"Sometimes it takes heart to write about a thing, doesn't it? To let that thing out of the room way in the back of your mind and put it up there on the screen?"

– Gerald's Game by Stephen King

In early 2012, while visiting some dear musician friends in Austin – their band, Panic Choir, who I toured with in the ‘90’s, is discussed in detail on My Music page – I was suddenly inspired to write a poem, kind of out of nowhere as I just sat outside admiring the gorgeous weather in my favorite big city, reflecting on our enjoyable, way-overdue reunion. And, as I sat on Kevin and Carol’s patio in the perfect sunshine, worshiping my blue skies, kept company by their sweet Alaskan husky, Kenai, for the first time ever I typed a poem up, liked it (it's the second poem presented below, Dance in Our Song) and something as simple as that began a new art form for me.

Back home, six weeks later, I started my search for more poetry knowledge and I drove over to the University of South Alabama’s highly-respected English Department, where I stumbled onto Dr. Susan Brannan Walker, Alabama’s Pulitzer-nominated Poet Laurette. And she saw something in me that I didn’t know I had as she invited me to begin studying under her both in class and privately when she adopted this strange, old man as her pet student. And Dr. Sue expertly ignited my spirit by opening my mind to new ways of thinking about composing poetry and writing in general. Along with her knowledge, her trusting companionship, constant encouragement, and pushing me hard for excellence, she changed not just my writing, but my life. Today, she has an influence on every single thing I write, as I want to make her proud of believing in me. My time spent studying under Dr. Sue – all free, as she only cared about teasing talents with hard, challenging work – is one that will always deeply affect me both as a writer, and a person, and I will treasure her, forever.

In the years since, I've written all kinds of stuff, where I'm most proud of my Civil War poems. But, the little poem that I wrote while in the mountains, which I start with – like most of my art, it has one of my photos attached to it – is my favorite and most dearest to my heart, as it tells the story of what I'm searching for with all of my artistic and spiritual endeavors: beauty, imagination and peacefulness.

There's a place where angels dare
To clip their wings for fun
To force their feet to feel the wild
To find some peace, and run

There is no hurt to worry wounds
They dance there as they like
Not caring if outsiders think
They're fairy, lark or sprite

I hear it's far, but I don't mind
I've stars to light my path
I'll pack what little I will need
Like joy and love and laughs

I'll leave today and find my way
Up to that sacred place
Where angels twirl against the wind
Untwisting time and fate

Just point my compass where you must
I'll climb the highest peak
And cross emotions deep and rough
To reach The Land of Free

‘Could you help me find this place
Where they all know my heart?
I want to know if heaven exists
But lie to me if not.’

Let us dance naked and call it dream making
Tepidly quaking, while spinning so free
A dirge sung along to a hopeful rebellion
Tasting the waters for the salinity of peace

Let us dance naked, ideas not abandoned
Love is grown wild, swaddling all in the plan
Living made purpose for the least of creations
This manner of life, our respect, it demands

Let us dance naked and show through clear masks
Innocence and knowledge are one and the same
Power and hate, preconceptions burned down
Trusting in thought, letting no one inflame

Let us dance naked with purpose of teaching
No thought of thin ice, chose to skate, we must dare
Thawing the chill of society’s damnation
Warming cold hearts with our love, we must share

Let us dance naked at the precipice of doom
Our balance deciding to give, or give in
An excruciating breath of the mystery and sorrow
Backing, deciding, the depths shall not win

Let us dance clothed, now, with rest found in freedom
Gone all of disease, so our souls be content
Existence made fact with dimension full proving
Knowing the truth how this life should be spent

And, with sullen, yet, whimsical thoughts of escaping
That spur our desires for such rhythms so strong
Our movements set free, lost in no concentration
Let us teach others to dance in our song

I’d like to watch the Sun come up one last time
Feel its warmth, feel its healing, feel its blessing
This final day, it’s all I ask
Take me out early and face me east
Let the glow on my face slowly build
Burning the fog off of darkness
Until its brightness forces tears from these waning eyes
One last time
Take me out there
Let my life set gently with today’s fading light
That’s all I ask
This very last time
Let me follow our star’s passage
Across my treasured blue skies
Then I can pass from this life content
Leaving with today’s sunset
Back to stardust
From whence I came

Sometimes the mirror darkly screams
Of lives gone past and lost
And sometimes the eyes that sees these things
Must pay the future cost

