3 Short Poems

mirrors reflect who you may be
or who you may pretend to be
but try to turn it upside down

we don't write to learn
we already learned to write
we maybe have reached a total

A lack of words a day
may be a way to pave
a cleaner saner tomorrow

A Barefoot in a Land of Poets

As a barefoot in a land of poets,
I am sufficient to my task;
I stride quicker than asked,
but not always as directed.
My stumbles are not questions,
but possibilities of direction
outside the arrows of choice.
I mostly smile minus my shoes.

Our Newer World

I do not know how to write a poem
in the direct face of crumbling freedom.
This is no reign of an honest Jeroboam
with no one honest to succeed him.

We have people who know freedom
in a tragic world switched on low hum.
We will need a someone to beat a drum.

Someone begin a tattoo on a bongo!

Don't start too fast or too full of you;
seek out a center, a place of peace to go.
We can bongo too! to find the fuller view,
play well, We will love you, and say adieu.

Youthful Memories

Always somewhere to go
always somewhere to be
and suddenly she's there
in the middle of the street,
that someone out of nowhere:
the someone you must meet.
Don't look, she'll think I'm crazy.
The world, suddenly sweet as a daisy
for a moment,
then damn,
up and down the street,
she's gone.
You run into an empty lonesome street,
mindless, still humming the silliest song
for a someone you may never meet.
What the hell! O damn, what the hell!
and you are emptier than a peanut shell.
Always somewhere to be
and always somewhere to go
you're stuck in concrete all alone
in the middle of a street to hell
and you keep singing your stupid song.

if we meet again

I'm off to the horizon but looking back.
We can meet somewhere over there
or maybe go to J.B.'s for pizza and beer
(bring the mushrooms in the paper sack).
But please don't call back, I'll call you.
I have a ton of things that I have to do.