Dear Reader,
For fifteen years i gave my all to being a poet. After the first eight, i sorted through the thousands of poems i
had collected to copyright and self-publish my first release, Just Scribbled Words (1986). The response from that
edition filled me with an arrogance my youthful ignorance could not see. I rode that wave until i had a series of
twelve books. During that time, i released: A Month with Marie (July ' 88), Growing Still (August ' 88) and Getting
Real (July ' 94) The eight remaining volumes have never been released, but their volume numbers were retired: A
Collage; Getting Real, Part II; Hey, Jude; Getting Real, Part III; A Collage, Part II; Getting Real, Part IV; Mind
Tunes; and File 13.
,
Age finally lifted the blinding of my own ignorance and misinterpretation of encouraging praise. After a severe
editing, i have arrived at the culmination of my years of toil: Veracious Verse. My hope is that my search for a
handful of truths about our lives on this planet has been, to a benefiting amount, successful! I have tried to
provide you with an intellectual carnival, full of spiritual and emotional rides that change as you do; making it
new for each visit. As for the life i lived to achieve this, the best explanation i ever wrote was for the fifth,
hundred-copy release of Just Scribbled Words:
My mind is like a city of one way streets
all leading to its center
Poems and parts of poems
and parts of possible poems
stampede frantically
in Twilight Zone redundancy
down each street
and i live
in the dust above the collision
unable
or willing
to control the bits of shrapnel
as they tear through me
writing all that i can hold on to
long enough to slate.
I am not sure if i messed up the blueprints
or the construction
or if the city was already there waiting for me.
My best days are when i scribble frantically
or share those scribblings.
I guess that makes this one of my best days!
Veracious Verse contained poem numbers;
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, 12, 13, 15,16, 17,
22, 23, 26, 27, 29, 31, 44, 47, 50, 52, 55,
56, 57, 67, 70, 72, 73, 74, 81, 82, 84, 95,
98, 99, 109, 111, 112, 147, 150, 172, 176,
191, 208, 210, 212, 214, 216, 222, 223,
228, 236, 244, 248, 249, 250, 252, 267,
290, 304
and the following ones,
which are the only survivors
of the disposal
of volumes V through XII
of the Diary of a Poet series...
Veracious Verse
sold no copies.
That could be why it is so hard
to get published as a poet,
or maybe i just suck at writing
and all my fans have just been too polite
to tell me;
if this is the case,
i apologize for wasting your time...
#311 , #337 , #381 , #413
#693 , #711 , #721 , #817
#825 , #828 , #904
#311
While we wait
people pass
soul windows peer
while we wait
seconds slide
we harbor fear
While we wait
temper turns
feet are tapping
while we wait
memory mourns
its gashes rapping
While we wait
flinches fray
and hearts unfold
while we wait
good goes gray
and we grow old
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#337
Every step
must be taken
it is so far
from fate
every plan
is more than wondrous
though in time
it will not wait
Every breath
should be savored
one will come
that will be last
every moment
that is made
is in motion
quick is passed
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#381
'til death due is part
A thousand words per picture
snapshots fill my mind
ten thousand pages later
my pen still swirling blind
A thousand ship expression
sets sail the storm of night
a million lettered sentence
yet the feeling is not right
A billion thought provocations
horrendous each in mass
a moment's hesitation
a billion more will pass
Inspirations forage
is haste, is waste, is lost
an empty shelf of tablets
in life the fatal cost
A chance, a hope, a vision
in decision only comes
and possible near completion
is ebbed in gray-haired sums!
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#413
Today i re-realize
the risk that life involves
and set my vision inward
as my new man evolves
Today i feel the pressure
that resolution can cause
and allow myself the leeway
to take a needed pause
Today i till my new seeds
and see that some do show
i look at how far i have come
not at how far i have to go
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#693
Fiction and memory
redundancy pure
what, but present
is ever sure?
