… gray’s matters

( http://www.wallstreetotc.com/study-suggests-lifetime-learning-might-prevent-dementia/24764/)


It’s scary enough to remember that “OLD” person that your Grand-Parents  used to bring you to visit with them and, ALL you can recollect is the weird facial expressions they made when they’d attempt to tell a shared event. The fact that you had heard part of this story is your blessing in that you can assist the mental “plug-ins” of a word, term, place… , to be the good child of ‘politeness’ and HONOR of this friends position in the family history lessons.

But, what of your SELF? how are YOU going to preserve the stories “of”? The reading of another’s thoughts and events can continually FUEL the mind to be as “IN TUNE” as when before THIRTY… FIFTY YEARS have strolled by. Each and, EVERY post “glanced”, or devoured is the synaptic whetstone of a ‘clearer’ mind.

Ever notice the white-haired folk riding bicycles with a varied age group and how well they INSTIGATE the younger into feeding their brain?


they say that ‘THINKING’
keeps good’s thoughts
thus saving all that writing
some must do
the books ‘we’ scour
bloom mental flowers
the gardens forced
to play in during ‘youth’
to use a word
from centuries gone
remembered from
a life or “two” ago
and in sentence same
verb current with a grand-child
past their friends own grasp
as the clock tocked
without synap-tics
this is an exersize
for the gray’s matters

Published in: on June 25, 2014 at 6:42 am  Leave a Comment  
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this for who dared Marry ME
a distant thought called LOVE
although there’s no longer “WE”
the OUTSIDE push and shove…

you were the ONE
that answered my dream
left your personal signatory
on the “wish” list
YOUR words were larger than Vermont
coming by way of a most gorgeous “flower’

We tipped, you up… me OVER
skin like a Tulip’s petals
hair as tawny as fresh mint penny
You told me you loved me… silently
the petals brailllicly impressing
my ‘moosh ‘speed reading
the celebration of “want”
unveiled us
your topography an awe
this “world” would take MORE than EIGHTY DAYS

“WE” stood in wrapped attention
your invitation by catches
of your breaths drawing me
finding ‘merged’ you collected “tears”
of your ‘welcome’
washed us
in love’s musks

We’ve held each other VERY tightly
even these days, Years, MILES apart
“WE” were as ONE …THEN

Published in: on March 28, 2014 at 9:10 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Tell ALL of your ‘friends’ to…






As NO-ONE is “WITHOUT SIN”  the “gathering” of voices against someone that IS without the “sin” of WORLDLINESS and, ( its hidden agendas.), is quite WRONG. As a man that lives in the [CLOISTERED] walls of swamp and trees the simple RULES of TWO’S COMMON ‘BELIEF’ shouldn’t become the ammunition of a racial slant. To allow a group, or to enlist a group to give credence to one’s time of public jousts with wind driven graineries is not what a LEGACY should have near its finish. The beginning WAS historically brilliant in the partnering to one that WILL have pebbles falling from wherever his name is [ETCHED].


The trivia of NOW is NOT the what you were taught to put your strengths to.

Published in: on December 25, 2013 at 5:00 am  Leave a Comment  
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… to be the wrap

It’s funny / ironic that the “first” time that I sat to “write” about a situation “presented” was the initial ‘EARTH DAY’ composition contest given at my High School in 1972. I heard about it from one of the “heads” from the “Distributive Education” class we were taking, and the excitement of the National Honor Society candidates’ “bit champing” over the assorted categories made me list the excuses to NOT put my “TWOCENTSANSUM” into the fray. Remember that I’ve mentioned that I’m DYSLEXIC, and it WASN’T “fun” for me to have to cuneiform my weirdness to papyrus.

Even though there was “NO CHANCE” for me to get close to the “MENSIC” masters around me I wrote a story of two “folk” talking about the “days OF”. Simple sophomoric conversation like listening to “OLD FOLK” during the 1950’s Television shows… written by ROD SERLING. For some bizarre reason the story ‘won’ the ESSAY division. Now it’s FOURTY-ONE years after and, sadly, my Mother HAS LOST the original copy of the ONE, and ONLY documented accomplishment of thirteen years of “formal” education. That’s alright, because someday I’ll get it CORRECTED. I’ve been practicing  on WORDPRESS.COM  around 1,219 times now, and this TITLE is the first attempt.

