Kiss

May I kiss you my love?

May my lips caress the tears from your eyes

Let my tongue dance on your belly, your breasts and thighs

Close your eyes now my sweet

Let your thoughts be of the sweet nectar

Your delicious rose petals give to me

Dream deep now my love of my lips on your toes

My tongue on your feet kissing you softly

Past your ankles, your knees, my breath on your thighs

Heavens gate opens to please as my tongue dances softly

Onward and inward caressing the petals of life

I love the sound of your moans your cries of delight

I love you my darling, I wish only to please

Kissing and caressing upward to your beautiful breasts

You surrender to my breath as my lips encircle your buds

Now only tears of your pleasure do I see

Surrender now softly my love into my arms for the night.

Just Sitting

Two years wasted here in Gatorville U.S.A.

Poor paying work, then health went away

Low wages, a safety net I could never get made

Can’t work while you’re ill, so the job went away

States broke, no help at all for white single males

Gotta move on when you can’t pay your rent

Put your thumb in the air, hope for the best

Can’t stay if you can’t work, here they’ll throw you in jail

Can’t go south, only the jail cell would change

Lose all you’ve worked for if your health fails you here

Thumb pointing north, hopefully I’ll find a friendlier place to live

Caught a ride through the Tomahawk let out up in Choo-Choo Tennessee

Now walking north thumb in the air headed toward the Cavalier

Families roots up in the Blue Ridge, about five days walk from here

Two day’s I walked to K-town, feet, back, and chest on fire

Back roads you gotta walk, blue light specials if you don’t

11-E north, one more day my feet and body slave

Now in a place called Morristown, another step I can not walk

Parked my back against a pole that say’s Cumberland and Main

Pulled out my harmonica, trying to take my mind off of the pain

People here seem friendly, several gathering round to hear me play

Wasn’t long before the police came doubted they are here to listen to me play

Figured if I was lucky they would just tell me to get up and go away

Shocked the life right out of me when they asked if I had a place to stay

They got me lined up with a shelter, with a bag of groceries along the way

They checked, no warrants, just a man down on his health and luck

Treated me like a man, told me that here is a place I’m welcome to stay

This town has lots of true Christian folks, they’re not just in name

If they know that you’re trying, they will help you when you’re down

They helped get me a furnished room where I can lay my head

Now have some food in the cabinets and some extra clothes on the bed

Central Services, a couple Churches and Goodwill helped me out

Within two days I had a job, now in a Bluegrass Band I play

On Sundays I play piano at the Church, giving back a helping hand my way

No comparisons to how I was treated when my health went out in FLA.

I’m not to far from Dollywood, beautiful Smokies just to my south to see

Here even when you’re down and out, if your willing to get off your butt and work

Some of the finest Christian people you could ever meet, here in Morristown Tennessee!

Is It Real

In one’s imagination forms do appear

Yet unknown to all but the Author’s Pen

Whether forms be beauty like a light blue sky

Or be daunting like the black clouds of a spring rain.

Does the Earth contain habitation?

Or, is our lives the imagination of the Great Poet?

Is it possible that we are but toys in a dream?

Is our world but the swipe of a brush?

Can we paint the sun into a cloudy day?

Nor can we lift the dirt from a cold, cold grave!

O Poet, be bright in the scenes that you write

For we know not if tonight our soul will take flight

Leaving behind only the light that we lived

Even if you and I only really lived

In the imagination of the Great Poets Pen!

In My Eyes (The Mirror)

In my bathroom mirror, I see but a grain of sand

How is it that one such as I could possess an ego

How could anyone look upon one such as I

This old man, and entertain a single thought of lust?

In my mirror I see my head a balding

Hair now only tends to grow in my nose

And out my ears, but upon my head, not at all.

Even with these old eyes I see my belly swaying

Created by too many sodas drinking

So many years of my life all I did was work

Army lightning strike tore up this bodies life

Never anytime for any recreation or play, just work.

In the reflection of my bathrooms mirror

I see my store bought teeth, in their container waiting

In my mirror I see all these things

With these store bought eyeballs a hanging on my face

Now in my shower I think of a real great thought

If I just leave those store bought glasses on my desk

For a moment then this old mans flaws will go away

Head in the sand, if you can’t see them, they went away

Now all things in my mirror are a blurring

Young man in my mind but not my heart

Thinking of my loved one’s I will soon see again

As I peacefully lay here beneath the mirror

Comfort here upon my bathroom floor expiring!

How Do You See

What are you?

Are you a man, a woman?

What am I to you?

How do you see me?

What are you to me?

How do you perceive that we are seen?

Are you good, are you evil?

Are all things true, and good at your will?

You and I, we see the same things!

In our own eyes we are enlightened!

When our brains behold, what does it tell us?

We just witnessed the same event, or did we?

