Back in the Wind

The draw upon me heavy as I've tossed my wandering ways
For years I've cast myself happily, as a normal man and stayed

This day I do confess myself a traveler once again
Yet not a man the same, as the man I was back then

The wind has nigh stopped calling me to it's own path and cry
Yet upon it's beacon do I return anew toward my own path of day and night

Yes I have returned to my place upon the breeze
But now I have a shelter, a home of which I need

Here upon the highways may now myself be found
But as I travel on, it's to my family am I bound

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I found me!

I found me today. I was hiding out in the shop and had gotten careless. I forgot to lock the door.

Well, in I walk thinking "self, why would the door be open if I wasn't in here hiding from me", and sure enough, there I was, right beside the neighbor's chevy truck I've been working on. Not only did I find me, but I found me working on my neighbor's truck without me being there! That could have been disastrous!

Wouldn't ya know that as soon as I saw that I had found me and that I was busted for working on my neighbor's truck without me there, out the open window I went. Oh well, I've been chasing me for years, but I'm getting closer to catching me!

I locked up the shop and all of the vehicles, so unless I like sleeping in the rain, I'll have to sneak back inside at some point or anther. I figure I'm just waiting until I see that the lights are off and I'm certain that I'm in bed before I sneak in.

Little do I know that I've got the entry alert turned on and I'll hear me sneak in!

Who Are We

I am modern man

I who can but with the touch of a button
Command a machine to do or display my bidding

I am modern man

I who can look solemnly upon the results
Of my depressing of buttons and call it great work

I am modern man

I who can distort the works of another
Into the absurdity of my self and call it art

I am modern man

I who can revel in my own splendor
And assume of it much and great meaning

I am modern man

I who live upon the land and am little of it
Or it's grandeur as it holds no meaning to my life

I am modern man

I who know I can change the world
But to hold so much money to do so

I am modern man

I who have forgotten the glory of love
And know nothing of it's greater meaning or grace

I am modern man

I who drive and travel in mechanical marvels
That I have no care to desire to understand or maintain

I am modern man

I who live in sturdy shelter made of the land's great bounty
And care not to know how to repair or uphold it's structure

I am modern man

I who take the work of the farmer and his labor of the soil
But do not see his value and would rather complain of it

I am modern man

I who seek not happiness for the warmth of another
And seek endlessly for my own happiness in the moment

I am modern man

I who am far above the history of my own
And yet constantly repeat it's mistakes

I am modern man

I who deserve all that the few have worked hard to have
And demand it be mine of my own merit and might

I am modern man

I who am worthy of all and have right to more
And shall achieve it by force, fear and number

I am modern man

I who bear the mark, not for what it means
But for the fact that it upon me is proof of my personal might

I am modern man

I can not be flawed

I am modern man

I can not be wrong

I am modern man

I can ignore proof of fact

I am modern man

I can KNOW truth of theory

I am modern man

Theory makes it real

I am modern man

I have no growl of my own

I am modern man

Hear me fade

Heartfelt (titled by R. Jones)

This night one and little more
But grand as all in so many before

The night as it calls leaves song in our ears
Yet the music still stands as lite finds us here

Be peaceful the night that leaves you to rest
Be long the joys of life at it's best

Let not the night pass the heart by
For tomorrow will come without even a sigh

Ever the Reader

Random thoughts and racing wonders
Here are what I find in print
Glorious dreams and grander places
I might well find though not quite meant

Tell me your tale and I'll hear all your say
Grant me your story and I'll meet you in turn
Show me your world and I'll gladly then see
Teach me your way and I'll take time to learn

Paint me your picture that I might take in it's view
Give it the shadows of your own vision's rights
Give it the light of what you know to be bright
Paint it in full, in both day and in night

Fear not my thoughts of what your story is
For in truth it is precious as it can be only yours
Worry not my response to your painting style
For in fact it is joy as it is a sharing of doors

