Blog Archives

Virtual Railfanning

I find myself caught in the mist between maybe and the maybe not,
With this shredded rudder and a jib which fails at its level best.
Is life always so testable? Please let it be multiple choice—
As fat fingers reach for another glass filled to its crest.

Now with passing rains that’ll never leave any trace,
We’re all a part of this same tired joke—
All of us punching the tattered line;
Whispering guffaws our parents wouldn’t have dared spoke.

Randomness lingers without offering any answers;
Hope smugly rises, then fades like a chimera.
There’s a late train passing thru Folkston—
COTU waves warm and deeply into the camera.

Passion calls bravely:
No one ought respond.
Remember the days of Doctor Who
And those wished-for nights with Amy Pond?

The poem yearns for some fulfilling reason;
Something clever, poignant, worthy of being read.
Ha! Good luck with all that—
I’m virtually going back to Ashland VA instead!

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Shouldna (c’est la vie)

Shouldna kissed her fast
Shouldna thrown that glass
Shouldna taken the road less traveled
Shouldna known to let it all pass
Shouldna went along
Shouldna stayed up all night
Shouldna trusted to chance
Shouldna let her pass from all sight
Shouldna made my point
Shouldna made it hard stick
Shouldna thought it’d all work out
Shouldna been quite so dammed thick
Shouldna trusted to luck
Shouldna gone to ground
Shouldna flown to LA
Shouldna left the lost and found
Shouldna quit my job
Shouldna ever let her go
Shouldna mustered out
Shouldna did so much blow
Shouldna listened to the gods
Shouldna listen to the Oh So Wise
Shouldna left New Orleans
Shouldna slammed shut both my eyes
Shouldna been born when I was
Shouldna believed in the mardi gras
Shouldna drown in the sorrow
Shouldna disbelieve in the power of tomorrow

Dragons Need Slaying

Do you not see the day pass by?
Over the far hills, and what is more—
The stars and Moon now ruling,
Stole the sky made black; Ruin is in store.
Faraway glances promise change slow nears;
Saint Patrick rues cold the sordid green—
No religion lives to check nether impulses
And things worse than ever before are seen.
Everyone, everywhere, all about
Strives to complete their level best;
While dead heroes’ secrets wet the floor
Stout hearts fail and eschew any challenging test.
Half lies are retold by our complete fools
And the uncaring cast yet another pointless vote.
Sad, the oppressed embrace and brightly paint their chains;
Presidents for Life on all shores have us by the throat!
Who now dares deny the Emperor’s new cloak?
When will Truth return to freely warm our mise en scene?
Our better angels want to do their honest best.
While partiers don their 100-proof gaudy St. Paddy’s green.
Do you not know tomorrow will surely come?
The Sun will light house and yard, and think on what is more—
A fresh start presents to all to make Father proud.
Rise! Rise! Rise! Dragons need slaying here and upon the far shore!

My Ever Lovely

I fear it is too late for true love
Waiting on now broken yet bent knee.
Is it even possible to capture happily ever after?
How do I find she, my ever lovely, from Gurnee?
Callow gazes have passed over to gray hair
As the dimples sink beneath the aged wrinkles.
A once-charming visage is but only hinted at now,
Though sometimes the eye can conjure crinkles.
And children have come and soon spouses fled—
Those great matches of youth are like history, all dead.
Is it now our time to trip lightly and fancy free?
Can we meet for just breathing on the streets of Gurnee?
But the sun sets on our seekers of real love;
Knights errant stumble now when bending to knee.
Is it even possible to capture happily ever after?
How do I find she, my ever lovely, from Gurnee?

Just February Sixth

The another has gone,
With the better returned,
Life curls out and onward—
Karma has forward churned.
Music and the Buddha
Parry for the soul of man.
We’re all about just doing
And becoming the best we can.
May All be happy
To whatever joy they aspire!
No thanks Mr Stewart:
I needn’t be taken any higher.
But today’s someone’s birthday:
Quite readily I wish you Many Happy Returns!
Be mindful of the hearts with which you tumble—
Howsoever cautious, some changes leave burns.
The rain keeps pelting
With a hint of winter bite.
I hope I live ‘til tomorrow.
Y’all, have a great night!

