In The Center

what’s in your center?

an enlightening epiphany

or more?

discovering your inner core?

a place to safely explore?

some say

the soul is your center

and gateway

to your spirit

that follows a pathway

up a celestial stairway

to heaven

but I wouldn’t know

I have a wayward soul

that wanders alone

seeking the center

of the universe

and it’s secrets

but

I still wonder why

I can never go home

no matter how hard I try

Obo the Clown

he was young when he started clowning around

the world his theater in the round

he wasn’t the kind of guy who ever got down

I’m talking about Obo the Clown

he was known for his funny jokes

and appealed to all kinds of folks

by all accounts he was always merry

when talking comedy he was a visionary

he enjoyed playing the clown for the day

and being on public display

the best thing about Obo the Clown

is that everyone wanted him around

Ballad of Hotfoot and Thunder Thighs

there’s a ballad about two crazy guys

called Hotfoot and Thunder Thighs

who made people roar with laughter

and were often sought after

for their ability to make you laugh or cry

their very presence could electrify

they traveled on country trails

and loved to tell funny tales

both free as could be

the world their marquee

these guys were something to see

Experience

you can’t go to a store and buy it

it doesn’t come neatly prepackaged

like a commodity

Experience comes with the school of hard knocks

like a scratched knee

there’s no magical pills to replace it

it’s a matter of your history

Early Memories

some early memories are gardens of delight

others are not so serene like getting into a fight

making Revelle car models like Ed Roth’s SuperFink

was a favorite hobby because I didn’t have to think

I raced on narrow red skateboards with metal wheels

while dreaming of someday having my own automobiles

my imagination was unfettered with too many facts

spending my time playing with all kinds of knick-knacks

countless hours were spent imitating TV heroes

in plots with pals featuring dramatic death throes

my memories of those early days

of childish beliefs and pretend plays

are still companions in my old age

and are still a pleasure to engage

In Praise of Puppets

stings attached

dolls with big eyes

in disguise

one expression forever frozen

in a grimace or a wide smile

meant to beguile

watch the puppets dance

take a chance

enjoy the performance

and suspend reality

to watch their story

Dial for Love

Flash Fiction 400 -words

Deuce McCutcheon went to her funeral a year ago, but was still having trouble believing she was gone forever. Freyja was the love of his life. She was the first, and only, woman who could see behind the hideous mask of his contorted face, which was a result of a terrible childhood injury.

She never hesitated to kiss his twisted lips in public or private. They were soulmates, spending endless hours talking through sleepless nights. Sharing their dreams and inner desires until exhaustion overtook them both. Their years together flew by like days as the lovers languished in the security of one anothers embrace.

As lovers often do, they talked about life after death and what they would do when the horrible time came when one was left without the other. They weighed in on his Christian Heaven, and her Norwegian Valhalla. They explored the concept of life energy moving from one host to the next. They planned elaborate ways of communicating from one realm or dimension to the survivor’s world.

But nothing worked. Deuce grew more depressed every day. On the anniversary of her death he visited her grave. Pulling out a sprig of sage he lit it and passed the smoke back and forth over her resting place. Next, he pulled out his pipe and packed it with a strain of their favorite cannabis, and puffed on it thoughtfully as he looked at her photo which he brought with him.

A thought entered his grief. Hazy and unformed. He realized that he had saved more than just photos of her. He had saved her old cell phone number. He was fumbling for his old-fashioned flip cell phone when the sun parted the dark clouds that hung over the cemetery.

Opening it, he went straight to his address book. There it was. Freyja’s phone number. The chill seemed to go away and he took his jacket off while staring at the number. He was experiencing a strange sense of peace. He pushed her number…and waited. It rang three times. Then he heard Freyja’s high voice…”I wondered when you would call,” she teased him.

The next day a ground’s keeper discovered Deuce’s body, curled up on a grave. He was still clutching his cell phone. Later when asked about his discovery by a reporter, he said, “You should have seen the smile on that guy’s face!”

The Ripple Effect

the consequences of our actions cause ripples in a cosmic sea

reverberating further than our eye can see

they echo in the myriad corridors of eternity

and find fertile hunting grounds in diversity

they spawn revolutions and bring prosperity

sometimes they point out things inadvertently

as you watch helplessly

with uncertainty

as the ripples spread out mysteriously

entwined with your fate in history

Childhood Photo

I looked like a defiant little boy

staring into the camera with his toy

with my serious eyes and curly hair

it could have been taken anywhere

a black and white memory of days past

a glimpse of youth that didn’t last

no trace of a smile on my chubby face

it appears I’d rather be in some other place

what caused me to look so grim?

something serious, or just a whim?

I can’t remember what I thought that day

it appears someone interrupted my play

childhood photos are ghosts from our past

while memories fade, they’ll always last

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