Sometimes a life that shown so sure
Will fade before its reason
And sometimes the eyes that once were pure
Must cry through lonely's season

But sometimes a shine that faded cold
May warm in smile and beam
And sometimes the eyes that once were bold
Can learn to dry and dream

As sometimes the mirror brightly sings
And dims the cracks within
And sometimes the eyes that sees these things
Can show their life again

I'm scared to share my horrors with you
I'm scared to tell you my pain
Don't look surprised
If I'm worried your eyes
Will be drenched with my story’s strain
I'm going to be the bravest I've been
I'm going to finally share
The cost of it all
The whole of my fall
Such a lovely, sordid affair

The clouds are sinister again
Dark infringing on happiness
Rolls in every year
Same time, same conditions
Weather it I must
Survive to type
How else does this story air
If I don’t live to broadcast it
So I’ll shut up and cook the turkey
For this thin family
And we can rise up and celebrate
The downfall of us
Like we do, every holiday

A plutonium-waste storage dome, built to last ten-thousand years, could not keep my shame from irradiating me, as it, along with it's nucleus of guilt, always finds me, hiding pale in the dark, showing me contempt's black hand to hold, leading me back to self-loathing, for I broke a mortal law, according to Kenny's Rules of Order, and I move that I be struck down by me, with myself and I seconding, by submitting a motion for suicide, executed by my brother, with the total body count still unknown, because my infinite hate for mother was louder than my love for him, causing silence, and I've never heard his voice again, giving shame permission, until time passes me from this hell to the next, to scream my name, every second, of every day, calling me back home, where my soul can decay, from the bombardment of me. 

One shot rang out
Two bodies fell
My brother pulled the trigger
Sending us both to hell
He fell quickly
I did not
Shouldering this burden
Until I rot
Yet I'm already dead
From the inside out
It's who I became
When one shot rang out

I've lost all my blood
Except blood I named
Because I shared blood
To remove my blood stains
My blood can not boil
There's no more blood left
You picked at my clots
You bled me to death

At dawn rise'th twinges, small pricks at thy mind
First stirrings off tilter best yet not defined
Dark beating rays burn thin fog off of right
Daybreak sends flash'd dreams on toward the night

Growing in sky, sum starts burning thy head
Noontime excitement of good deeds lay'd dead
Searing in sickness, star starts its de'cent
Shadows sharp'd livid hide key from thy mint

Dark cloaks sanity from thine attack
Letting thy working gray tissue turn black
As moon rises clear, all goodness to die
While tears of damnation flow freely from eye

Low hung black spider web grab'eth for men
Stung cold by poison, thy madness death ends

Motto of the Irish Brigade: "They shall never retreat from the charge of lances"

"I was too scared to be anythin' other'n brave, so I ran right at 'em … I couldn't let the paddys of the 'Third down … I figured I was alright, anyhow, 'cause big Sheehan was beside me … he opened his mouth to yell somethin', and just folded backwards, dead … I ran on through the wheat field, harder, and didn't stop, no matter who fell or screamed, until I couldn't feel my legs no more … the shell musta landed right in front of me, blow'd 'em slap off … Doc Todd says I'm lucky I'm layin' here, alive … I'm not so sure … it smells like spoilt butternuts in this Reb's den … and who'll play the fiddle and sing now that Michael's gone? … 'Across the Irish Sea he swam, Toward Mother's outstretched hand, From sunken ship came broken man, Who dreamed to walk that Gaelic land' … thank you, Father Corby …"

– an unknown, Union soldier from the 63'rd New York Infantry (Irish Brigade), on the evening of Thursday, July 2, 1863, in a Confederate hospital tent on the Chambersburg Pike road, northwest of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

The battle is over
A last cannonball sets
Young men lay stiff
As the fiddler plays

A silence is broken
By the loss sung by Taps
Shovels cry out
As the fiddler plays

The time's not for talking
'Cause death needs its rest, so
Sleep you good men
As the fiddler plays

The Sun will spill blood in the morning
On to the hills, where I go
I can feel its pulse rising
Ready to give courage and death's colors
So I will charge, valiantly
And I will die, valiantly
But, tonight, I'll weep gently
For tomorrow's rise and fall

Note: Inspired by dialog from the movie Gettysburg

It’s the sounds that won’t go away
Though the battlefield might be littered with bodies
Some whole, most not
Frozen, mangled faces of fear lost in the lunacy
It’s the howling of the barely living that won’t go away
I can’t escape the sounds of life gasping its last
Death transforming a mind into madness
Cries transforming a body into a corpse
That never stops ringing in my head
As forgetting the screams is not an option
Guiding me to my own insanity
Dead voices echoing with every footstep I take

“What is this fascination the world has with death?”

