These Were the Days

these were the days

a walk through the park to find school

where you did not look like me and that was cool

when a cross is what you wore

how being poor meant you want…needed…more

hatred was a myth and true love was not a choice of sides

living in a rural community came with a deep sense of pride

Nixon had been a joke

our leaders were encourage to enhance hope

these were the days where my peers had a right to be wrong

when constriction left quickly but humbly asked to belong

all eyes were open to all colors

there were three channels and nothing on

these were the days when information did not make me cry

where believing had not left me wondering a collective why

when violence had not been given a side

No photo description available.

38 Years Ago Today!

HELP…John!  With all this gun rage, fake news, presidential controversy, hate…I saw little in the daily media about…an issue we battle;

Mental Health and guns!

Well don’t you know that happiness (happiness) is a warm gun, (is a warm gun, yeah).##John Lennon



Young Love

Even if my air were shattered…a since of completeness puts me at ease.

To travel this journey of tightropes…and, understand I do not venture alone.

Had I not taken a walk…

barren footpaths with little pride.

Had I not fallen from side to side.

Would I have recognized what it means to…

‘grow old together.’

All the senses aroused by parallel courage.

The malice of well-traveled storms.

The bite of absorbent winds.

Ridges of our life together.

An hour-glass of sunny sides to the streets.

Dark and doubtful mornings.

An hour’s glass of every conceivable element strewn in our path.

How slight the moments…

How slight every forever…

How deliberate the time…as we, grow old together.



living is easy

no red wall.

no red button free-fall.

lives mattered without malice

without protocol

all lived by what appeared to be simple means

ranches, capes, basic joists

dreaming the American dream

nothing trite about what we understood

we had more than most

most did not give would they could

saving the earth by way of the dime bag

no pale ale

just bong hits and bonfires

redemption found when a dollar had been given

on Sundays as a basket passed

too young to understand Nixon

old enough to mourn John

we were discovering Lady Chatterlay’s Lover

our bodies were ourselves

living among bathtub Mary’s and American flags on the front lawn

set in stones that were thrown

‘you were right…or, you were wrong’

i can remember hearing of Elvis

where he was

how he had been found

to my young mind i pondered…

‘how quickly life can be upstaged without a sound’

This slideshow requires JavaScript.


Plain White…Me

divided-2 divided-4 divided-5

Divided by color?

One forest dissected by all that is man-made.

What other distortions shall come our way?


Never raised in black or white.

With gay or straight.

A city of privilege.

Lay at my heathen’s feet.


All around,

Lennon on vinyl.


torn and worn.

Lay heavily,

like a Bell Jar.

In the back pocket of my tough-skins.

Images of jesus,

four point restrained…ghastly, lastly,

they say,

he began…again.


One could tell,

I didn’t know better.

Know better to hate.

Never a care given…

to who had been on the other side of a handshake.

With years of me…in my wake.

When a stranger’s hand has reached out for help…

it still remains a hand that I should take.