Chemical Truth

It’s so incredible chemicals ruled me,
I fancied myself young and smart.
My lusts aimed at various targets;
I considered my moves an art!

Now older, these conquests useless;
I was a robotic, hormonal slave…
Still wishing I’d held on to another,
While supporting mistakes to the grave.

There is a beauty in growing old,
Body’s programs decrease with age,
Chemical breakdown, lust is dead,
Now the truth erupts on every page.

Stockton Bad Boys

Stockton's bad boys water skied,
Then tip-toed into the slums…
We donned tuxedos for the prom,
Buying our liquor from street bums.

Our homes had heated private pools,
Yet we swam irrigation ditches,
Our fathers were the councilmen,
Mothers wore the family's riches.

We dined in the finest restaurants,
Too young for their first class bars,
Preferring to park on levees,
Getting shit-faced in our cars.

There was something about the valley,
That held us year after year.
Brave boys purchased plane tickets,
The content, just bought more beer.

But Once

But once in our life, we walk the line
Falling to the side of the road,
Where hitchhikers die of starvation,
The motorists, seeing only a toad.

But once in our life we hold out hope,
Soldiers break down the walls at the forts
Recognizing a true living history,
Like Braille, reading our warts.

But once in our life, we still dream,
True love ignores our old age,
Where a stranger’s soul now among us,
Enters, on life’s center stage.

Farley

In their backyard was a doghouse.
Farley spent hours there alone,
Anticipating when Old Brown
Returned his master home.

His doghouse was a prison,
Guarded by a leash of leather,
Farley lived with desperate hope
He’d be released soon from his tether.

Farley pined so in the doghouse,
He’d memorized every board;
Waiting to see his master,
In Old Brown, the one-eyed Ford.

Were

If I could stop all dying,
So both enemies could live,
I would witness once, true freedom,
Were peace, my gift to give.

If I could halt the north winds,
What ravage my life and beach,
I’d live in absolute splendor,
Were calm seas within my reach.

If I could stop dying honey bees,
Our fathers lost in the mine,
I’d grant everyone eternity,
Were I in control of time.

Unraveled and Unbraided

When I walked my black and yellow dogs,
After moving to the Island forest,
We were surrounded by new species,
Never seen , new life before us.

The most haunting and remembered,
Was the Winter Robin’s song;
Now heard while walking Oregon,
Alone, the Labradors, long gone.

My entire past is missing,
The changes show up everywhere…
My life is no longer familiar,
I read Willy Nelson’s cut his hair.

Table Dancer

Retirement often opens doors,
Each discovery a newer chance…
To find unique successful interests,
Where we speak no more “I cant’s”.

Mornings, I park at the ocean,
Life swells in my focused glance…
Afternoons, much more pedestrian,
Enjoying Otis’ table-top tap dance.