tour de azraelle…

tour de azraelle

the fog
is thickest
at
the beginning
of the journey
like
a warm blanket
of
innocence
concealing
all the perils
that
may be there
so
fear
isn’t
felt
instead
the blindness
fosters
an excitement
for the trip
like
all of childhood
for
one sees
so many
paths
that may be taken
heightening
a sense
of
adventure
into
the unknown
all things then
are
possible
so
a path
is
chosen
and
the ascent
from the valley floor
begins
leaving behind
that childhood blanket
of
innocence
as
the foothills
are reached
the fog begins
to clear
still vision
is impaired
oh on occasion
a strong breeze
like
a sudden death
clears the path
defining for a moment
what lies ahead
however
it is only 
a brief foresight
then the climb
continues
into the haze
of each day
laboring
to rise above the fog
hours like years
seem to pass
before the timberline
has been reached
then
eyes and vision
becomes aware
of
the dangers
on the trail
and
those all around
one marvels then
at the beauty of life
but
feels a sense
of sadness
for
not seeing
what was before
along the journey
but
the climb continues
to the tundra
the grandeur of the trees
now replaced
by barren earth
with only
low-to-ground plants
standing
like tombstones
now the path narrows
there is
no
turning back
no
fog
just
the trails
end

dancing with shadows…

dancing with shadows

those melodies
that
have
set the tempo
of
your life
have
disappeared
into
the
drumbeats
of
time
you
always
off tempo
enjoying
all the missteps
you’ve
made
never regretting
the toes
you
stepped on
it was
just
part of life’s dance
anyway
they
should’ve
never
asked
you to dance
in
the first place
or
held your dreams
so
close
to
their broken hearts
guess
that’s
why
you’ve always
worn
those
steel toed shoes
cuz
all
of life
is
a construction zone
one
never knows
when
the sky
will fall
crushing
the tips
of
your tomorrows
by the way
whatever happened
to
all
those old dance cards
you held
seems
you were deserted
on
the dance floor
no one
to
hold
or
dream about
guess
that’s what happens
when you
happily prefer
dancing
to
the off beat

 

 

antitoxin…

antitoxin

club’s
well short
of
a quorum
just
a few old jazzers
with
hearts
pulsating
to
piano notes
no one
but
the musicians
on
stage
seems
to notice
the lack
of
patrons
all that matters
to
the old jazzers
is
the music
the antidote
to
the world outside
it’s
been that way
forever
it seems
music
counteracting
the poison
of
the world
releasing
a flood
of
sweet memories
with
just
a few chords
and
notes

dropping the ball…

dropping the ball

the old pastor
approached
the young man
after
hearing him
berate
a teenage parishioner
who
had 
dropped
a fly ball
spinning around
this novice
of
life
yelled
don’t tell me
how to coach
old man
smiling
the gray haired
parson
said
i wasn’t trying to
i was
hoping to
teach you
how
to think

on the occasion of your birthday…

on the occasion of your birthday

love’s
now
forgotten
laughter
a mere
memory
family
the battleground
for
lies
the
person
now
sadly
just
a
name
on
a faded
birth certificate
with
no remembrance
of
the
truth

 

 

disquieted and distressed…

disquieted and distressed

honey
if
you want
to
get it right
in
the night
don’t go talking
’bout
what’s wrong 
in
the world
or
whose done
you wrong
at
some point
in
your life
or
who
you’re
gonna worry
’bout next
just
empty
that worry bin
and
see
and
touch
your lover