"I've never been to heaven. But I've been to Oklahoma"

cruising north on HWY 341
out of downtown Brunswick, GA
the streetlamps marking each block
flicker by, making the night
seem like a movie set
suddenly
Joe Cocker finds me on the
Oldies Station and I think to myself,
'If this is "The Oldies" then I don't
want to go no further!'
He's got a voice, a style that
makes me forget I got problems
just situations that need
re-arranging
Soak me into this mood, this moment
Make me a home here that
defies loneliness
I could lay my weary head
in this feeling forever
and death could only
nip at my heels

untitled

shortly after noon
the sun is somewhere overhead
hidden behind a blanket of
beautiful, grey, lonely overcast
this is the kind of day
that slowly mends broken hearts,
the kind of day that negates a belief
in timeclocks or day-planners

if true death could be chosen
I'd surely pick a day such as this,
sitting on a back porch rockin' chair,
smokin' cigarettes and drinkin' coffee
while the sound of grandkids in play
floats through the windows and backdoor

I would nod my head, briefly, as if
to nap or ponder some nagging question
then, with the lightest snap, like the
breaking of a toothpick, my spirit would
break free of this heavy, tired physical
form, and I would break free

floating up over the Georgia pinetrees
over the backroads hiding chicken & grits
buffets, and midnite Juke Joints
and I'd continue upward
into the overcast and beyond

up to where the sky meets a garden of stars,
the welcome matt to heaven

Broken Hearts are for Strangers

The copulated remainder of
every failed union
gathers just like old newspaper clippings
yellow, stale-smelling, cracking at the edges
this happens to the best of us who
search for a complimentary soul

yet
nothing stings like the amputation of
soft intimacy
no bed is ever colder
than the one recently evacuated
by one of two

take heed! All the
lone hearts of midnight
this feeling WILL fade
just not on your time

somewhere in a smokey room
strewn with remainders from
former lives, previous loves,
enough time will pass for
the best of us to continue
moving forward
hearts on our sleeves
meeting our next heartbreaks
through a cyber-shop window

BLAH BLAHs

Deliver me a truckload of Prozac its that kind of day where everything is going wrong 'People' say I'm a pessimist NOT TRUE I'm more of an optimist than anyone I...am...ABSOLUTELY POSITIVE...that shit happens! There's not a doubt in my mind, everything that can go wrong will It is not pessimism it's pragmatism it is realizing that at certain times in your existence, this Universe will fully and completely conspire against you Once that is realized no stress or anxiety is needed just sit back and watch the chaos unfold and hope you make it home with your head still attached to your neck

Overcast Afternoon

OVERCAST Afternoon
=============================================

shortly after noon
the sun is somewhere overhead
hidden behind a blanket of
beautiful, grey, lonely overcast
this is the kind of day
that slowly mends broken hearts,
the kind of day that negates a belief
in timeclocks or day-planners

if true death could be chosen
I'd surely pick a day such as this,
sitting on a back porch rockin' chair,
smokin' cigarettes and drinkin' coffee
while the sound of grandkids in play
floats through the windows and backdoor

I would nod my head, briefly, as if
to nap or ponder some nagging question
then, with the lightest snap, like the
breaking of a toothpick, my spirit would
break free of this heavy, tired physical
form, and I would break free

floating up over the Georgia pinetrees
over the backroads hiding chicken & grits
buffets, and midnite Juke Joints
and I'd continue upward
into the overcast and beyond

up to where the sky meets a garden of stars,
the welcome matt to heaven

Broken Hearts are for Strangers

The copulated remainder of
every failed union
gathers just like old newspaper clippings
yellow, stale-smelling, cracking at the edges
this happens to the best of us who
search for a complimentary soul

yet
nothing stings like the amputation of
soft intimacy
no bed is ever colder
than the one recently evacuated
by one of two

take heed! All the
lone hearts of midnight
this feeling WILL fade
just not on your time

somewhere in a smokey room
strewn with remainders from
former lives, previous loves,
enough time will pass for
the best of us to continue
moving forward
hearts on our sleeves
meeting our next heartbreaks
through a cyber-shop window