First published July 31, 2012
No man can be happy for too long
Joy exists in its’ allotted crack of space-time between sorrows
Nano-bytes of life slip from the claws of enduring death
There’s a lot of wandering alone
In search of a nameless something that always beggars
And betrays contentment
In every thought and act
In spite of all deceit and denial
Crushed freedom in the mills that grind on
With scarce rest and scant pause tyranny for all…
There is a balm for the soul
It melts soon enough
The years are crouching and when you look away
They leap and tear at your passions and they claw
The wild signature of time deep into your face.
There’s always regret for your sin
Guilt sinks you like a stone in your gut
Wrapped around the corpse of your crime
Embracing you and your penance as you rot.
Then there’s the regret for all you did not.
So like brother dog, the crude cowboy lacks the aesthetic of the visual arts
But both sit at attention when a beautiful bitch comes to call
And both will lift their yap to the lonesome night
Rear back on heel and paw to howl
And moan…some call it music.
Who here is more like who?
Dogs to humans, or a man to a dog?
God and fate and what you will
And lunatics of every stripe and size
And the devils at the top
And the devils below and all the good men
Who just don’t know what they are doing anymore.
Or have much at all of a clue
Cave men extant in a world that no longer needs what they were
Cause they are the past and if not all gone
They are certainly forgotten as they subsist in their oblivion.
But our time will come again.
This is the promise
And the curse.
Pain and loss
Do your worst
Born in Houston, Texas and moved to Raymondvile, Texas in 1969. Family bought a radio station and helped with the family business until it was sold in 1997. Since then started an agency and mostly writes about experiences in Deep South Texas. Writers of the Rio Grande founder, editor and contributing author.