Cedar Wood Courts, me

Cedar Wood Courts, me

Cedar Wood Courts, Me
Cedar Wood Courts, Me
Cedar Wood Courts, Me
Cedar Wood Courts, Me
Cedar Wood Courts, Me
Cedar Wood Courts, Me

A memory jogged itself free.

It had been Cedar Wood Court…

a family of flashes absconded with the longest day of the year.

You are after all, old Irish, dear.

The hide and seek…whiskey laced

A game of our Father falling from grace.

Cedars lined in a suburban roe

a piece of country amongst

urban down-low.

An isle of make believe

A day trip tuned in to…

indignant baritones housed in Mother’s shoe.

Loaded guns, stolen Winston’s and relapse debris…

Hangin’ from the memories of Cedar trees.

One for you

Two for me.

Walkin’ the dog, climbing the trees…

Cedar Wood court…

Wooded asphalt

Childish, isn’t it?

To want to believe.

Things That We Believe In

Poems, Prayers and Promises
John Denver


I’ve been lately thinking about my life’s time
All the things I’ve done and how it’s been
And I can’t help believin’ in my own mind
I know I’m gonna hate to see it end
I’ve seen a lot of sunshine, slept out in the rain
Spent a night or two all on my own
I’ve known my lady’s pleasures
Had myself some friends
And spent a time or two in my own home

I have to say it now it’s been a good life all in all
It’s really fine to have a chance to hang around
And lie there by the fire and watch the evenin’ tire
While all friends and my old lady
Sit and pass a pipe around
And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long it’s been since yesterday
What about tomorrow
What about our dreams

And all the memories we share

The days they pass so quickly now
The nights are seldom long
And time around me whispers when it’s cold
The changes somehow frighten me, still I have to smile
It turns me on to think of growin’ old
For though the life’s been good to me
There’s still so much to do
So many things my mind has never known

I’d like to raise a family, I’d like to sail away
And dance across the mountains on the moon

And I have to say it now it’s been a good life all in all
It’s really fine to have a chance to hang around
And lie there by the fire and watch the evenin’ tire
Along with friends and my old lady
Sit and pass a pipe around
And talk of poems and prayers and promises
And things that we believe in
How sweet it is to love someone
How right it is to care
How long it’s been since yesterday
What about tomorrow
What about our dreams
And all the memories we share

Do I Give In

I am exhausted from exhaustion

My mind is a fishbowl with too many inhabitants

Do I give in and enjoy a lazy lane

Drape my weary and swollen toes in the icy waters of autumn

I have shed so many diseased tears over an empty couch

so many fears over the days I could embrace

The chills that swaddled from summer’s heat

Friends and fiction and my permenent host

I am exhausted from exhaustion

There is hesitation to my mornings

Disdain for golden leaves falling distant dreams

Normal is not quite what it seems

#longhauler

My Nation Used to…

My Nation used to…
hold my hand against monsters that went bump in the night
She used to…
uplift my adolescent dreams of deciding what is wrong, what is right
My Nation used to applaud strangers
and allow them into our fight
In moments such as these…
darkened by self imposed dread
I had been raised to rally upon character
I had been taught to only bring enough food for everyone
to share, to share, to share.

My Nation used to…
not fear the shadows but embrace the light
She used to…
promote my speech and demote the placard might
Within the consoles of a closet…I could put my thoughts in a box
And,
my Nation used to rally me to fight, fight, fight

Guilty as Charged

guilt-2

To castaway…

The sweats.

The shakes.

Take long morning walks.

One sided talks.

And,

it is not the toll of death…that bring forth the tears.

Nor,

the let’s make pretend and forget…years.

 

Why is it the fractured limb…seems always the last to fall?

Why is it the large than life…pray on the smaller than small?

 

This life of…walking and rolling with the punches…

This feel of…your self motivating guilt…has lost it’s usefulness.

 

I can no longer take hand me down trips.

I may have been bred sick.

But I can choose to not live in your illness.

That is my prayer…as your god is my witness.