Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
I slipped on my boots,
Headed out for some loot.
I can settle in the barn,
But not in chair fiddling with some yarn.
Ain't that type to stick around,
Gotta' stand tall, stand my ground.
I wanna' work in the law,
Even if doesn't handle a saw.
I got a truck,
All beat down, like my luck.
I like livin' in the country,
My roots lived here over a century.
The issue is,
The city is where my dream lives.
Packin' up my truck,
Imma let the streets know what just struck!
The pain I put in the ground.
For such a precious thing.
The family enjoys their meal.
They plant their leftover kernels.
And wait for me to tend to them.
An endless cycle in which happiness is born.
21 February 2013
"What's your story?"
"you seem interesting."
I reply, "NOW." (Kwan$aba! Ha! Really,
often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one...
she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone
tho solo she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks
gold flows throughout waves
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
she will divide you
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
baby of zero maybes
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
we never looked back
The man in black alit from the stagecoach that hot and sultry day.
With his hat he brushed dust from his suit as he surveyed old Santa Fe.
He pulled his hat down over his eyes as he strode to the nearby saloon.
Who was this mysterious stranger? A gambler or a business tycoon?
There was a prominent bulge under his coat where a pistol might be.
He carried a fine leather valise, its contents provoking curiosity!
He was clad in the finest cloth and was built like an old rugged oak,
Wore white linen, fine leather boots, topped off with a stylish cloak!
He sat down with a sigh, took off his hat and ordered a bottle of rye.
He took not a nip but said, "Fellows, step up! A drink for you I'll buy!"
That was unusual - free booze - they scarcely knew what to think!
But the town rabble and ne'er-do-wells flew to his table for a drink!
In the meantime, the sheriff received word about this new man in town.
He rushed to the saloon with hands on his rods to calm things down!
"What's yer business here, pilgrim? I don't want any trouble!
If you're here to gamble or pimp, you kin leave town on the double!"
"Calm down, mister sheriff! I aim to help you in maintaining the peace!
To deal with those who flaunt the law and help crime to decrease!
May I introduce myself, sir. I'm the Reverend Mister Percival Brown,
And I aim to settle here and build a Presbyterian church in your town!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Well they done took away ma pension
whilst I waren’t payin no tention.
Never thought thet thar could happen,
Seems ma face they keep a slappin'.
Ah trusted all them folk thet said ah could,
ah took their word like they sed ah should,
but now ah see they jest a bunch a thieves,
Take all ya got and knock ya to yer knees.
Use ta was be you could tell a liar,
plain’s ya could the town crier,
Now they got sneakier ways,
from lots a practice these days.
Them banks and the government’s in cahoots.
Reckon they standin’ in each others boots.
Whisht ah’d a knowed they wuz gonna play those games
Ah’d a set much lower aims.. maybe like …Jesse James.
Done asked a lawyer onced bout business and ethics.
He laughed and said “Bob, business and ethics don’t mix!”
Never heered anybody say that right out loud…
Still laughin’ at me,.. he walked away proud.
Yep, maybe I’d a set much lower aims…
Reckon I’d a understood… Jesse James.
With choice will grasp its fundamental pull
In time we can replace its timely spin of the wheel
In comfort its cup will long to protect the innocents blade
With love comes a pulse with gravitational pull
On Eagles Wings comes a flood of dispensational thought
One hand to hold a heart will mend
No silver spoon nor heart by which to mend
From the cradle to the grave its communicative salve
Through its hungry thought provoking apathy
In chambers of ghosts in sullen degree
A simple grasp at the evenings homily
In caged bars grasped its silver spoon
Shallow promises we used to thrill
On eagles wings the sea does thrill
Out on its fresh scenic brigade a steam train will
In haunting neglect reflect then stay near shore
Frightened by the ambiance drifting a shore
What you do here, is your job, life, future and health.
Without each one of these, there will be no wealth.
Apply and learn each day that you live and breathe.
Give your all in whatever you do, protect with a sheave.
Don’t ever think, what you do, is just a plain job.
If you let this happen, it is your soul, spirit you rob.
What you do makes a difference, in someone’s life.
What mistakes you make, causes someone strife.
So take a new look, at what you do, every day for pay.
Take pride, take revelation look, and see life’s display.
Give thanks for all the work you do, with praise or not.
For without you and what you do, everything is for naught.