SO, as Cheech Marin and Tommy Chong’s  Chicano buddy’s namesake is… JUAN MOTIYM !

how long until the wither
whither that I care at all
whether when wet turns to white
is this orb spinning around hot ball

how now the vow to find success
is gist of fist at fate
and low to grow past didn’t show
be also ran to great

the simple word jot with some verve
slow sample of left behind
hop-scotched thought earned not bought
your stopping here so kind

so, on this lap the hunt to tap
find’s oh-oh from e.e.’s map
’tis so much joy to “Ginny’s” boy
this sentence to be the wrap

Published in: on October 29, 2013 at 3:52 am  Leave a Comment  
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…so much DROSS

stick well you

      to your


and, NEVER


           YOUR QLAAN

the “world”

      you “think”

           is PERFECT

to snipe GRAIN

      from an open hand

some rules are


        for KEEPING

though NOT

      when ELSES

        trust to LOSS

the age arrives

      for those UNWISE

        are separated

as they’re

      so much DROSSImage

Hello… AGAIN

Reintroductions are so taxing,

as they tend to be quite droll.

Something that should be relaxing,

most agree MUST have some SOUL.

Then there’s that thing called, uhmmm, INTEREST

minds wrapped in “candied” constinants.

And, what just might pique their query,

not from ‘clouds’, but deep raised views,

maybe coming from GOOD’S headlines

’bout some “CAT” in ‘Fisherman’s’ shoes.

Can there be of some regaining

after time of MANY MONTHS?

Is there ANYONE remaining,

the “readership” chosen choice to ‘PUNT’?

So, a good, and gracious HELLO!

With a hope for NON-Adieux.

I do hope my thought’s like Jello

that what’s here can find some room.

 Well, it’s short and not so cagey.

button jotted by some Loon.

But, this time’s been far from lazy

as this note tells “BE BACK SOON”


I’ve felt like a Caveman with a broken Papyrus brush.Image

Published in: on August 17, 2013 at 9:55 am  Leave a Comment  
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a friend buried his first love today
I waited
until the family had left
had shed tears of finality
had hugged
had whispered
“there, she’s at PEACE”

I walked past
the last few cars
hoping that they’d not notice
the guy walking opposite
in an old silk
formal midnight blue
Italian made suit
would have nodded

the latest victim of CANCER
I chose this moment
because my city “tan”
doesn’t “rub” well
with country “alabaster”
even though the next generation boom
better than I

the work crew has taken down the tent
clangs of pot metal aluminum
drawn to order
shoulder to shoulder
both were compact
in that YOUTH
she didn’t get far
past it

the BONE-PEARL base
calligraphy brushed anodized
FUSHIA accents
this IS a BIKER’S beauty
a last ride of STYLE
HE always chose
and for KEEPS

I waited until
the concrete envelope
was distributed over
the origami metal parchment
holding the cartridge of a life
now run dry

Lowered in solemnness
placed into the dove-tail
cut from the MANTEL
this WOMAN has returned
to where her cells
call home

Published in: on October 8, 2012 at 10:28 pm  Comments (1)  
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e.e. scruggs Five String GIANT

EARL EUGENE SCRUGGS lived a year for each key, and ALL seven octaves, of the Piano. And, played it all on just FIVE strings of a Banjo.

Most non-COUNTRY folk hadn’t heard of Mr. Scruggs until they saw the “Beverly Hillbillies”, or watched “Deliverance”, focusing on the “dumb genius” of the ‘Banjo Boy’ pickin’ on the porch. But, the real “banjo-boy” had developed the style that carried this truest of GENIUS’ to heights that could’ve seen them playing “SALTY DOG” thoughout ‘SHANGRI-LA’…

Some true Yodeling crossed with THROAT-SINGING!

If you sometimes sit and seriously listen to the craftsmanship of HOW the organizations of “noise” is put together as well as anything Michaelangelo hammered out of Marble then you feel the staccato flow of Earl’s three fingers dancing atop a string.

For someone that was supposed to have grown up in a gene pool of R&B I listened to COUNTRY for the first six years, and seem to remember a gent with the last name of an Eskimo breed of dog… HUSKY, “FERLIN” I believe.

The only thing that I can say now is that HEAVEN has just opened its gates to a whole new set of Angel’s “HARP” playin’ with LESTER* and EARL back on the same STAGE.
* ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lester_Flatt )

He’s telling the TRUTH.

Published in: on March 29, 2012 at 3:22 am  Leave a Comment