Keyboard Troll



They put on a cloak at work
To hide from the nine to five
A different one designed for friends
Just to prove that they’re alive
Whenever they are wherever they go
An assortment of cloaks appear
To hide from everyone else around
And cover up their sneers
But the darkest cloak they own
Is the one they don when home alone
To hide them from the one true view
Their own reflection on a screen of blue
When they get behind their keyboard
The veils of deception fall away
Their true selves surf the webbing trap
In camouflaged search of prey
Maybe they search like predators
On the unsuspecting young at play
Maybe they scour political bullshit
To capture a validation of what they say
Their lonely eyes view their lives
From the vision of many strangers
Unaware of who gets hurt
Unaware that they’re the dangers
Infecting a teenager
Just to engage her
But the strange changer robs the manger
With his misconception as a re-arranger
Displaced perception
Wearing a cloak of deception
But he must complete a task
He pulls away his mask
Takes a long hit from his flask
To take us on his ride
The stranger is the troll in cloaked disguise
Sick and demented deep inside
But he can’t hide
He’ll never stay
If we rip the sheep clothing off his back
And lock his ass away

What Day Was That

what day



Running across the yard
Swinging on a cloud
Skinned my knees
While laughing out loud
Bee stings and baby weeps
See saws and bedside creeps
Lost inside an empty crowd
Underneath a storm filled cloud
Minutes to spare and hours to burn
Battles to be fought
Lessons to be learned
Never a concern
Except Mom and Dad
What we needed they had
Before time walked me home
Made me go it alone
And childhood left me flat
What day was that

She had long silken curls
I was noticing girls
We were all having fun
In search of “the one”
Holding hands on the beach
Heart screaming uptempo
Thumping beats of promise
Seeds of passion were growing

With loves flame a aglow
A life everlasting
Two teen hearts broadcasting
True love forever
Initials in a tree
Etched for ever in eternity
Before time turned and spat
Spat in my face
What day was that



Couldn’t wait to grow up
Find the answers I need
But as age rolls downhill
It gathers much speed
Time offers not wisdom
But makes us it’s victim
Fueled on fruitless pride
On a mindless blind ride
Like a peacock I preened
Success was my insanity
The peak of my own vanity
Until time got angry
Focused its wrath on me
Much too conspicuously
Cutting furrows in my brow
Who needs a body anyhow
Crippling my emotions
Erasing my devotions
All the lines in my eyes
Stained in tears that I cried
Now even the mirror won’t lie
In a flash old age arrived
Leaving just memories inside
With a sarcastic smile
Time tipped it’s hat……..
What day was that

A Backpack of Regrets



Gotta keep moving
But its hard to run
When your burdened
With your past
Across your back
But I run away
Its what I always do
Stuff my backpack
With another regret
Hop on the rail
Count the miles
As they pass by
Consuming time
Finding aches
Until the time arrives
To run again
Ride on the sunsets
Glide on sunrises
Maybe its time to choose
One final station
Get off the train
And sleep

Gun Lobby Oddity (A parody Of A Space Oddity)




Gun control to Major Tom
Gun control to Major Tom
Put your riffle down and put the safety on
Gun control to Major Tom

This is gun control to major tom
You’ve really been well paid
And the papers want to know how much you care
But its time to pass legislation if you dare
This is gun control to major tom
I’m asking for some laws
But your waffling in a most peculiar way
The guns on the street look different today
And here you are sitting in an ivory tower
Far above the world
And the earth looks crimson red
And the gun lobbies are overfed
Though we’ve tried one hundred thousand times
I’m feeling very ill
And I think we all now which way this should go
Tell the children that you love them
They should know
Gun control to major tom
There are children dead, there’s something wrong
Can you hear us major tom
Can you here us major tom
Can you hear us major tom
Can you hear, we’re all crying in a tin can
Outside the funeral homes
Everyone feels blue
But there’s something you can do

Gun control to Major Tom…. I understand you feel your right to own a gun is absolute but seriously, the amount of guns available is out of control. Middle school kids are carrying. We don’t want to take away your guns, we just want to take away some of the insanity that has infiltrated our communities because of your support of inaction. Think it through. The blood is now on your hands…

World Humanitarian Day, Pay It Forward

a world



Today is a day to recognize Humanitarian workers around the world, so what could be more of an honor than to help their altruistic compassion become infectious by paying it forward…….

