop running, my eyes are watery and I am overcome with fatigue.
If they have their way, I will drift into a dreamless sleep and awaken as one of them. A mindless zombie that drinks light beer and rents Ben Stiller movies.
Well not me, mister! I would rather die first!
I will fight for my planet and for all that is good!
Viva La Resistance!
Long Live Planet Dandy.

The Nothing

There is something really relaxing about doing nothing.
Doing nothing right is easy. To do nothing properly is an accomplishment.
I think that could be why I get up so early everyday. It gives me a few hours to do nothing before I go to work. If I have too much time to do nothing, inevitably, I will wait till the last minute and it's not as satisfying.
Doing nothing involves keeping your thoughts on the present. Not planning anything or thinking about what you will do, want to do, or should be doing. Simply being. Not doing.
The trick is to make yourself think that you are doing something without actually doing anything, and not thinking about what you are or are not doing.
I can spend three hours doing nothing before I go to work and be totally relaxed and feel like I've already accomplished enough, so the rest of the day I can feel mentally unchallenged.
I hate to be rushed. I have been rushed and hurried most of my life and only recently realized that I was the one rushing myself.
Many years ago, a former employer complimented me by saying that I have, "A sense of urgency to every thing that I do." I don't need that stress any more. I want to be the opposite of that. So what if I ain't doing much. Doing nothing means a lot to me.
With that thought, I have to go.
I have nothing to do and I am running out of time to do it.
If I waited till the last minute, I would have to rush.
--and that would be something!

Blood Sucking Freaks

It's not safe outside.

They are waiting for me.

Waiting for my blood.

I thought that if I was quick enough, I could do some work in my garden without being noticed.

I was quiet and discrete, staying close to the ground.

Wearing camouflaged coveralls and mask, I attempted invisibility.

That was vain.

They could smell my fear.

They crave the meat under my skin.

My meat is life to them and they devour it without hesitation.

I am cattle to their slaughter.

It is their purpose in life, their only thought, their passion, their job.

I managed to get my garden planted in short intervals.

I could only stand the attacks for so long before running back to the safety of my castle.

Summer is in bloom on my mountain top and I long for the peaceful walks through the forest.

That pleasure will have to wait awhile.

They are out there. Waiting for my blood.

In time, they will die.

Die from too short a lifespan? Die from lack of feeding?

I don't care as long as they die!

Then it will be my time. For now, it is their time.

The vampires of Maine.

The winged carnivores.

Oh, how I hate the Black Fly.

Sunspot Baby

Like a dust mop with feet, shirking her duties, she's grounded in the corner entertaining the sun.
"Shirk what?" She says nonchalantly. "I'm a cat. It's what I do."

A wisp of chimney smoke frolics outside my window like a lost spirit trying to find a home.

"I'm not lost." It says insouciantly. "It's what I do."

Why do I ponder minutiae and impose significance on the mundane? I ask myself ostentatiously.

"It's what I do."

Rainy Day Dream Away

"Rainy day rain all day

Ain't no use in gettin' uptight

Just let it groove its own way

Let it drain Your worries away

Lay back and groove on a rainy day

Lay back and dream on a rainy day"

---Jimi Hendrix

Perfect words for a perfect day. The weekend is upon me and it will rain all day today and tomorrow. It's darkly tranquil on my mountain top. The field is turning lush green. A hint of the summer that approaches and a fitting contrast to the charcoal skies above.The trees almost seem to form leaves as I watch. My world is in slow motion.

The fire in my woodstove is like the last breath of a dying friend whose company I will soon miss. For now, though, the comfort of the heat on a cold rainy day is a guilty pleasure.

Music assaults my senses from all directions as the trees outside slam dance to the wind.

The forest is alive.

Neither happy or angry.

Just moving.

Moshing.

[WITH_TEETH]

Night of the Feeders

They're back.

The snow is almost gone from the field.

In the forest it's still deep.

That could be why they're back.

When I get home from work at night I feel their eyes all over me.

I can't tell how close they are through the darkness.

The thick calm.

I walk from my truck across the yard to the back door.

I know they're out there.

I walk slow.

They watch me.

My cat sits at the window.

Cats have a keen extra sense.

She knows they're there.

Some times I'll shine a flashlight around the yard and their glowing eyes are everywhere!

All eyes on me.

My cat can see them too.

They are out there!

It is morning as I write this.

The sun begins its journey to the night.

I can see them at the edge of the forest that surrounds my yard.

They are coming.

Yesterday morning there were six of them right outside my window.

They are definitely back.

I took pictures.

Proof.

They don't care if it's day or night.

They've come to feed.

They like it here.

They are safe

for now.

Safe for the summer.

At least until...

Deer Hunting Season!

Soul Sacrifice

I feel so groovy, man.
Watching the Woodstock concert on my T.V.
Burning a candle that I made myself.
Outside my window the sun... slowly... sinks...looking like a red water balloon flattening out into a yellow aura that hugs the top of a nearby mountain as it fades from pink to purple to black.
The light shifts from the horizon to my table where the candle now seems brighter than a few minutes ago.
I embrace the night.
Now... 'scuse me... while I kiss the sky!

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

I am the classic All American Boy!

I want it all!

I want this and I want that.

I have more than anyone could ever need.

I have rooms full of electric guitars, amplifiers, comic books, stereos, collectibles of every genre from Rock n Roll, to Famous Monsters.

New York Post...JOHN LENNON SHOT DEAD.

Autographs, Photographs, phonographs.

Posters and Coasters.

Cookbooks and Matchbooks.

I got more shit than a two seater outhouse!

Guitar Picks, Drum Sticks and Backstage Passes.

Leather Jackets and Old Ripped Jeans.

Concert shirts from back in my teens.

Now there's DVD and Internet too!

There's no stopping

the shopping

that this kid can do!

This isn't a poem,

so I'll End it soon.

It seems though,

that no matter how bad I want something,

as soon as I get it,

I want something else!

When is enough enough?

If they would just stop making stuff,

I could stop wanting it,

and finaly

have it

ALL!

Time Machine

If I had a time machine...

I would go back in time to when there was no electricity and open up a video store. No one would no what a video was, so they wouldn't know that I wasn't selling them a video!
Instead, I would describe a movie to them.

It would be in elaborate detail.

It would be a story that they could take home and share around the fireplace after dinner.
That's how folks entertained each other back in the olden days!
Now, I doubt that everyone was a born story teller, so it could get pretty boring around the ol' fireplace with no new stories.
Face it, they couldn't regale the children with stories about the olden days because the olden days were just beginning!
Yup, I can see it now...
JIM'S VIDEO, STORIES TOLD FOR A DOLLAR
The best thing would be, No Late Fees!

"Gather 'round the fire, children. Gramps is gonna tell a new story!"

"A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..."