– Cider House Rules by John Irving

“Not that it really matters at this point, but the first nuke to go off was built by Iranian terrorists, given to Hamas, and smuggled into Tel Aviv. When that detonated, Israel launched a big one into Tehran, and a tactical one into Gaza City … and there began the domino effect. Next, it was militants in Pakistan sending another to Israel. Of course that meant India flys a couple toward the Pakistanis. Which meant Turkey wasn’t going to lose their opportunity to scatter a few. Now NATO was involved, which brought Russia into this and, well, everyone, everywhere launched …”

– God, on how Earth died

Drawn to the fire
Desiring its heat
Stoking the coals
Stacking it neat

Wanting a burn
Needing a flame
Power to wield
Power to blame

Glare at its core
Grimace a prayer
Searching for help
Is any in there?

Soul's getting cold
Tired of the chill
Touching the blaze
Curing my ills?

Heating too fast
Starting to light
Can't back away
Am I doing right?

Coals split in two
Hot rage escapes
Broken shards show
Mercury's face

For buried within
Is the problem I see
A shattered hand mirror
Reflecting just me.

Compassion begets kindness;
Kindness begets respect;
Respect begets friendship;
Friendship begets love;
Love begets peace;
Peace begets compassion;

Regrets becomes Sorrow;
Sorrow becomes Pain;
Pain becomes Anger;
Anger becomes Destruction;
Destruction becomes Sadness;
Sadness becomes Regrets;

Judgement leads to Greed;
Greed leads to Power;
Power leads to Corruption;
Corruption leads to Hate;
Hate leads to Doom;
Doom leads to Judgement;

Long feather's frill dances 'round atop bone
Straight line to curve waltzing symbol to trait
Tip'd smart in needle, its blood running on
Pulse in stepped trance to the owner's sure gait

Twisted bland fibers culled from life 'n thorn
Skin craftly knitted, splaid bare to create
Scene flat near edges, its readings give norm
Noble announcement rolled fistly in fate

Gallnuts dark crushed run perm' ebony streams
Art-soul confluence weds fact and absurd
Stroked pitch set faithful, its life spent in read
Cap covered wishes loosed wild grow to word

Ardent black stains poet owns thought and hand
Quill, pape' and ink massaged to Master's plan

"I will bury you!" I screamed
“I will bury you all with the power I have!"
I got busy
Picked up a shovel
Found empty graveyard
Went to work digging
     Tap, tap, tap, tap
Lots of deep holes
For those done me wrong
For all these long years
     Blood boiling
     Sweat running
     Tears flying
The first body goes in
     Tap, tap, tap, tap
Covering it completely
Then silent suffocation
As my anger played Taps
Only for me

Picking at the core of my existence I bleed away
A thin survival
Given in to the pain of it all
Of external, more than I can speak
Of internal, more than I can defeat
All way too sharp
For my broken body

Pulling at the core of my existence I tear away
A thin reflection
Shredded by the gravity of it all
Of external, the smallest entrance
Of internal, the largest distance
All way too tough
For my broken mind

Lost at the core of my existence
I pine away
A thin gulp of air
Drowned by the depth of it all
Of external, nowhere to go
Of internal, oceans to go
All way too much
For my broken soul

Time to shut my core down
Dead as it already was

Conjuring verse shown rhythm looses wild the ease of my greatness
Incantations simply stirred morph prose to revered art on command
Pollocked words and worlds show the color of my intellect's bold hue
Letter, verse and rhyme gracefully bound by gravity of talent
Set free to sustain museums of awe, envy and jealousy
Awards nervous for recognition duel to be tattooed my name
Speeches framed in adoration line corridors of acceptance
History fails patience heralding my story, glory and fame

Awakening, drenched in the profuse flop of inadequacy
I submit to the tormentor shielding my words and worlds from view
The assignment, wrapped in the alluring colors of challenge sold
Hiding ineptitude in the origami of fear inside
Staring, laughing, it begs to be pleasured by all attempts undone
Again, I grant audience, this time fooling reason for rhyme
As I palm my challenger's red coin, writing about tails instead
Greatness of effort triumphs mind's demons of insecurity
Erasing that blocker of creation’s shadow, I smile again