There are many ways to pay it forward, not everyone who has experiences a string of bad luck are looking for a handout, feeling the world owes them something. Some people simply want someone, anyone, to listen to their saga, free of judgment, and lend an empathetic ear, maybe share a cup of coffee. I came across such an encounter upon a trip to LA a few years ago.

LA is not a place to be without a car but that’s how we found ourselves, in a hotel on Sepulveda Blvd doing a PR event at the Emmy’s. The hotel was very nice, like most in LA and it had all the amenities you would hope for. But we are never happy just soaking up the luxuries a hotel has to offer, we prefer to experience LA from the ground up which we quickly learned meant sprinting across intersections when the walk sign was lit because it began blinking don’t walk about three seconds after it came on. Crossing the roads were what I imagine it would be like crossing the Indy 500 with six lanes of traffic and drivers poised at their accelerators. What the Hell, you only live once or perhaps only die once crossing LA traffic, but we did want to have some breakfast somewhere away from the hotel where the normal, or actually abnormal Los Angelians had breakfast. We took our chances.

As we began our journey our first encounter was of a man in a bowler style hat, a tattered suit coat, and tattered pants sleeping on the grass just off the sidewalk. We bent down and asked him if he was okay and he just smiled and said, “Oh yea, everything is fine.” He then rolled over and went back to sleep. Being New Yorkers we were quite accustomed to this type of encounter but none the less thought it best to check on him. He seemed okay, perhaps a bit sleepy but he wasn’t hurting anyone and was cautious to be off the sidewalk. IN New York City walking is just what you do, not traveling hidden in cars and we walked just about anywhere and everywhere we wanted so we trudged on for an LA experience. We found a quaint little café, had breakfast, and people watched for about an hour.

Wanting to completely absorb the culture we just walked around observing, no where to go and nothing special to do. The sun was beginning to wake up in all it’s majesty I assume after consuming a Grande cup of solar coffee and was now beating down hard making it very hot. We stopped off and got some water then continued our walking tour of who knows where Los Angeles. Maureen wanted another tea so we stopped of at a sort of LA Starbucks. While she got a tea I got another water and went outside to soak up the local atmosphere.

The very first person I saw was the now wide away sleeping man we had encountered earlier, whose name I found out was Benjamin. I ventured over and asked how he was doing. I passed him my water not like some high and mighty savior but just as I would to a friend I came across. He accepted and thanked me and to my surprise he offered far more conversation than I had expected, telling me of his trials and tribulations back home in Indiana some thirty five years ago, and how he had come to LA hoping to make it in films. He began as a film runner, running films from one studio to another in the hopes of being discovered but he never was. Then a downsizing left him jobless. He was living in an SRO, or Single Room Occupancy hotel which was hard enough, but six months after losing his job and trying desperately to get work doing anything he was evicted. He spent one night in a shelter and woke up with nothing but the clothes he slept in because in the night someone or ones poached all his meager positions save for his bowler which he wears proudly to this day.
He finished the water then continued his story. Not being able to put on a clean shirt and pants made his interviewing harder and less likely until it got to the point that the smell of his dirty clothes prevented him from even getting to the interview stage. He eventually gave up and was now homeless and penniless in Los Angeles, he panhandled a bit, sang for coins, was willing to any job, but without the luxury of a bed, alarm clock, and shower it was difficult. To me those things were just a normal part of life, one of the many things I take for granted that are luxuries to Benjamin. Even without what most of us consider the basics of everyday life his attitude was amazing. He didn’t whine although he did at times seem unhappily nostalgic, and he wasn’t looking for sympathy, just a friend to talk to for a little while. I became that friend. Ten or twenty minutes of my time, a few seconds mili-seconds in the scheme of life meant a lot to Benjamin. He was happy just to share a bottle of water and some company.