Nameless Memories

In strangest places, often nameless faces
Does laughter find company in new friends
Gasping lungs of laughter's oddest paces
Find little purchase on the air of rooms and winds

Still funny so and such it is
But laughter needs a home
As easy as it flows and lives
It cannot live alone

Nor with one soul will it thrive
Neither little or at all
But in good company it abides
Quickly will it spread when from us falls

A Tiny Drop of Water

A drop of water falls
Into the ocean waves
It carries with it memories
Of sky and fog and haze

Now part of a bigger body
It's history no less real
This drop of life in light
Can help a human heal

The oceans called it home
And to them did it go
Now that little drop is everywhere
But the same drop will not show

In time I am a drop
That and little more
Might memory be of healing
As I too reach my shore

Life

Sometimes life brings us joy
Sometimes life brings us pain
Sometimes life will annoy
Sometimes life even seems plain

Today life gives us sorrow
We've no clue what may come next
We can't know if there'll be a tomorrow
No wonder, life is a mess

Broken is memory in most things I know
And missing are entries in the history of me
Lost is the wisdom of past now in tow
Yet now I see how to make it all be

Forgiveness is grand it has saved me whole
But I can't just leave it there all alone
Forgiveness is everyone's it can never be sold
It's something I must give before chances are gone

A leading question? (or) Leading to a question?

I want to ask a question in hopes that some will see and answer.
I look around me and see life in all directions and cannot follow the chains.
Everyone's linked by means of living and breathing the same precious air.
One step in any direction finds ground trod by another who left a tiny imprint of themselves.
What soul left this imprint before me I cannot know, but I am honored to know that soul has shared this ground.
There is evil in the works of men and yet there is good to be seen.

I am a man of simple things.
I am a man who's known the ugly rage of war.
I am a man who's seen the glory of another's giving soul in a time that could well have made them pay dearly for being decent and loving.
I am a man who most often sees the good in life and is known the optimist, though I am only just a man.
I am a man who has known pain of loss, of broken heart, of misstep, of sickness, of evil taking it's toll on the good.
I am a man who truly believes that illicit drugs are being circulated in acts of terrorism upon the lives of my country and my world.
I am a man who has seen things he refuses to review, even in his mind.
I am a man who knows true joy and sees it daily by grace.
I am a man who knows the unchained love of the only woman who could ever be.
I am a man who knows the wonder of children and the warmth of seeing them become adults to take up the world for their own cause.
I am a man who knows the melting peace of looking into his Grandchildren's eyes and knowing that his Children have done far better than fair.
I am a man who will not give up.
I will not give up on seeing another up a hill.
I will not give up on my fellow man coming to his senses.
I will not give up on my country putting it's people first.
I will not give up on my friends, even when they should wish it.
I will not stop! I will not give in! I will LIVE and I will share it with with the world that any who'd care to, could only reach out and take of it.
I will go on, for I am a driven man.
I am just a man.

I wonder who you are fair reader.
I wonder where this finds you today.
I wonder how your battle holds.
I wonder not of the stories of your past, but what they've made of your present.
I wonder if you might have been one of the souls that I've looked upon to give me strength when the world seemed so wrong to me back when.
I wonder if you too know the true reality, that life is not about breathing, but rather living.
I wonder if you understand living by the same terms as myself. In my world, to live is to laugh, to love, to care and to share it all.

We are all different people. We all have different stories. We all have different goals and dreams. We are all different people who were created equal. We are all different people who will one day die as equal as we were created.

Who are you?

This pen
My staff
I'm steady

This page
My path
I'm ready

With weary eyes
And heavy feet
I limp along my way

Within me churning
A stoked fire burning
I look back across my days

Ahead the clearing withers
The pathway drawing in
I shift my laden weight
Tired feet their chore begin

The sky above me empty
No bird or cloud nor dark or light
Here there is no music
Nor is there news of day or night

Though the path is no more trod
Onward now and straight I go
I feel no brambles tear me
As my blood begins to flow

I feel no pain just heavy
As my sight my mind unsews
The pool my greatest burden
My body still in tow

Murky waters sloshing freely
Across their guarded shores
No air upon my face
I trod it's depths once more

My pathway finds me here
At this place it sent me to
This day I step no further
For it's here my deeds must do

Look behind you

Today the flower that yesterday was the seed.
Today the weed that yesterday was the flower.