Tumbleweed Billy And One Eyed Sam
Banked off jagged hills, pushed on by memory
Cause and effect took turns churning the sidewinders
Tumbleweed Billy and One Eyed Sam (The patron Saint of snake eyes)
Dragged down from on high by a freak flood
Through swollen gorges flushed with raging waters
From melted mountain snow with a long way to go
Two cowpokes gathered up by ancient storms without warning
Compounding the Pounding past the sandy canyonous rocks
Crashing through dams along the flooding passage
Tumbleweed Billy and his one eyed friend rolled into town
They came to rest at Rusty Bottom, a dusty town
Released their grip on a sturdy timber log
That brought them there all wet and muddied
With wind against their backs
That swept them up to view the Last Chance Saloon
Looming over there
This brought them to their feet to mossy over
They moved like prestidigitation fakes, hankering for a drink
Taking whiskey down like magic water
Then set out their pedestrian plan there on the table
To take this western town down by gambling pranks
Quick digits formed their sleight of hand
Children suddenly appeared before the strangers
Seemingly from nowhere on the action
The two cowpokes glanced back at them like spies
Sam scared them with his missing eye
Covered by a black patch, looking kinda pirate like
The other clouded, milky white, piercing, with limited sight
Billy grants the young ones wishes on the spot to settle them
Magic to be perfected and performed above a pending storm
He rolls one die. A one comes up. A snake eye
An omen more visible than not
This made the children fear an awful lot
Dice played a major role for his desires and devices
He kissed them twice for luck then vanished in their cast
Tumbleweed Billy rolled out of Rusty Bottom Town
Taking his dice and the bad eyed man
In a singular milky white last lost glance around
On the same south winds now gone from town
Both sidewinders de-materialized, vanished in that instance
As though they never existed
Invisible, never seen before, never seen again, as foe or friend
As for the children; who gambled on the chance of magic
Got exactly what they asked
And what was granted when they first wished it
For the two to disappear
Tumbleweed Billy and Sam were gone as quickly as they came
And no one really missed them or their game
That is; their tricks, dice and way of life
Their little slice of paradise
9/16/14 Cowboys in the badlands – Poetry contest
Circuitous im sure
Who doesn't save to live?
Bet on the future
To ignite drive
let me switch gears
been idling in no man's land
Unapproved though prequalified (yarr)
Time to reside
but sentinals hawk my glance
Chance must be played
In a casino loft
Human rights im sure
To free trade agreement
What about squatter's rights?
To eat and breathe
Anguish taunts through a barbed wire fence with edged grasp
Actions in which human beings rebel against a holy God
Miss their purpose for their lives
Surrender to the prince of the power of the air more then God
Cause all of their deeds were evil!
An eclipse of the sun had tainted my inner vision
Push back the pain with radiant guide
Does this notion in thought come at any big surprise?
Weak willed tyrants from the flood of dispinsation
Shattered fragments loosed in gloom climatic abrasion
Parts unknown from the setting of the sun
Leading gullible women captive under the false cloak of compromise
Abortion on demand
When will they ever understand?
Blood shed in our streets
Evil tyrants from elected officials overly prideful taunt & pull!
We each our responsible for our actions before a holy God
Shallow pools cloven tide within heightened scale to oblige
Some may choose to run away & hide?
Within its sought manifestation a lethal side will play
Although amidst its horrific grasp in time
Nearer toward the notion of extravagance,
Through tests with divers thoughts in escalating
In deeper shallow pools the timeless conquest of rest
As if a caged rat that was hidden in a tiny hole would vent
The inner change from haste we will wait to end its test
To become transparent amidst ivy briars would grasp;
With thorns pierced to skull to dull its inflated rhyme...
See, I think different then most
A sorted lost seagull flying outside on the coast
I am an invisible man.
Try and see me if you can.
Shy and quiet I remain alone.
Silent is my voice’s tone
No one can feel my pain and sorrow
As I hide inside of my burrow.
Shadows consume my body and soul
As I embrace the misty cold.
The reason for my unseen being
Lies in the fact I hate being seen.
This life and existence’s of my own choice
And I choose not to have a voice.
I am silent. Invisible. Inexistent.
Yet I am invincible, an immortal being
A young man of 18, seeking his fame,
Did dare to pursue with confidence anew,
His American dream serving those who flew.
Eight years toil amongst fuel spills, gravel and soil,
He sought to secure that elusive American dream.
A financial novice with hopes to spare,
His opponents drew him like a fox to the snare,
Lending him funds with assurances repleat,
Then pouncing upon him publicly to hasten his defeat.
