Drought

A baby is born.

A tear comes to eye.

When this one’s my age

the world will be dry

yet swollen seas

pound mountain shores.

Great cities will lie

on ocean floors.

The greedy refined

will run rampant then.

For a glass of water

they’ll kill a friend.

Corpses in the surf.

Decay everywhere.

At the foot of an angel

I grimace and stare.

Roses 

Roses and memories

of smooth inner thighs

parting with promises

misunderstood.

Velvety petals

wind caught and gone.

Leaving a fragrance 

of something lost.

Thorny spines 

grabbed in haste. 

Pain and flowing

rose bloody red.

The Traveler

It’s always best

to shed the weight

of doubts induced

accumulate

and inflate

the laden pack,

bending the straight

and rigid back,

brittle with age,

hardened by fire,

miles to go

must not tire

blistered feet

on a dusty road

where time is worth

more than gold.

Freedom

I held freedom

in my hand,

like a glowing orb

it shone,

in the middle 

of nowhere

I stood alone.

Now what? I wondered 

and the orb vanished

when I took a step

then reappeared

when I stepped back.

I was finally free

but hungry, cold,

forgotten and alone

and all that time

the orb brightly shone.

by Dave

A Road Poem

I think god thinks

in verse and rhyme

and we draw close

in psalm and poem

and together walk

in prophetic stride

and leave behind

the ones who lied

and said they loved

but loved not.

Claimed they’d help

but soon forgot.

Preached forgiveness

but never forgave

and promised freedom

but then enslaved

a whole world.

Soon a distant sight.

On the road again

and into the light.

by Dave

The Front Line

In a muddy trench

my enemy breathes

the hurried breath.

Hearts pounding,

awareness too quick,

no time to fear

or even get sick.

What he feels about me

I feel about him

but right’s on my side

I think to myself

as he thinks the same

to his righteous self.

Four eyes revere 

a neutral sky.

The dice are thrown.

A life will die.

Every bit as full

and valid you see

and I’m just thankful

it wasn’t me.

by Dave

Cultural Decline

Narcissistic is all

that comes to mind.

A virtue most high

in this day in time.

Artsy and equal

with greed and lust.

The acceptable way

we grind to dust

the definitive walls

of cultural stone.

Set by the ancients

on powdered bone.

by Dave

The Old Fool

He has so little

and what little he has

disappears fast

or just slips away.

His method’s outdated,

he calls it old school

and there’s really no fool

like a old fool

sitting patiently

for the end of a thing

that never quite arrives

but he’ll still sing

of another glorious

date to behold

and say what he knows

he was only told

by powers greater,

beyond the sky

who’s only real power

is the power to lie

but that’s okay,

just listen to him sing

for in a world of idiots

the fool is king.

written by Dave

Evergreen 

You have seen

with no eyes

the turn of tides

a century long

and you have felt

with no skin

the soft caress

of a gentle wind

and you’ve heard

with no ears

your brothers fall

beyond trail’s end

and you have smelt

without a nose

the smoky clouds

of your own demise.

The New Kind

War and terrorism

breed a new kind

of harden heart 

through the land

as seniors hide

the cunning blows

upon foundations

which they rely

and babies cry

for mother’s milk

replacing all

they ever knew

and a starched collar

binds the neck

that neither turns

to faith or love.

by Dave   

4/18/2011 

Crookinshank

‘Whole life’s are spent working to devise a plan that will help us get all the way through it and all the while this wonderful world works to devise it’s own plan against it.’

Old Crookinshank couldn’t work.  Disabled in a forgotten war.  So he took his $300 a month disability check and built a mule-drawn covered wagon upon a old trailer axel he’d found.  Bought a mule and traveled forgotten highways from state to state.

I met him in ‘01’ while broke down in a campground in western Colorado.  We drank some beers over a campfire and discussed many things.  He said his biggest worry in life was 18 wheelers barreling by and impatient drivers honking and flipping him off.  He said it scared his mule and a runaway mule usually meant he’d end up stuck in a ditch or turned over.  I said my biggest worry was my broke down car and not knowing what to do or where to go.  He advised me to buy a mule to tow the car and follow him over the Unita Mountains to the coast where I could get a job as a fisherman.  I laughed but he was serious.

The next morning he got kicked out of the campground for not paying the nightly fee.  I waved goodbye and later got my car running, found my own way but occasionally I wonder what would of happened if I had followed his advice.