Goals and dreams
a blurry line
creative honesty
fantasy fine
And who human
can possibly stand
alight on the boundaries
of the promised land
So, what is best
of mortal crime
fantasmal truth
or fact twisted by time?
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#711
Time is just a demon
in disguise
giving us a hope
full of lies
Times says that forever
does not exist
man's concept of now
is on its list
Fate is its puppet
played so well
deceiving in its picture
thus our hell
Time is Satan's demon
his favorite one
delusioning our end
before we have begun
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#721
Pain is such a lonely place
purpled with clouds of fear
hate's heat cracks a heart's thin walls
and collapse is ever near
Anger sears the sensitive soul
and callous cannot be escaped
the combination rots the whole
one's life of love left raped
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#817
I see the glow you wear
you say that it's me
do you take it everywhere
does it set you free
I feel the love you give
do you feel it from me
some say it's a prison cell
i don't want to be free
I just want you all the time
all night and all day
i just want your everything
it's the only way
I've got many looks today
does it glow on me
even offers have come my way
i tell 'em i'm not free
I feel your passion's fire
do you feel it from me
you take away love's pyre
set my spirit free
I just want you all the time
all night and all day
i just want your everything
it's the only way
I just want you all the time
all night and all day
i just want your everything
it's the only way
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#825
P. O. W.
With the borderlines unspoken
it's so hard to watch your step
while you walk the line forever
trying not to fall
When an unnamed rule is broken
and you've got to take the whip
you tell the others never
but they know you only stall
When footsteps disturb the stardust
you lie quivering in bed
while thoughts of acts immoral
rape and pillage in your head
You know insane has surfaced
while you wish somebody else
but you just watch your heart freeze solid
while your spirit melts
You've heard the tales of power
but you know that you have none
there is none you can borrow
none you can dream
You dread every waking hour
but kiss the morning sun
you pray for hope tomorrow
trying not to scream
When footsteps disturb the stardust
you lie quivering in bed
while thoughts of acts immoral
rape and pillage in your head
You know insane has surfaced
while you wish somebody else
but you just watch your heart freeze solid
while your spirit melts
You can hear the distant fire
almost feel its hit
you say you hate the silence
with a passion hot
But you know that you're a liar
and your life is shit
you just wish they'd see repentance
but know they will not
When footsteps disturb the stardust
you lie quivering in bed
while thoughts of acts immoral
rape and pillage in your head
You know insane has surfaced
while you wish somebody else
but you just watch your heart freeze solid
while your spirit melts
With the borderlines unspoken
it's so hard to watch your step
while you walk the line forever
trying not to fall...
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#828
With some cult-like magic
under a pillared sky
they imitate elation
trying not to cry
They got their dirty footprints
on every piece of land
they force their suicide
but say they understand
They make a reaper's gold
out of a blood-bought free
they flaunt it with no conscience
for the world to see
They claim a hero's grave
comes from a coward's soul
they smash it all to pieces
and still swear it's whole
They say they love beauty
in their evil chant
but they destroy more flowers
than the world can plant
They look on with pity
while those around them die
they say they'd like to make it better
but you know they lie
They make a reaper's gold
out of a blood-bought free
they flaunt it with no conscience
for the world to see
They claim a hero's grave
comes from a coward's soul
they smash it all to pieces
but still swear it's whole
They got a hundred reasons
why they're clean inside
but a man escaped from prison
has no more to hide
They brought their suffer
to a peaceful man
they say they'll find forever
but i don't think they can
They make a reaper's gold
out of a blood-bought free
they flaunt it with no conscience
for the world to see
They claim a hero's grave
comes from a coward's soul
they smash it all to pieces
but still swear it's whole
They make a reaper's gold
out of a blood-bought free
they flaunt it with no conscience
for the world to see
They claim a hero's grave
comes from a coward's soul
they tear it all to pieces
but still swear it's whole
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#904
Look what religion has done to God
it makes him sound bitter and cruel
Look what religion has done to man
it puts him forever at duel
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Would love to hear your thoughts on this verse!
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