It hurts to breathe, always these days, as inhaling and exhaling gives life to pain, pushing agony through to more agony, and back again, a suffering best understood by people in the know, through their own awful experience, of what it feels like to have a glowing-hot ice pick stabbed into their back, with violence and malice intended, a little below their neck, which always feels like broken glass, the very sharp kind, grating against sanity, the very lost kind, and the sharp steel that's hanging out of their ever-worsening wound, oozing excruciation, anxiety and fear, was hooked to high voltage to feel the smoke rise directly from hell's furnace inside … then those people who have experienced that, if any survived, know of my pain.

Offering soul
Shades blue green
Beauty all universe
Growing life's seed
Giving it all away
Mother we need

Brightest in sky
Shades black white
Cratered by gravity
Stepped dreams explored
Big man to rise again
Half way ignored

Perfect each face
Shades show front
Single danced warm orbit
Self crescendo
Spun pole of freedom sets
Watches tempo

Drifting then found
Shades time space
Met through attraction's chance
Gypsy decides
Trip around world begins
Always beside

Rays orbit shield
Shades last first
Next one up light must show
Bright gift to each
Rainbow gives first skin shine
Lit stage bequeathed

Clouds between laugh
Shades rain shine
Spectrum rayvealed to each
Diffuse spot light
Shadows on hallowed ground
Never cause flight

Spinning wills tough
Shades grow see
Balance through living locked
Burled stone and mild
Old hands show crafted age
Nature run wild

Duet in trance
Shades write sing
Grouped to play couple make
Angels lay claim
Together hands are tied
Art song two sang

Matter same form
Shades push pull
Powerful force at work
Harmonic start
No panic choir will sing
Tear them apart

Beauty seen each
Shades vow love
Strength found extended arms
Stronger betrothed
Gave good intentions make
Never drop oath

Future entwined
Shades love love
Gentle please kindly watch
Space gypsies swoon
Time's scarf spills glitter on
Mother and Moon

Ever embrace
Shades two die
Owning part all of us
Heaven reclaim
Zero and Daisy's life
Star dust became

The space between two lies
Lies behind the smile I try
Try my best to hide my pains
Pains me in the strongest way
Way beneath what is real me
Me so unreal I don't feel
Feel so lost I just reel
Reel from the pains that bind
Bind the lies that hide behind all I say and do

Looking back on when he was
a nappy-headed boy,
fingertips beat ivory red,
while heart pumped black maroon.

Slapped and tickled, sang his cry,
harder and louder, in time.
Tears from darkened eyes stained,
in blood, his keys to life.

Toe and ink the dotted line,
his fame, sold suits of black.
Granting wish of spotted stage,
they worried dreams of Mom.

Think he'd lose his head, she did,
and name she loved to sing.
Her fear said no while brown turned red,
love shielding fall from climb.

Harmony-screeched choking sounds,
played through house and her.
Chords banged raw turned cords to raw,
yet not a note of give.

Upright he sat, past thirty hours,
and pedaled staged rebellion.
Not looking in her eyes since when,
he stared down love instead.

Barely stepped past ten, her boy,
not time to light his name.
Lose him to the suits that payed
she feared they would corrupt.

Yet she gave in and gave her ground
and signed his wish to wander
That tantrum played by Stevie boy
gave shine to bright star Wonder.

The lions won't roar
The bears always hide
Trapped in a cage
Of metal and mind

A pace that’s still left
A scene that's not right
Trapped in a cage
Of concrete and fright

A fear that we have
A love lost in blight
Trapped in a cage
Of human's cold might

I just got back from hell
And I'm all hot and crispy
Double-dipped
And slightly charred
Like Mamaw's fried chicken

Einstein solved all the ills of the physical world, and, after, the physical universe was complete. Or so we thought.

gravity + electromagnetism + sum (strong nuclear force+, weak nuclear force-) = 0

What was left out were the mathematical computations that I developed, which solved all issues of the human condition, known simply as My General Theory of Everything. As additional variables were needed.

attraction + repulsion + sum (fate+, chaos-) = 0

Yet when you add up the true powers of the human condition, the final issues become quite clear:

sex + hate + sum (love+, sorrow-) = 0

I want to dream of a Great Dane named Rueben
wearing Spock-ears like a crown;
raising his pups he named Logic and Reason,
to bark “Live long and prosper”,

