Friday, September 07, 2007


The frail man
Has become
The slave
Of the American drug addicts
Those opportunistic
And ugly maidens
With narcotic teeth

Poor thing
He lives with a dilemma
He let them enter
Into his crystal house
Even the towers
Were not able to bear
Such liability
Such weight
Such affliction

Not even his time
As a state policeman
Will help him now

It might be worse
If I smile and say hello
Perhaps as detrimental
As if I decided to remain silent
With a cold face
With an unfriendly glare

Tuesday, September 04, 2007


The ocean looks
Like a painting tonight
The heat blends colors

The most beautiful thing
Is to watch children play
In shallow waters

The setting
Of the sun
Is always the
Perfect background

The frail man
Has lost his sand dunes
His comfortable cushions
His attractive resting place
His body is drying out

Solar flares
Keep arriving
Sun—eyed parachutes

The frail man
Has become a
Vulnerable landlord
Target of the elements

His friendly gestures
While driving
The red explorer
Are a surreal mixture
Last efforts
From the
Patron of futility
In the game of survival


Bad news
Are good news
Is good & bad
The majority of life
Is both
Good & bad

The Gospel
Is good news
But if you
Turn down
An invitation
You may disappear

The good
And the bad
Are invited
But make sure
You dress to kill
Because if you do not
They bind your
Hands & feet
Like cowboys
At the rodeo
Then they’ll make you
Grind your teeth

What a weeding!
Those angels
Really know
Heavy work