White-Hot Reason

It is a total and dark shadow so deep and far,
Cast from the white-hot glow of this misplaced passion;
Wrought from a longing poorly nailed about you,
I am now blind to understanding in any proper fashion.

Ignored or lost, the borderline fades between
What is easy and what is the right.
We seek sure the embrace of the nether hues—
A warming in the shadows, distrust for the light.

The years pass so fast, and achingly slow,
While Master Future mocks in beckoning.
My path I still cannot hope to discern—
The answer in the mists yet demands a reckoning.

Temperatures inch to drop to below freezing;
Four days to make do into a New Year, and then?
Dark and Light curry favors, and demand fair pay:
Where and how this ends passes beyond my ken.

With a new red wine’s old laughing sneer,
I snuff out the candle that flickers a false content.
With words to betoken a trail to a better dawn—
New Year’s hopes are grasped then onward sent.

A Winter Southbound

The fallen leaves scattered across the tracks,
Southbound 53 would push these farther on.
A love that was empty as Ashland’s winter trees—
A hard weight was lifted now that she’d gone.

No tears, but also no joy, would be found here.
Yes, may the very best find its way over to her;
And should any good be left over hanging out
Perhaps might could entertain here along with Jack’s purr.

Santy Claus is due to arrive in a few days
And we’ve all tried to be and to do our best;
But sometimes it’s never close to good enough
And you cancel flights along with all the rest.

Maybe in the new year happiness real will come
And everyone can breathe and let it all just be;
Festivals and dances return for our lives renewed
And I can get back to that crescent bend in the Mississippi.

The southbound blew its horn passing thru Ashland town
And the online chatroom railfans counted up all the cars.
The empty trees shimmied in the rolling winter wind;
The resettled leaves looked up and counted up all the stars.

Smiles Deliver

Words often fail
Smiles deliver
A touch brushes by
We all shiver
Hoping against hope
The chord lingers
She turns to face
And traces with her fingers
Open your mind
Open your grasp
Close upon my heart
And feel me gasp
Before the bottle opens
And we tumble in the sand
I want to have earned you
Making you smile and safely grand
To dance beyond tomorrow
And chase horizons together
You had me at the pool game
So knock me over with your feather
Because you’re my firebird
Your flame burns so well
I’m not going anywhere
Can you tell?

Another Monday

Blossoming Southern belles—
Plastic as far as you can see.
Sooner or later the truth
Makes itself plain,
More or less eventually.

Travel over the old road,
Hope against hope for happiness new,
But find you’ve returned home
Spitting at the gods—
Chagrined through and through.

Gambling for a maybe,
Hopelessly hoping we young
At heart, we’re quite hopeful.
Why climb the campanile
Seeking a bell yet unrung?

Two storms amangling,
A third fluffs in the wings.
Furbabies tied to trees;
O soft fear strangles us all.
How Stupidity wretchedly stings!

Another Monday looms,
We will all try to do our best.
Be happy and healthy,
Be safe and remain free.
In the end we will all pass this Zen test.

A New Adventure (Same Old Story)

Chasing happily-ever-after
Miles and miles over the road;
Hoping the fair princess
Can discern in this hapless toad

Inside loom love and kindness
Along with old pain and mischance.
But to worry a bit of brie
Along with, just maybe, a dance,

Would be any true man’s dream.
So, a road trip in a new September
A start of something special—
Or an adventure to long remember?

Two empaths to closely encounter
And perhaps co-mix their life stories;
High hoisted on tenterhooks,
Dreaming of better glories.

So All Ye, All Ye, In Free! I’m going to fair Slidell.
Wish for me your best and let’s see what a fortnight can tell.

–“It’s still the same old story
A fight for love and glory
A case of do or die.
The world will always welcome lovers
As time goes by.”