Archive for May, 2012

A Short and Illustrated Thought #14

Posted in Photography, Sagrada Família, Uncategorized on May 28, 2012 by smpiv


                I pray for my salvation for fear that

                I may fall by the wayside only to lose

                                my humanity to that which I once was.

                To a Goliath that even David could not fell.

                My trod a thunderous clap indiscriminate

                In its peel—the sound of warning for an

                Act incomplete.


I pray for a better day when the scythe

wielding angel greets us with the seed of

this Earth.  The Apple and skull set side

By side satiates to hungers past and present.

That which we reap will be for the future,

Not to lay fallow.


                I pray for mountains seas and skies that

                Undulate with the heat and cold.

                The passing seasons making the rise and fall

                Of another year and I to follow that

                Sacred course my season sprinkled with the salt

                Of manly time.  Disheveled and tired I watch

the fall of the leaves.


I pray for shelter against the cold.  My

Hunger rich for the suffering for I fear

I have not suffered enough.  Heat rises

Turbulent in its ascension only to

Dissipate clashing with the cold and

                Rain it must.


                I pray for umbrage in lieu of the light of my

                Desires.  Make me weak, make me strong

                Sing my praises only with my passing.  Trumpet

                My standing only with mocking tribute

                For what have I done?  Remember me down

                The road for I touched you only as I

                Know how.


I pray for understanding that will never

Come. For those who seek not and wish

For the best, I pray the hardest.  Distant

                Drummers beckon with a whim.  Find him

                And your trail is long, your crumbs long since



                I pray for rain on the clearest days

                The hours accumulation of days, the

                Droplets pocking the earth in ardent

                Desire and faith.  Our feet rarely get

                                Wet, we wrap ourselves to avoid the

                Muddy waters.  Our feet must

Be bared, scratched and soaked.


                                I pray that you will walk with me

                Over the deepest waters, the loftiest

                Heights and the lowest lows.  Barefoot

                                We will soak out feet in the water,

The feather and the light of our journey

                                In hope of hopes for answers not,

                                But questions that seek no answers.


                                                Walk with me.


A Short and Illustrated Thought #13

Posted in Astronauts, black coffee, Photography, Russel Wright, Tang, Uncategorized on May 26, 2012 by smpiv

Black Coffee

Astronauts must drink Black Coffee,

You can’t navigate space with sugar and cream.


Ah, Tang and Black Coffee,

The stuff men are made of.

Black Coffee

A Short and Illustrated Thought #12

Posted in Photography, suicide on May 22, 2012 by smpiv

The littlest one lay dead

Her little head resting in her bed

One shot clean through the head.


The three others had fled

To a neighbor their eyes now pled.


Come back to me my little flock, said Mama

Just down the block.


With patient feet they walked to a certain fate.

They passed one by one through the front gate.


Mama’s face lit with pride

As she ushered them inside.


The door shut tight to prying eyes.


Pop, pop, pop

Three little birds dropped dead



One left for Mama through the head.


Why Mama?  Why?

It should only be suicide.


Blessed are the children,

Damned be that woman.

A Short and Illustrated Thought #11

Posted in Cirencester, Photography on May 8, 2012 by smpiv

A dark cloud visited today,

Leaden gray.

It’s not supposed to happen this way.


Fifty three years young,

but not much more.


Up the stairs, down the stairs,

Boxes full of life.

An apartment now empty,

I talked to her mother,

and gave her a hug.


The sun will rise tomorrow

I tell myself,

and set all the same.


It’s cruel twists like this

that leave us to wonder why.

Why is it we die?


Mercy, mercy me.

A Collection of Short and Illustrated Thoughts #2

Posted in Boys of Sherwood, Cas, Hooker, Lumpy, Mono, Sherwood Forest, Uncategorized on May 8, 2012 by smpiv

The entrance for sand covered beach children,

The exit for illicit midnight rendezvous,

The cause of many bloody knees up or down,

The backsteps


Cas, Lumpy, Mono, Hooker, Scotty and on—

We would sit on the rail for hours

And bake in the sun.

We were the Boys of Sherwood.

We still are,

We just don’t sit as long.


The Senior Clubroom was a coming of age,

If fourteen can be called a coming of age.

We guarded it like a sacred object

And abused it like an old Volkswagen.


The invisible tiger roamed free,

The fence was never there.

My Mimi always feared for our safety.

Up went the fence and

So went the way of the tiger.


The reservoir sat protected on all sides by trees,

The wind passed high overhead.

When it froze it was like glass.

All shattered when the levy broke.

Fish were in the trees and mud everywhere,

But the frogs—where were the frogs?

I’ve always wondered what happened to the frogs.


The diving board is dedicated to Rick Cumberpatch,

Who died in Vietnam.

I don’t know how he died or when.

I don’t even know if he dove,

But I have always pictured him diving from that board—

Again and again.


I have seen the fall of so many things I thought eternal.