Itinerant Itinerary

Pack what you need,
We leave tonight…
To hop the train,
You travel light.

The boxcar’s cold,
Wear thick jeans,
Hide your bills
Inside the seams.

Heed the whistle,
Don’t miss the ride,
Hang on tight,
Lay low to hide.

A one way ticket,
Destination: Roam.
The closest to heaven,
The farthest from home.

Praise

A "hands raised" hallelujah chorus, The hobo’s signature on a train… Graffiti by a skateboarder! All celebrate humanity’s reign. Technological advances, Music written from a higher plain… These achievements make me choke up; wanting to live this life again. Dedicated to Bozo Texino. RIP while rolling, forever rolling  free.

Roma

The oppressed in the world,
Live invisibly, without a name,
Music, their soul and legacy;
The Roma, in Carpathia, Ukraine.

Survival lies within their fingers,
Plucking guitars, or sleight of hand…
Hope lies in their dreams escaping
Prejudice and their homeland.

Hope lives in wearing bright colors,
Preserving their culture in song,
Thinking more of living each day,
Than the people doing them wrong.

They live in my bathroom curtains,
The lace in my window sill,
Bought in the tribal campground,
Where grandmas are tatting still.

The Single Perfectionist

I spent my life too critical;
“Not cute enough, too small a home”…
Their failures to command my presence,
Left me understandably alone.

Blue eyes, black hair required;
Sense of humor is a must…
A scholar of every subject,
The defender of all laws just.

Fortunately my best companion,
Is a dog who did not see,
Any of these requirements,
When he fell in love with me.

My Addictions

I’m addicted to obituaries,
Although I can’t explain just why…
Perhaps I am seeking mentors,
For learning how to say goodbye.

Cryptic secrets, some are heart attacks,
Cancers, strokes, car wrecks, or worse…
There is comfort in the knowledge,
Others will have journeyed first.

Townes, your message reached me,
While letting alcohol guide your hand …
There are no more addictions,
Promise me, in the Promised Land.

Running Backwards

I threw out anchors daily,
Dragged my feet to make fun last;
Creating my own safety zone,
Where time didn’t move too fast.

I see the world changing now,
Trying to sort it all through words…
My old roads becoming dead ends,
I’m running faster, but backwards.

The Light Within

People think they know me,
Seeing all my segments as a whole…
But I’m too deep and bifurcated,
To witness my own reclusive soul.

I used to think I knew myself,
After sixty years of age…
A most incredible, quiet peace
Colliding with violent rage.

I used to think god knew me,
I was the liberal non believer…
Now daily praying to nothing,
Who or what is the real deceiver?

Gone, the world means nothing,
I live, standing alone, I am…
The one defying life’s defeats,
Shouting in your face, “I can”.

A Mountain Christmas Tale

Not so many years ago,
A very lazy man and his wife,
Decided they hated having jobs
So they ran from civilized life.

They found an abandoned cabin
In a valley edging the woods,
Both swearing to never work again,
Or rely on consumer goods.

He carved for her on Christmas,
A beautiful prairie pheasant.
She wove for him a pine needle hat;
Neither bothered to open their present.

Too lazy to saw a Christmas tree
They pulled sprouts out by the roots,
Planting a tree in every room,
In dirt filled, old leather boots.

The husband was too lazy to hunt,
The wife too lazy to clean,
Their house fell into disrepair,
As they both grew weak and lean.

Just two short days before New Year’s,
He succumbed to an untreated rash,
Just prior to her fatal concussion,
After slipping on a pile of trash.

Leaks in the unfixed shingles,
Gently watered each growing tree.
Soon after the mossy roof gave way,
Setting the Christmas trees free.