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Random Thoughts Set Afloat.

Updated on February 7, 2013


We write with the edges of our souls

sharpened by emotional grinding day to day

and what flows is the innermost gleanings

of our deepest hopes and dreams..


I have seen the night walkers

in the alleyways of New York's canyons

and on the dusty back roads of Montana

and in the graveyards of

the military dead at 3:00 a.m.

I have been a night walker myself

and strolled the darkness

following a slice of sorrow thinly cut

like a sliver of moonlight.. .

There are always puddles

where there are night walkers..

puddles of blood...tears...sweat and rain.....

There are ghostly night walkers

who still stagger through

the tunnels of guerrillas in Vietnam though

the reason for their three mile stare is long gone.

There have been many nightwalkers in the oval office

sleepless from the weight of life and death choices made.

There are Night walkers all over the world

and they converge at some point

and become a shadow

that blots out the day...

this is the darkest hour before dawn...


When dreams leave

open wounds in ones soul

and the only thing to bind it

is the one who is bound for somewhere else..

then there is little one can do

but be alone and nurse

the slashes of solitude back to a

reasonable facsimile of what they once were...


In the cocoon of night's embrace

we spread our wings into limbs and float on

the dreamy cushions of thought...

that let us fly beyond all that

life could ever offer..and the

translucent and rainbow hues

of our wings in this never never place

are of such sheer beauty that we awaken

with tear dust collected in both of our eyes


God's ear is always attuned to the voice of a child....

and he cherishes them as highest amidst all of his creations...

he grants them a period similar to Adam and Eve's..

a few blissful years of pure innocence to play and frolic

in the big wonderful world without the burdens

of sin or guilt or responsibilities

(F.) -

The moon pulls souls together

just as it folds the waves one over the other.....

it has viewed the passion of thousands of years

in all the wilds below it....

it is always just outside the window

with a fingernail smile or a bright beaming ray

that illuminates two sets of lips entwined

times ten billion all over the planet.

The moon is a voyeur who helps stir the scenes

like a director who orchestrates the moods

and the settings and we are but actors

under his tides of impulse.

We have walked on his dusty face

but he has gleamed in the eyes of countless

coming together by two's for centuries

and he is the love light...the night light

that illuminates passions trysts

(G.)- an ivy clinging

to the walls of ones soul

blotting out the light that

normally glows warmly through

the membranes of ones inner self...

it is a poison ivy that irritates and disturbs....

and lingers long after contact with the offense

that caused it is gone.....

salt can kill the root of the sadness..

the ivy..though poison... cannot tolerate salt..

and let the salty tears flow freely

over the ivy walls of your souls

and wither the root and then let

the light and warmth of one's smiles

enter in and set you in a clear place of entanglement..


And so the thoughts dry like ink on a page,

or the vapor trails of an inkjet across virtual space.

Just some random thoughts left here for posterity

rendered while I sat on my posterior and pursued

the try that one finds in Poe-try.

(I.) am done for now....


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