Monday, October 31, 2011



Volatile and restive planet,

cities are dispatched like

annoying growths

at the end of a surgeon's scalpel,

civilization's handiwork,

marvels of human engineering,

products of tireless effort

delivered to oblivion

within the fleeting grasp of

passing time.


Humanity is but a transient

miniscule passenger

on this vibrant world,

terribly unconvinced about

our theoretical importance,

order delivered to chaos

one moment to the next.

Early Morning on Thasos

Earth thrusts upwards to

ensnare the sky

newly enshrined by

sun's sweet and enabling kiss.


Along the hillside

engulfed in bedrock

white, red-roofed houses

shine softly in the grip

of eastern light.


From a distance

unmistakable chants of roosters

welcome the dawn with

characteristic erudition

chasing the foreboding

dreams of children out of

their sleepy heads


Synchronous sounds of a

multitude of bells

echo off the hillsides

as shepherds move their flocks

to neighboring fields

where no fences intrude.


An old man waits with

patient anticipation for the bread man

as he makes his rounds

along narrow winding village roads

hawking his fresh-baked goods.


Two uniformed girls

books in hand

step out of their houses

still laden with quiet

and walk the path to school.


Early morning on Thassos

mountainess isle in the north agean

enraptures us as willing hostages to

sun, azure skies and emerald water. 

Monday, October 17, 2011

Idle Thoughts on a Wistful Afternoon

Wistful moments entice me, yet

reality continues in pursuit of

all the inescapable consequences of



It is indeed a remarkable planet

circling its star that

delivers life as a simple outcome of

its unruly nature, yet

humanity has no appreciation of this

wondrous bit of magic.


Crows disrupt proud eagle's

carnivorous intentions,

plants yield up their

brilliant flowers to entice

industrious insects and

impale on human vision the

breath of the divine.


Sunday, October 9, 2011

What is the Significance

What is time's significance

within a mindless age,

life's meaning

where escapism is the norm.


Birth, death, aging

packaged for expedience by

marketers of greed,

denial the watchword,

ideas of peace

endentured upon the yoke of

dull and enfeebled acquisition.


What is time's significance

in such and age

where intellect is despised and

wisdom refuted.


Saturday, October 8, 2011

From Cradle to Grave

I'm sitting in the
corner of my cell,
one dim bulb
barely enough light to see
these scrathings on paper.

It's called death row,
they've just turned down my
latest appeal,
my attorney tells me it's
the last.

It could be anytime,
they'll lay me out
strapped down on that insidious gurney
expecting me to resist
as if i don't know that
there is no escape,
as if i don't have a mind of
my own,
as if i can't see the steady, relentless
drumbeat of naked reality,
as if i don't know death,
as if i can't feel his icy presence,
as if i can't recognize death,
my cellmate for all these years.

There never has been any
seventeen years now
in a cage,
gnawing confinement,
relentless and unforgiving boredom,
the endless hours,
the frightening moments.

It's like living
inside out,
viscera exposed,
bones and sinew
raw and beaten,
thoroughly beaten.

That's the way it was
for years,
living with an open wound,

I could have wasted them all,
but i put my mind to use,
it was woefully neglected in the streets
where i was taught,
where we were instructed
in our own self demolition,
where the lessons we learned,
that our lives would come to naught,
that we were not deserving of the effort,
where we were prepared for the grave
and the prison.

I've put my brain to use,
I studied,
I've learned to love knowledge,
to embrace it,
to caress my thoughts,
to nourish them,
even within this insufferable

It is forever cold here
where justice has been thoroughly
where  the only illumination comes from

I am not ready, yet
I am ready.

Don't misunderstand
I don't expect to recover,
to be greeted by angels,
to be be enlisted in the
devil's army,
once the needle is thrust into my
rebelious arm,
once the poison is forced into my
mortal body
whose only goal is survival,
once the light inside my head is
turned off,
I will make that leap
into the abyss of darkness and
return to that place where only
molecules reside.

I didn't kill that storekeeper, but
he had a reputation,
ruthless, brutal and unforgiving,
he hated us for our color
for our swagger,
for our determination to live.

It doesn't matter what i say,
truth is of no consequence
when justice must be served,
for he was white and I am not,
for it is assumed that i am of
little worth,
that was the lesson that
I was expected to learn,
I didn't learn it well.

My guilt or innocence is of
no import,
somebody must be held
they chose me.

I am not bitter,
I gave that up long ago,
far too corrosive.

I have forgiven
all of them although
I can't forget.

This corner of my cell
feels damp and cold,
yet i am comforted by
my thoughts,
I take pleasure in these words
that i scribble with this pen
 i'm not supposed to have
lest i take my own life and
deny justice its opportunity.

I cradle my days,
savor them,
improve my mind,
nurture it,
I have an insatiable hunger for
even though it has not
served me well.

Soon they will come for me
expecting the worst,
they do not understand that
I am a man,
that I am ready.