Now a complaint or two they may have,
Indeed not a every pound could be repaid,
And tarnish and slander his name they would try,
Even speak ill of dear 'ol mom,
But the last laugh you see my friend,
Will be found in his copyright of this poem,
Titled simply GregCrook.com
Lent spent pond
graven fete bitter
burden led folds…
for all garner murmur…
… engraft ergo…
sole garlic bred toads…
Bright blue skies on a spring day
Fulfills my horizon
Blue birds and robins pass me by
Mountain, trees, and animals
Priase God Abroad
The frsh air bring forth calmness
A quiet serene a waits my soul
Red orange and violets
Represents God's glory
Flowers slowly rise with the sun
And water crickets sings songs of glory
Fresh water arises with the scent
Of of sweet savory of God's spices
Beach rolls in the lazy tide
I sit back and enjoy it all
The art of spring is glorification
Of all tings God created
He's the world famous artist
were riding the range.
The March of Rhymes
Although the notion of the twilight sun had tainted my crystal clear vision
Was there something else you have been missing
The hero calls to yonder shore once again all alone;
As if a stray dog is in search of its bone,
The march rhymes lives among a passing few;
A papal pew decorated in the brilliant ambiance of fun,
With a certain crimsome tide to come undone,
Just after a police chase we so often will run to & fro;
Amidst the delicate fragrance of an ego,
Within smiles of timeless chartered words;
A center of reflection in the vast pyramid filled with choice,
Let us further linger in the fullest madness & rejoice
A pleasant smile still we each knew all the while;
The sore vexed temperment on the loose with cannon
The march of rhymes we shall succeed so many times
On a blade of grass she made me wait;
Some may even call this fate,
A lovely fragrant scent of fallen early morning rain;
As bullets fly through the ambiance movement in sky
Some just settle for peanut butter & jelly;
When all the while they can have a nice ham on rye,
The march od rhymes sings as the time passes by
Sometimes its just not enough but for to give it one last try?
Through various trials in life many tend to give up on the fight
Other have frolic in the ambiance of spite
Still some resist this form of logic & truly live
A vested tendency & need to forgive
We spill our hearts out on the burgeous sea
A kiss of death with noted Judas with Jesus
A sin so costly it ended his fate
With promise of a ressurection far too late
A kiss of death fresh out on the painted canvas
With sweat of brush stroke to quench the desire
A kiss of death in modest apparel
In want of appease through dense torn leaves
In wallow of a forest in a grand chasm
In moments were one can't even fathom
Through lips tied among the chartered course to pull
A regime of strife & reluctant pull
In regards to a promise that was once made in the dark'
It had lit the fullest spark to what it was I have been waiting for
A great gulf fix hence the vast opened door
A given chance to finally explore
The notion in logical persuasion & more!
Trust in madness reach the flame.
The whole wide world is totally insane;
We elect leaders that live for pain
Living for self reliance in greed for gain,
We plot our course marked on a blotted page
To falter in the truth of the matter
We build a shelter amidst the fallen shade
We long for a social uprise yet fall headlong into its blade of suicide
Eternity is forever amidst the climatic weather
Forces to shelter the helpless beggar
We stand on truth amidst a loose tooth,
Shattered dreams pomp in circumstancial quest
The world will like you as long as you do something for them
They often lie in wait to deceive as they brustle through the leaves;
We often will call evil good and good evil
We only accept what that is trivial,
A shoulder to cry amidst the pain,
Torn to shreds loose heads;
A notion of darkness amidst the light
Marked on a blotted page although most fully intact.
Under a witch’s moon
blows the wind that blows within
she sings her songs
in out of tune
In her troubled heart
sorrow blows across her soul
on a restless storm
going . . . . away
Her slender shoulders carry weight
who looks inside and weeps
God you were a friend
a river winding
through valleys dark
where you have gone
Where endless deserts end
sand catches between her toes
scuffing pretty plumes
of prismed moonlight
Shelter lies dormant to its beckoning call,
In ellusive formation in a dream
Colors in elaborate decorum which bleed
Trees in tormented flight with arched husks;
In clever ambiance a spool of thread
Shattered by darkness proned to fear
With desolate madness in vanquished tear;
Such were the promises in ardent spring,
Chimes of cold bells would ring;
Vanquished from the burden of the innocence in flight
Aloof, to weak willed vile intention;
Would seek to learn at my next confession,
Words in elaborate decayed form;
In bitter silence to its beckoning call,
Our dreams are not enough through ivy briars;
Thorns in desolate persuasion,
In damnable heresy proned to desolation;
Yet to view a butterfly in flight with parched sphere
Often the sequence of thought is clogged by that of compromises
Twisted message within its sequential valiant,
With thick briars torn to bitter ashes sway;
Tempted in the inner torn muck of persuasion.
