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Thoughts

“Words” are the leaves that grow

From branches in the mind

And cover our thoughts with color,

And always fall... in time—

“Poems” are the lawn beneath

Where we hide in the shade

And our souls frolic bare footed,

Catching the thoughts... once made—

“Time” is yellowed paper

That holds them forever

Or at least long enough, for us,

To forget them... never—

I joined Y!A back in 1967 when it first started and I've noticed people aren't as star giving as back then.

I writ this for my girlfriend; she'll be a senior next year and I'll only be a 10th grader again...I'm really trying to impress her cousin here.

Baby, I love you

only I can not tell you

how much.

The Sun on my canvas

only represents

your touch;

it does not represent the feelings,

emotions,

and such.

God only made several colors,

guess she thought they’d be

enough . . .

So it is in these words, their meanings and their lack there of

that you’ll have to use your imagination

for some re-creation

to try and work it out

how much.

Hey peeps! My computer lost a poem titled "Thoughts" that I can't seem to remember... is there a way I can look it up on here without having to go through every question I ever asked.

Thank you

It was so very long ago that something of great

insignificance happened

Yet the memory seems like that of yesterday's

scrambled eggs leftover all day

in the microwave

clear enough

but will never be reheated quite the same

The Leopard

walked with out dots

and The Tiger gave up

his stripes

The Antelope forgot his horns

and the antlers of The Deer

were lost.

The Coon shared with The Shrew

and The Mole could finally see.

THEY

They were an ignorant child

with their one sighted eyes,

their lazy hands and clumsy feet.

They believed

in fictional best sellers and had no true heart

to follow. They couldn’t quite figure out how

to change their bath water or keep their groceries

rotated and fresh.

They were horrible tenants and couldn’t respect property

even if it was theirs.

Delinquent on their garbage bills,

their waste surrounds them.

When the authorities finally show up

to evict them

they will rent a generic moving truck,

not a U-haul or Ryder or anything like that,

but one without a muffler,

a bad catalytic converter and bald tires.

They will end up stranded

heading South

with only their p!ss to fill the radiator.

The Buzzards will circle—

that’s all they’ll do is circle . . .

and laugh.

In the tide of time gone by

friends can go, disappear and get

lost. Am I

without friends. In need

of those that inspire with pen. I admire

the musings of others.

I did not drink yesterday

and I did not paint

that red enamel on

the charcoal grill

that was just a coincidence

I did not wake

or over sleep

I emptied the melon chunks from my mind

the ants were getting bad

the ashtray is always kept

dumped

and I have hairs in my brow that need plucked

and some to peacock

I have this job

that loves hating me

and I really have to get around

to putting in that screen

the June bugs are horrible

I did not drink yesterday

My wife has got me in a world of ****.

HELL

The hall: dark, long

Walls of Tuscany gold

February like clouds lift

As if . . . Sun shines

Beckoning on words

Forward always too

Rodin carved doors

Demanding authority

Pity . . . battle ram

Needless—unlatched

Gait steady, stride

Gate opened wide

Reservations made

Prayed . . . I should’ve

Baptismal disappointment

Obsidian orbs

Indiscriminately capturing

Light eternally held

Fell . . . unmentionable depths

Arson, murder, theft

A chair, a throne

Mine to have

Minds to own

Else led to the hall

Dark and long

The Alley and an Open Barstool

The moist stampering of the rats

feet muffled the sound of excessive

merriment. The brick walls loosing

their mortar like falling off drunken

flies. The tobacco smoke

of guilt and the greasy smell of envy.

The happy sound of a puddle

being squashed by a tire,

and the crows on the wires.

The sirens of stupidity yell . . .

a warmer place around

the corner with beer.

I have a date tonight

Cold finger

long nail

soft heart

sorry intestines

heaving

and bleeding

Billy don't like Bob, and that black kid

runs like the devil.

Casey should be safety

and Tom should be tackle.

Maria looks good as the mascot,

and I didn't get that position he got.

Please hurry, it's due by fifth period.

The Corner of My Eye

thought I saw a windchime today

thought it was you walking my way

the wind blew

and you sang

fleeting moments do not last

and the winds have shadows that they cast

(Actually it's just a sentence)

ODE TO DECIDE

I stood in the doorway of guilt

and

forgiveness, not knowing

which way to turn;

I tripped

over the threshold

and fell

the wrong way.

Shultzie???? Hmmmmm