Month: September 2018

Sending thoughts to outer space, they’re not lost without a trace. Willing eyes are there to read, your posted words in blinding speed. The Internet exacerbates, what is seen to seal our fates. There is one tip I’d recommend, please think long ‘fore you hit “SEND.”

As I creep close to seventy, nostalgia rears incessantly. Memories seem to give me pause, and make it better than it was. Leather jacket – Rock n’ Roll, a simple life I could control. Wax my car then take a ride, a pretty chick sits at my side. Draggin’ main with windows down, meeting friends … Read moreMemories

A beauty in a field of grass, young but with a touch of class. Gold hair blowing in the breeze, designer boots up too her knees. Unaware her place in time, which is why I write this rhyme. To share with you just what I see, and grateful she’s a part of me!

I bag the leaves in Spring again, collect them up with some disdain. Seems the ones I raked last Fall, somehow returned to get my gall. As I bend to shove them in, thoughts do wonder what has been. How many years are left in me, to rake the leaves to some degree?

The house is small but it is ours, bought and paid just like the cars. Said our stay would just be brief, now thirty-six in disbelief. Not the place I thought we’d live, or all the years to it we’d give. With no regrets or need to rant, guess we’re here until we can’t?

Photographs and Memories, place in time sure guarantees. Faded yellow – younger years, facing life with minor fears. Now days time’s in megabytes, posted to those social sites. Future won’t be as before, no more photos in a drawer

“Aye” the Pirate says to you, “i’s”in Mississippi too, “eyes” in needles used to sew, “i” for times we used to know, “Eyes on Fridge” I mention here, seeing things that we hold dear, scraps of paper turned to gold, holding stories to be told.  

Could I have been a Donald Trump, and not another common chump? Soaring high for all to see, I am the greatest – just ask me! “The Bob” – it seems – don’t have the ring, to make the masses jump and sing. But as “The Donald” keeps on scorin’, he’ll likely never be a … Read moreCould I have been a Donald Trump?

Three friends walking hand-in-hand, a place in time they do command. Difference races walking there, color blind without a care. Spanish, White, Iranian, if kids can do it perhaps we can, work together like the youth, it beats a fight and that’s the truth!    

What kind of person does consent, to plot the path to President??? Do we get the very best, or just the ones the most possessed? Endless questions – scrutiny, the average sole would mutiny. A rented house – a jet to fly, there must be more than meets the eye?