16 years

Sequin rattling, jumpy nerves
the tremble before the words
whirring camera racing by
that day is much a blur

parties gather, left and right
split by procession small
(history wiped out by the "Fly")
up in front: one is short, one tall

third floor food, honored guests
golden duster, wagon wheel
tired and happy, take a ride
best feeling I could ever feel

slept so soundly, caught a plane
to celebrate three unions - new
nowadays it's not the same
it's only me and you

the journey has made me who I am
And I would never second guess
if I would ever be anyone else
but forever, your "Gomez"


Happy Anniversary - I love you!

we

we don't have the same fears
we don't have the same thoughts
or dreams
or so it seems

we don't have the same wants
we don't have the same drive
or needs
so it seems

we don't have the same heart
we don't have the same soul
or faith
it seems

we don't have the same strength
we don't share the same love
or pain
or screams

or do we?

are we headed in different directions
on the same journey?
or on a different journey in the same direction?

are we striving for a common goal?
or a goal more common?

do we do what we know?
do we know what we do?

do we?

freelancing

Chicago, shady lawyer - strangled
Souix City, hooker - stabbed
LA, aspiring cokehead actress - OD
New York City, crooked cop - bludgeoned
Quebec, drug dealer - throat cut
Phoenix, mafia turncoat - burned alive
Portland, wife-beating athlete - run over with car

I followed him everywhere, two steps behind
never close enough to stop him, always close enough for the story

I never saw his face, never knew where he stayed
But I knew it was him
In every city
In every town, it was him


I hope the cops don't slow me down,
I might be able to interview him
get the truth about what drives him
why he does it, what he feels

I will catch him and talk to him
I know I can


Kansas City, reporter - tongue cut out

The seconds tick by...

It's hard for me to believe that I have been posting (pretty regularly too, I may add proudly) for a year now. When I started posting here, I wasn't sure if anyone would ever read what I posted. I'm pleased that I have a few loyal readers/commentors and several people that peek in from time to time. When I started I would check my posts every day and get disappointed if no one commented. Today, I'm more relaxed. I still do look for comments and I try my best to reply, but I do not get upset if my comment counter reads zero for a post.

I've been surprised that pieces that I considered some of my best work didn't garner any responses, while other pieces really touched a nerve in readers. Readers have had nothing but nice things to say about my writing. Even if someone had some criticism, I'd listen. I enjoy this very much and I strive to be entertaining, sometimes thought provoking but never dull. My poetry may never amount to anything (like a book, for example), but I hope everyone who stops by enjoys their visit and is inclined to visit again. That is enough reward for me.
Thank you for stopping by and I hope to hear from you.

DayDreamer

Wishful thinking

I've heard you say it before
"What I wouldn't give..."
for something, anything
that you found important

I wonder what you'd do
if that wish could possibly come true
What would you exchange
for the happiness you seek?

I wonder what you'd sacrifice
and how you'd pay the price?
For that defining moment in time;
would that complete your life?

Is there anything so important
that you'd give up part of yourself?
Something so significant
it's above everything else?

I know I cannot do it
it's not the way I live
spending my life saying
"What I wouldn't give...."

I choose to live and dream
instead of wish

In due time

I don't have my 1000 words
or my two pages of text
I don't have a catchy opening
I don't have a clue what comes next

Not a single interesting phrase
or word has garnered my attention
not a singluar useful idea
has come to full fruition

but I won't give up or whine
I won't curse my muse
there are a billion wonderful words
that I could always use

I will be patient
and I will wait out time
for the moment will arrive
and it will be all mine

without a map

where was I
at that moment
when the words found me
rather than I
searching
fruitlessly
for them?

where was I
when the emotion
unleashed, unbridled
broke the surface
and the ice
within?

where was I
when the anger
the love
the fear
and the desire
retreated enough
to see the truth?

where was I
when I put pen
to paper
fingers
to keys
idea
in motion
without fear?

where was I
and how do I return?