As it is said, love is in the eye of the beholder

Is truth then only in the eyes and heart of the believer?

If I see evil, but you are blinded to it, is it still evil?

If you know not how to see love, does it make it not there?

If you choose reason and I choose faith

Are we both right, are we both wrong?

A junk yard dog, is he your protector, or your puppy?

My friend, are not all things the result of how we choose to see them?

The Hoss

They call me the Hoss

On this Range here I’m the Boss

Born with both my legs a hanging off a horse

My back is damn sure not broke, it’s my Range, I’m the Hoss.

High up on my Nag, you know I never been one to brag

Never been one to kiss ass or grovel, I cast a long shadow

At six foot six don’t you know I’m always tall in the saddle

Don’t you ever forget it, out here on this Range, I’m the Hoss

Life is sometimes heroic, my good looks make me truly historic

It’s just cause I’m so handsome and everyone knows it

Don’t you know that on the West Texas Range, I’m the Hoss

My skin is now so much tougher than leather

As a young man didn’t know enough to get out of the weather

Age has now taught me much better, Ho Jo, now my favorite four letters.

Did I forget to mention that I’ve got Horns  on my 64 Lincoln

I’m so cool, never fooled, I’m a Hall Of Fame Cowboy legend

No one can possibly forget of my heroics and fame

I’m the King of the Range, my hat and coat solar powered

You can see them from space, as they light up my name, yep I’m the Hoss.

Hate

Friend, this I tell you, hate is the anguish of the old

Those of gray hair, their minds sinking deeper into despair

Caught up in the memories in their life’s late evening air

They beat upon their chests praying toward God’s Throne on High

Convulsing their hate and their pain trying their best to not go insane

Their hearts and their Souls silently clinging to their acidic lies

Life is a balance beam, horizontally suspended in the air

To the Mercy Throne of God we should all our hearts and Souls lay bare

Grieving for our dead, the hurt causing such anger and despair

The touch of the Monuments, the Names, our fingers linger there

Our pain everlasting, how the hate lingers, our tears on the ground

For our loved one’s taken, our bodies crumble on the ground

Hate can explode ones heart or the brain if we cannot divorce it in time

Our loved ones will soon be putting our bones parallel  six feet below.

 

Grace Is The Peace

Grace is the peace that the Lord has given

To him or to her, peace is the Spirit within

Grace is the warm blanket in the cold of night

Peace is the Spirit led Soul in the love of the Light

Love is the trust one has in the Spirit led life

Grace is always offered, given from the Heart of the Son

It is the Lords Peace that humans often try to run from.

Why do we humans often try to seek the darkness?

Do we seek our lives from the dollar and the gun?

We try to hide the things we have done

Man can be so foolish some more so than some

If the Lord’s Spirit indwells you, how can you run?

The Day of God’s Peace is soon coming

Through the Grace of the Father and the Son

Darkness will forever be closed out from within

From within us the Spirit of God, Grace and Peace is given

If we choose to shun God’s Grace, in Hell we will be living!

Little Princess

Little girls are so pretty from the time they are born

With their smiles like Heaven so tender and warm

They learn to tottle and waddle and fall on their buns

With eyes lit like Angels, their hearts so tender and warm.

God’s gifts from Mommy’s bellies to Daddy’s outstretched arms

The Princess is taken to Her Castle where She will be safe from all harm.

Till school does begin and Her new world She does charm

Smiling and dancing and tender is She

Till finished with schooling, then Her Beau on one knee.

Her Knight in shining armor does take Her away

From Mommy and Daddy to Her own new Castle

Where the Queen She now be.

Not long in Her new Kingdom Her belly does rise

The Lord delivers to Her and Her Hubby

A little Bundle with bright shining eyes

With a smile like unto Heaven, their new Princess has arrived.

Galax Virginia

Galax, a pretty heart shaped plant, a flower

Cluster of small white flowers to the eyes delight

But be careful of the stickers that can spike the hand

Pretty to the eyes, but a name known by few men.

Southwest Virginia, a town, the flowers abundantly grew

Basset, Vaughn, and Webb, where hard working families grew

Beautiful quality furnishings made in this Valley Estate

Set in Appalachia, The Blue Ridge, where Angels come to play.

The people are friendly, always a nod and a wave

The rolling hills, valleys, New River, Crooked Creek

A birth place of Poetry, so many a kind face

The World Famous Fiddlers Convention each August they play.

Galax, a beautiful place to retire or to start over again

A community, a people, seemingly hidden in time

Land, homes, food, on an affordable dime

Peaceful, caring Christian demeanored folks you will find.

The community like the flower open hearted, pretty and kind

Galax, Twin Counties, Carroll and Grayson you’ll find

Iron Ridge, beautiful green pastures, scenery frozen in my mind

The place of my birth, the place I hope to be buried in the Lords time.