Let's take a few steps back into time. I think you might just find it enjoyable if you'll give it a try.

Step back to outdoors being freedom. When we waited anxiously for the weather to allow us back outside where we could have fun without the constraints of the rules of indoor life.

Step back to the joys of the rain and the wonder inspired by watching it splash, drop by drop into the waiting pools who would grow and grow as more and more drops came together.

Step back to the wonder of a bright sunny day. How the world seemed greener than the day before, how the colors of nature seemed brighter than our eyes could fully take in.

Step back to the simple things in life being so much fun. How we could take a few sticks, maybe some rocks, or pretty much whatever and create whatever wonder we dreamed up. Or perhaps how we could just pick up those little meaningless items and create a game that would last all day and winning was the one part we forgot to build into the rules.

Join me here in the yard of yesteryear. Here where dandelions are flowers. Where we can't understand how anything named Dandy and Lion could possibly be a weed. Where we can't understand how our parents don't want us to make those beautiful little umbrellas fly from the dandelion gone to seed, because it will make MORE grow. DUH, and why wouldn't you want more? Those little flowers that mimic the sun, only to turn even more beautiful puffy balls of cottony, airy wonder.

Remember back then? Remember how we couldn't understand that the dandelion could possibly be called a weed? Rember how we wanted so hard to explain to our parents that pretty and weed don't mix?

Hmmm, who was right, the us of yesteryear or the us of today?

Call me childish, I shall count it a compliment. I still see as I saw back then. I still believe now as I did then. I have matured through the years, but have not ceased to be me. I have merely become the mature child I am.

The dandelion is still nature's yard decoration. See it now as then and value it now for it's place in YOUR history.

What is beauty? The you of yesteryear may have the only clear answer.

? ? ? Title Me ? ? ?

Here in stillness, forever lies waiting
Holding for moments of clarity's view

Here in the silence plays the music of life
Peacefully playing to a rhythm not new



Look not for me now in the world's happening places
Look not for me ever in fame's many faces

Look not with your eyes if it's sight that you seek
Look not with vision but with your heart's beat



Take up the stage and make it your own
Sing out your joy to grow as it's grown



Hear with your heart
And listen with your soul

See with your mind
If you wish it whole



Life must me lived to call it a life
Rewards are all nothing if not born of strife

To live is to share and to share is to live
To live is to love and to love is to live
To live is to laugh and to laugh is to live
To live is to give joy and to give joy is to live

Life truly is precious, hold on with full might
But share it with friends or it'll never be bright



My wish is for joy
To anyone who should read
The ramblings afore
And the babble beneath

Nothing matters more than what matters most.
What matters most?

Time

It must be time. It simply has to be. I’ve waited and waited, all the while impersonating a patient man. I look up and the stars are in order, not a one out of place. I look down and the water beneath my vessel flows flawlessly in the right current, as it should be. The wind upon my person tells it’s tale, for it’s now blowing steady in the right direction. Yes, it simply must be time.

Our quest begins as we board our lofty crafts in search of graven sight. Upon the moment do we ride. In the hours before us, shall we find our common vision. It is then that we shall endeavor to know what view we shall hold upon our journey.

I caution all to remain skeptic and careless in your own thoughts as we now traverse this dangerous water. Keep your eyes closed and look carefully over your surroundings. There are many dangerous obstacles to pass. Let not light fall upon your eyes, and keep your focus on safety.

From now I must leave you be. Leave now upon your quest and look forward, as I will, unto our meeting at our point of common sight. Finally then, will be chance to join in common journey.

Go, go now and find me.

