The songs of my soul are my own
I dance alone to notes written just for me
My life a tribute to the path only I see
The days a reflection of a journey I was meant to live

I wasted much of my early life singing the song of others
Denying a direction already branded into my soul
We are born to live our own lives moving to our own rhythms
If only we take the time to hear the music meant for us

I was born the day I tuned out the others who wanted my life My…

She was angry the moment she walked into the room I had not seen in twenty years but she started where we left off still accusing the world of stealing her life I never got a break never had the luck you always had she said She had been beautiful Her body something men stole glances at when they were with their women A fullness other women admired yet hated She had owned any room she walked into back in her day Eyes admiring a tribute to eternal youth Then it all disappeared Her beauty had been her survival She…

Three-room broken-down house Mother an earthbound saint Stepfather a raging drunken demon from the fire Cheap bars on every corner Seven day a week homes for the old and pathetic Four little churches and they still couldn’t save my soul Drunks pissing in the yard at three Passing out on the steps to a God they can’t find We live two miles past the wrong side of town An omen we lived on a dead-end street Took me thirty years to see the humor in the old sign The factories shuttered their doors one summer Then the small guys fled…

I was lying on the floor next to my writing desk staring at the ceiling Two hours, two glasses of wine, and two words written My dog was on the floor next to me her face in my face You are pathetic old man, just pathetic, she whispered Maybe it was the wine, but she was right, nothing sadder than a burnt-out writer in the wee hours without a clue The reptilian part of my brain hurt If writing something of substance today was necessary for my survival then I was a dead man doomed to death by mediocrity Write…

My days in San Francisco were the dark years Work I hated and women who hated me I did not understand living in those days but I was a master of barely surviving There was a crazy man who lived in the bushes behind where I worked His name was Larry Big man, long hair and the smile of a child But reality and he had parted ways years ago Red green, green red, green red, dirty money, you got pretty clothes was his usual greeting as he wandered the streets too far gone to even ask for change But…

Time and I used to be lovers We spent the misspent days of my self-destructive youth hand-in-hand Time always brought me more wine and more women, She loved me as no other, giving me sunrises to waste and days of love that would never end Why should I care about the minutes I screamed, when my years are just beginning, as endless as the lies of a politician Cannot you not understand Time is mine alone forever But Time was one who could not be owned She who wanted nothing from me now wanted it all, and she finally had…

When I could not think of anything I would think of you Sweaty wasted nights in my youth Working all day doing work I hated Drinking much of the night with friends of the moment Couldn’t afford air conditioning in those days Three roommates sharing the cost of a dump Me laying on a mattress on the floor staring at a ceiling fan twirling slowly above my head Irritating hum leaving me hot and frustrated much the way the rest of my life was going in those years I dreamed in those hours of a love that would save me…