Running My Fingers Upon The Smooth Surface

Running my fingers upon the smooth surface
Keeping them always against the grain
I know my way through the Redwoods
They’re my protection against the dark stains

Born in the high desert among the cacti
Faint echoes from mission bells of yore
Great things come from fools with faith
Misguided souls remain thirsty for more

Stubborn & obstinate as hardwood
Needing my love to keep from being truculent
Even though our touch doesn’t always soften conditions
Nevertheless, she is still my favorite succulent

Liberation Granted By The Morning Alarm

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Liberation granted by the morning alarm
Still alive; this body aching with rippling fatigue
October visions, yet I’m safe from obvious harm
Visions dwindling; remnants of horrific intrigue

Seeking out coffee to loosen this slumber
A stretch & chance to deliberately mourn
These dreams encrusted in burnt umber
Sworn to abide by the wisdom of Nat Hawthorn

The terror that befalls us when we’re unaware
Soon free from the slow tolling of the funeral bell
Needful sleep caught us within a nightmare
Unconsciously breaking from a manufactured hell

Visions of dropping acid with William Blake
Dawn is our escape; returning to peace as we wake

Great American Notebook

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Great American notebook
Time to add our verse
Or merely help to tread water
While we all survive
Ringing the ship’s bell
Putting on warm tunes
Honing the proper words
To elevate our voice

For Whom The Bell Jar Tolls

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For whom the Bell Jar tolls
Chasing demons down the dark hall
Scratching an itch until it bleeds
Beyond a fantasy that wasn’t there at all

Never letting the imposter take hold
Growing larger in our own impression
Sizing up unquestioned confidence
Surviving in spite of a soul’s transgression

Ravens Flocking From The Bell Tower

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Ravens flocking from the bell tower
The monks making sure they’re rung
Her beauty remains alone inside
Time enough for our song to be sung

Aroused By The Typewriter’s Bell

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Aroused by the typewriter’s bell
I’m salivating like Pavlov’s dog
Imagining caffeinated mornings
Walking the Sunset within the fog
Though those were forgotten emotions
I’m not able to repeat that form
So I do my best to feel the original
Sometimes I’m hard to notice before the storm

Jingle Bell Rock