One of my "off the top of my head" pieces....... from right now, no editing, real as it is

Entranced, lost in the warmth of the sun
Walking, in light of the things to be done

Where is my time to be what may be
When is the moment of vision to see

Today is the day, as is every day
For this is the way, the only way

What we care for do we hold dear
What is so loved is kept near

It is here then, that time does allow
It is this moment, right here, right now

Live as a lover
Love as you live

Laugh as a smile
Smile as you love for the while.

Empty

Wailing winds, you haunt me so
Tortured sorrow, let me go
Burning flame within my soul
Quench your thirst and leave me whole


Dark of night inside my eyes
Release my tears and let me cry
Open wounds of broken flesh
Blood flow strong and heal to crest


Weary legs, please do not fall
Hold my weight against this wall
Mind don’t race or wander on
Hold my thoughts and keep them strong


A stumbling shell of who I am
I must walk on to distant land
Where I may die, rest not my bones
Gather the dust and send me home





Yes, there are some of my poems that cross "the line" if you will. This one isn't quite there by my standards, but I'm trying to take you there gently.

Frank

Never Been There

It doesn’t really matter where, even less when or how. Though I’ve often heard the stories, I’ve yet to know the truths from the lies.

My memories tell me little of how it looks, but even such little seems great. I do recall the lights and how they seemed to dance upon the ground. I remember a beautiful scent, but can’t recall it’s aroma. Perhaps I’ll get the chance to see it with my own eyes someday.

Yes, I know that there is none such a beautiful place but there, yet I have full memories of many wonderful sights. Still I long to remember the visions which once fell so soft upon my eyes. Would that life yield me time, I will go back again. I just don’t know the way, for I’ve never been there before.

A poem by a friend

This poem's not of my works. It's by a friend and co-worker. I read it and immediately thought it needed to be seen.

********************************************************

THE GAME

It all started out just like a game.
It was fun to play with lots of fame.
A little smoke here and a little snort there.
Then next thing you know, it’s too important to share.

Wherever drugs are, you’ll go there.
How dangerous and nasty, you really don’t care.
Drugs are so powerful, they can take the panties off a queen,
And make her act like a puppet on a string.

All the times you’re high and think you’re having fun.
You really starring down the barrel of a loaded gun.
One more hit, one more line
The next thing you know, you’re doing time.

I had some fun times. I have to admit.
If I hadn’t went to jail, I’m sure I never would have quit.
Now you miss your family and all you care about on the streets.
All the things you didn’t think about when searching for the ultimate geek.

It’s hard to believe that I was too blind to see.
All the people I was hurting, just pleasing me.
I don’t know what happened to all the so called friends I thought I had?
Now I never hear from them and I’m really quite glad.

The only ones I hear about got busted and went to jail,
Or they found them somewhere dead, on the path to hell.
So if you’re looking down the barrel with your finger on the trigger,
It’s all up to you so take the time to figure.

You can pull the trigger and blow you r dreams away,
Or leave the drugs alone and change your evil ways.
I don’t understand why they call it the game?
It makes you loose your loved ones and costs you everything.

by Greg Bailey

Rain

Deep sunless sky
chilled air moves
Water from up high
a world cast in blue

Shadows looming everywhere
droplets forming pools
Puddles run together
rivers start to move

Soil soaked in life
explosions in the air
Flashing light shows raging
lust of life with flair

Continue on my storm
live, live out your life
Replenish me my soul
I shall remember strength in strife

A poem for the day

Concerto at the Necropolis

Tortured hearts singing softly

Steadily breaking in tune

Soulless strings playing off beat

Shattered symbols loom


Rhythm reaches out for ears

Falling deaf on empty faces

A stone hearted audience

Held tight in artist’s graces


The conductor flailing hopeless

Blood swelling from his eyes

Rotting flesh flings from his wrists

The audience barely sighs


Drummers tapping gently

With what bones they could spare

Woodwinds groan in spray

Spouting dust in lack of air


Listen

Listen closely

And let the music die