Maxwell Smart wins a fistfight against James Bond,
marries the blonde Farrah Fawcett,
they in-vitro two girls who become our Co-Presidents,
the Smart twins cure society’s ills,

Alice, the Tweedle's, Hatter and Rabbit
in a rocket called Watership Down,
a crew made of hobbits and Harrison Ford,
with Taco Bell beans as the fuel,

trees bark Metallica, frogs croak some John,
birds tweet out James' “Fire and Rain”,
The Wiggles, Fred Rogers, my buds Ren and Stimpy,
are groovin’ in joy's happy dance,

a good witch named Glenda turns Bellatrix
into a chocolate-frog-booger sandwich,
Snape’s singing Tori to his freed house-elves;
Harry and Voldemort kiss,

Chris Rock as hamster, Eddie as mule,
sit on the U.S. Supreme Court,
making important American laws,
like giving free tickets to Cats,

warp drive on Nike’s so I can beat NASA
racing the rings around Saturn,
with flux capacitors hidden inside my soles
laced up with Silly-String theory,

Homer owns Krispy Kreme, Bart is “Dude”,
Abu writes books on English,
Lisa is melting the nukes of the world
turning them to saxophones,

Roland the Gunslinger boils a lobstrosity
selling the claw on eBay;
his King is not cross-eyed, and with his wife Tabitha,
dances his books on Broadway, 

unlimited helpings of White Castle Sliders
and frosting from Betty Crocker,
eating ManPops, butter-sticks sugar-coated,
made so According to Jim,

I drive a black BMW sports car
at 190+ on the Moon
while jamming to Steely Dan's long hidden album
recorded solely for me,

Florida Citrus and Granny Smith apples,
married by cute Betty White
as the Fig Newton song is sung by Chiquita
backed up by Animal’s drums,

The Weather Channel wants me for a host,
dressed up as Admiral Adama,
a Reading Rainbow I make for the sky
and part the clouds for Apollo,

Wink-Wink-Nudge-Nudge is a board game from Bradley,
the loser must bring out the dead;
Jamie's still sexy, picks me over Cleese,
naming her fish "K.D. Wang",

Snoopy’s my wingman as we fly Top Gun,
dropping Pop Tarts and love bombs,
I write my poetry with smoke from the tail,
landing to hug Aliens,

Hairy dorf women with Bedazzled beards
helping me slay the Lich King,
riding on Puff, with airbags turned off,
toasting Marshmallows on breath,

Fruit of the Loom, wearing red and white Converse,
pierces both Pink Panther's ears,
while GrapeApe swings deftly from dreadlocks to nose-rings
belting out songs by Pearl Jam,

Our political parties are Larry and Moe,
we vote in Superman's booth,
I do the Curly in the Oval Office,
on Congress a Batman "K-Pow!#", 

Tony the Tiger cooks blueberry Eggo's,
serves me my breakfast in bed;
I'm wearing a Coozy made of lunar cells
powering Earth in my sleep,

I drive a ClubCar and wear Slash's hair,
a player's hot wife by my side,
my Taylor-Made swing wins me a green jacket
sewn from the grass on 18,

Robots who speak with a rich British accent
creating new BBC shows
about Doc Herriot over-clocking the horses
while RAM sticks run free in Yorkshire,

glass-bottled Barqs-Coca-Cola is made,
Twinkies filled only with hope,
Paula-Dean-buttered-up-McDonald's french fries,
and kind-flavored Jello deserts,

an X-Box that levels Black Ops while I sleep
with just two prestiges to go,
playing old Zelda games in BubbleBath,
I never drop my Nintendo,

Doc Oz cures Wonder so he can win Indy,
in a Hot Wheels Lamborghini
and Hawking so he gets the pole at Daytona
wheeling his Porsche FTL,

Eskimo Pies thrown by Eskimo spies
save us from polar-cap melting,
cola Icee’s wash away carbon footprints,
CO2 by Hurricanes,

Tigger as “Number One” leads the away teams,
Piglet is manning the con,
Owl screeches out "Beam me up, Eeyore!"
as Pooh replicates honey jars,

and as Hagrid protects me with his belly laugh,
and Dumbledore hands me my cloak,
I pull out the Elder Wand, flicking my wrist,
peace and love spraying from it.