One must never harden themselves by its rudimentary purpose
Goals in accomplishing trust & cooperation
Since the old days had Cain;
Let me be the first to explain,
All is shifting sand to equate its timely devisive plan
How does one equate both logic with fear
A deepened sense of inferiority & inadequacy
Interferes with the attainment of your hopes;
But self confidence leads to self realization & successful achievement
Through an opened window lies a heavy curtain
Yet not for certain,
A true source of communication;
To look within leaves a reproach without...
The common man so often will bitch & pout
Yet for the individual,
As a high soaring eagle flys overhead through the sky;
Split please to appease in rudimentary disease...
A passing delicate stride to recapture our youth in viable regret
Yet the individual still stands proud;
Through variation & solace;
A timely sorted bargain basement deal...
A look back at the sky toward the grand spinning wheel,
Standing tall amidst the agony & pain lest I shall refrain a distant scorn to shame!
Through a slight peep hole in a door ellusive to the actual norm
In the future one can exhibit a flair for faith amidst evil
Within great credible eye witness to achieve
Through a sorted variation in a dream
Although the twilight sun had tainted my inner vision
In a whirlwind of descretion we falter in confessing
Although for the moment no shoulder to cry
A sorted dilemna in a blink of an eye
A sought after excursion
Isolationism in the midst of something supernatural
Deep within every human heart there beats a common melody
Through a spring of melodic yearning design
Many interpret the golden rule as control
They simply negate a philosophy & self consideration to ever know
Many as of late have been proned in tears
Yet in effect those very tears have removed all known fears
All of us live as in some isolated nomadic state
Far from our home in eternity so will embrace the temporal
We all must determine in love what will become
Hence in deep retrospect to its given outcome
Many like to control others due to pride
The god of this world has blinded their eyes so they suffer in deep silence alone!
To deceive is to believe the lie
The lie that actually claims I am what I do?
To believe is to have faith yet
Faith isn't intellectualized it just is,
In the storms of life amidst the strife we stake our claim
Not to ever play the blame game
Although we must confess,
The angels almost blushed while in a rush
Painted pony's with strange eskimo's'
Delightful days of getting lost in some purple haze;
The trip is on as we sing our final song
Filtered through its ellusive embrace;
In special reasons while lost in space
End times we claim the mark
The mark of the beast in sullen asps which fright in the night
Having long hanging viscous fangs that bite
We maybe living in the final days of evil
Shades of pine fallen asunder warm to lightning or was it thunder?
The vastness of the prairies
Grassed and green
As far as the eye can see
Grace the lands
Of the Big Country
Ranches so large
It takes days to ride
Herds so colossal
Long horned steers
Browned and white
Like the buffalo
An incredible sight
The open range
Inhabit with new
Sheep farmers arrive
With vast herds
And flocks of sheep
Big Countries land
No longer deep
The Homestead Act of 1862
Led to the need, to feed us humans too
Ranchers diversified, and farmed as well
As the Big Countries population began to swell
The prairie lands as big as they are
Could never sustain the bovine stars
Organisation would eventually fold
As grazing rights, the government sold
No more roaming for these herded souls
Fenced off ranches, the modern goal
Barbed wire in 1874
Kept the herds, and they roamed no more
You have to admire the land of the free
Make that journey take a look and see
Vast prairies for past ranchers be
The Big Country
trees stand as guards
somewhat staggered afar
every brown branch silent
near but not disturbed
somewhere large needle cones
passing through a tunnel
and someplace a calm lake
curling waves pounding shorelines
survived silence above paths
and uncovered tracks
branches rustle in the wind.
Copyright ©2006 Thomas G. Valle
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.
You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.
Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.
Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.
She cried because her insides had been torn into two.
She wanted it and she couldn't front that she didn't but it made her change in so many
This time it would change her for the rest of her life. She regretted it for a second
until it was over, You could see it on her face a look of pain and depression.
Oh we know oh we know if we didn't we wouldn't be true friends.
She didn't even eat, she stared at us and watched as we noticed the little signs that
told us something was the matter.
I could close my eyes and invision just what she was going to say, she wasn't the
pure girl I once knew and I was even afraid to ask her about it.
Got caught up in a moment in time and clothes came off and before it ended she was no
longer a good girl.
I smiled and laughed at her all together, proud and sad and shocked just like
But what was inside I will never know will she be ok? Will she ever be
whole again? I feel it and I know that she will be alright she has the support of a
thousand soilders that will rap that blanket tight.
But sometimes I wonder if it's ending soon we all lose it some day but why did it have
to be now? Why did it have to be so soon?