On the Road Again

I have resided on Allred Road.

Yes, it had its share of rednecks.

I lived on Bay Harbor.

No Bay or Harbor to be seen.

I once dwelled on Fantasy Lane.

My, time does wane.

I spent time on a County Road.

It was in the county this road.

But I’m moving on up to Easy Street.

I hope we will soon meet.

Or maybe Love Street.

That would be a treat Morrison.

I suppose Electric Avenue is an option.

But I’ll use caution.

I love the thought of Seven Bridges Road.

But the Eagles might goad.

Of course, 52nd Street is a possibility.

Just ask Billy Joel.

Copperhead Road is not for me.

Sorry Mr. Earle.  I don’t like snakes or spiders.

Neither is Baker Street or Ammonia Avenue.

Positively 4th Street intrigues.

You knew it would right Dylan.

That Highway 20 Drive is not for me.

Sounds a little sad.

I could do the E Street Shuffle.

For sure Bruce.

Brickyard Road would serve well.

But I try not to dwell in the past.

Camelot once an option to see.

It’s lost its appeal to me.

Blue Jay Way is cool.

But I can’t seem to find it on maps.

Dixie Avenue must be in the South.

All things considered I’ll pass.

I guess I’ll just stay where I am.

On a Red Dirt Road in Bama.

Anyone know a Highway Man?



An April Shower

It was an April shower.

That sent us inside for an hour.

That’s where I met a May flower.

Immediately, I knew you to be the one.

The one who shone like the sun.

Beautiful, smart, and fun.

It was as if time stopped.

You were the mystery, I’d adopt.

My heart’s love finally unlocked.

Your smile gave you the style.

Looking into your isle of eyes, made my life worthwhile.

And I felt complete when you walked down the aisle.



Lit Your Fuse

You once said I lit your fuse.

Now you just feel used.

If only I’d seen the clues.

Your love only a ruse.

You win and we lose.

Just another notch for the blues.

I’ll dare not breathe the news.

To your new muse.

Let him discover the hidden dues.

The long nights of verbal abuse.

And the heartbreak that will ensue.

He seduced his noose.

Now let me vamoose.




It seems I lost control.

Of my soul.

Life takes a toll.

So, my soul took a stroll.

To Seoul, to read a scroll.

But someone stole said scroll.

Disappointed, my soul went to a local watering hole.

To extol and to be consoled.

Still my soul soon lost social control.

It must have been the rock and roll.

That made my soul throw up in the toilet bowl.

My soul had to re-sole.

At least that was the goal.

But my soul could not cajole the patrol.

And wound up in a sinkhole.

Where he found a loophole.

It enrolled in quality control.

And was put in the title role,

Of my heart and soul.

What was once out of my control.

Is now on cruise control.

A beautiful peace of mind unfolded to my soul.



Death Awaits

The rumor is death awaits.

I’d like permission to be late.

They say it’s everyone’s fate.

But I refuse to participate.

I’ll be happy to wait.

Saint Peter can close the gate.

You see I’m not an advocate.

And I will delegate those traits.

No need to investigate.

Or demonstrate.

I hope this resonates.

I would like to illuminate my death date.

So, let that end all debate.



The God Enzyme

If heaven is the mission.

Give a listen.

Talking to God will make you glisten.

Talking about his grace,

Will make your heart race.

And put a smile on your face.

Enjoy His precious fleeting moment.

And giving him praise.

Will fill your days.

And change your ways.

So, don’t waste time.

Get the God enzyme.

It’s a divine rhyme for thine.



A Magical Tale

The old guy said, I have no destination or time restraints.

I’m just along for the ride.

You see soon I’ll be out of this life.

Time has no hold on me.

The journey is the kite.

And I’m the flight.

You see I mattered not.

My family denies I exist.

I let that worry me for years.

But I got rid of those fears.

My family now is the dead.

Yep, that’s what I said.

I call them a family of love.

That float down from above.

The dead come around.

Talk to me when I’m down.

Some even act like clowns.

They are my angels, and they sing and dance.

Some are even from France.  Some even prance.