Benjamin never asked me for any money. Maureen came over with a muffin she bought for me and without missing a beat offered it to Benjamin instead. His eyes said everything that needed to be said. The fact that two strangers took the time to listen to his story and offered him something without his asking lit a fire of gratitude in his eyes. Before he left us he gave us the rundown of the area, which area’s were safe, which were shady, and which section was known for shoot outs like the one last night. He gave us a five minute tour of this section of LA and then thanked us to go about his daily business, with a big smile on his face. I distracted him while Maureen slipped a ten dollar bill in his dirty suit coat pocket, and maybe he’ll buy something to eat or maybe he’ll buy some alcohol, I really don’t think it matters because with all the life bullshit he has encountered he deserves a little of both. I won’t judge and I hope you won’t either.

The real point is this, we can walk past those in need, I have, we can close our eyes and pretend they don’t exist, I have, we can pass judgment and decide they were probably always worthless and lazy, or we can bring them a muffin, or a hamburger, maybe a drink, or maybe even sacrifice a few moments from our luxurious busy lives to lend an ear and hear their story. Remember, many of those homeless are Vets, so don’t go waving your flag and carrying on about how big a patriot you are because you post I support our troops memes on social media, do something to help. Actions speak louder than words. And thank you to all the selfless humanitarians around the world. PEACE

I’m Free (Death Stands Naked)

naked death


They find rest as they lie in death…. Isaiah 57:2

Death stood naked
In the evening wind
Laughing in denial
Of nefarious intent
Whispering promises
Cloaked in satin sheets
My face in amusement
As I smile broadly
Reminiscing a sexual tango
Twixt the bee and the flower
Tempting flora aroma’s
Bright colored enticements
Genitalia between petals
Singing sensual to the insects
The salacious dance
Of life everlasting
Carnal enlightenment
As Death disappeared
An angel stood naked
In the glow of sunrise
Laughing happily in denial
Of her voluptuous intent
Alley cats shrieking
In agonizing pleasure
While inside my head
My previous partners
Moaning in unison
Sensual memories
Distracting my attentions
While Death creeps low
In the dark underbrush


Now Death stands naked
Dark in my doorway
Anticipating the collection
Of all my yesterdays
As well as the denial
Of my tomorrows
Screaming all around
In deafening silence
Ever so explosive
Yet never reaching mine ear
In surreptitious slight of hand
Death hath wrapped his arms
Tightly around my heart
Leading me to the sacrificial stone
Like the son of Abraham
I the wandering lamb
Of the flock of the lost
Knelt sadly alone
Until the angel returned
Humming soft rhythms
Unearthing the secrets
Of my innocence lost
She smiles so warmly
An act of comforting
Cradled me to her breast
Soft pillows of compassion
A distant echoing beat soothes me
Her song of days gone by
Come inside my love
All evil will cease to exist
Take my hand
Let me guide you
To your freedom
And a light glowed from where no sun dare to shine
That’s when it became clear to me
I’m free
Live and Love in Peace





I’ve known joy, elation, and glee
I’ve known grief, rage, and pain
I’ve cried in a thunderstorm
Sang and danced in the rain
They’re just reflections of my perceptions
Or maybe a collective of misconceptions

What is Pleasure but
Desires reaped
From joys sown
A song unbound
Waiting to be sung
With totality of heart
The harvest of jubilation
From seeds of serenity
Rising of new days
Dances of excitement
Unbreakable smiles
Basking freely in
The Absence of sorrow
The desertion of pain


What is Pain but
The unmasking of joy
Disrobing of contentment
Standing alone
Emotionally naked
Void of élan
A fallen tree cries
But no one hears
Save its homeless residents
A blind man wails
Unable to resolve
The mystery of sight
An abused child quits
Unable to resolve
The mystery of night
A foreboding tale
Of love not met
Drenched in regret

What is Regret but
Chastisement of self
Over performance pernicious
Castigation blurred in fog
The haze of poor choice
Perhaps of inebriation
Of mind or soul
Self flagellation
Unable to forgive
Your own heart
For betraying it’s secrets
To a well of guilt’s
Which quenches no thirst
A lesson learned
Not a burden to the wind
But a winged flight
To a better future
Time offers perspective
Accept it