Why, I’ve met dead rock stars and dead Presidents.

Even ancient Gods and ascended ones.

They let me in on the mysteries of life.

And help me eliminate strife.

I never get bored.

In fact, I’m adored.

They light my path.

And never let me down.

They make me believe in love.

And that I’m enough.

My life is full and happy.

So, sit a talk a spell.

And I’ll spin you a tale.

A tale of hope.

A tale of some sailing Spirits.

It’s a magical tale.

And I tell very, very well.



Erase, a Disgrace

Nothing left to seek.

Nothing left to know.

Nothing satisfies.

A life without meaning.

A life undefined.

A life incomplete.

That feeling of emptiness.

That feeling of isolation.

That feeling of darkness.

A soul departed long ago.

A soul broken in pieces.

A soul no one helped.

The sound no one hears.

The suicide no one understands.

The sands of time erase, a disgrace.



Try Not to Worry

At what point did I lose me?

How could I have been so blind?

Blind?  Stupid, would be more accurate.

Then, I continued to deny what my eyes were seeing.

You played me for a fool.

And I let you. 

What you didn’t see was I didn’t give a fuck.

About what you did.

As long as you left me in peace.

But still, you must think me the biggest idiot on earth.

Which makes me laugh.

Because now you’re someone else’s bad dream.

And I find comfort in that reality.

But I won’t forget bitches! 

Let me say that with malice of heart.

To both of you.

One day when you least expect it.

I will insist upon the truth.

From both of you.

And if you speak the truth.

I may show mercy.

To  you or both of you.

But I have my doubts about being able too.

Until we meet again.

Try not to worry.

I’m in no hurry.



The Undone Ones

Add one, then subtract one. You get three.

I can’t prove it. Can’t you see.   

And so rightfully, frightfully, called new and improved.

That’s me.

I’m a model A or a model T or I could be a model X.

What’s in a name?  A number.  What’s in a number.

The answers to secret questions no one speaks of.

The secret alphabet of illusion.  Alphabet soup for the foolish.

An endless loop of loop the fate.

A leap of faith.  Two lumps of hope.  Add Crystals of hope to help you cope.

Cope with  the dope. Cope with  Pope. 

A rough diamond of hope. 

A new code of hope.  To help you cope.  Dope of hope.

The drug of the shining bright ones.

The undone ones.   The crazy like me of course.



Gratitude with an Attitude

Gratitude with an attitude.

Leads to unselfish sharing with the multitude.

Which leads to smoke, fire, and dreams that fulfill out desires.

And that can have an unintended consequence with sequence of the flow of golden synergy.

An induction of ultimate seductions of the soft energy function.

Behold, multiple lines of icommunication opening and functioning as one powerful fiery son.

And you will be ringing hell’s bells for free forever, and ever.  Magic hell’s bells.  Son and everyone.

So just settle down and feel.  Get real.  And deal.  The deal has already been sealed.



Oh well, it’s been a good day in hell
And tomorrow I’ll be glory bound


Read “Good Day in Hell” by Eagles on Genius

Dictate Words

The computer wouldn’t say dirty words.

 It put little asterisks.

But Roger said dirty words and did not put asterisks.

We can’t say dirty words to the computer.

Who wrote the code for the computer?

Word won’t let you type a dirty word.

Someone should inform Bill Gates about this opportunity.

There must be a solution.

But they wouldn’t listen.

Because they’re full of dirty words.

Oh, my goodness what has the world come to

Dirty words. dirty words .

So, I think I’ll make some clean words up wash rinse and dry.

Oh, oh heck I think it’s Beck, spell check that’s not what I said.

This is called dictating, is that a dirty word?

Just the front part.

What about the back part?

OMG, I said Tate does not dick.

I said dictate.

But I remember when my name wasn’t a dirty word.

Do you?

So, let me tell you the solution.

Therefore, if we forget about the past, we’re bound to repeat it.

And indeed, we are doing just that.

But word won’t dictate **** .

See what I mean jellybean!

I can’t say ********** hell.

 You just said it.

But word wouldn’t write it.

What happened to freedom of speech?