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2/3/2015 7:01:15 AM Bob Atkinson Posts: 294	Goodbye to All (a goodbye poem to Rod McKuen) - by Bob Atkinson goodbye to all who now remain I've done a race which gave me pain also, with some pure delight it gave me gladness to die tonight goodbye to those who could not come will meet you someday on the run from things you did there in the past yes, you forever grabbed my ash goodbye those who took the wine and kissed all goodness there aside bringing into focus all your vibes of correctness in your stride you kicked the can aside goodbye to lovers of the past gave to you my foolish pouts didn't mean I locked you out my role was that of circus clown goodbye to relatives of which was many didn't ever ask a penny you didn't give me much of time didn't mix your lives with mine goodbye to dreams of future grace wasn't in my mournful race I tried to do things that would last but fell face flat there on the track goodbye to those I never knew perhaps they'll read my death review yes, treat me kind in words of praise though never read good words on page goodbye to you who read my lips lips still, not moving in love's quips I never said much anyway so you didn't notice I'm deranged
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3/19/2015 10:19:54 AM Bob Atkinson Posts: 294	A tribute to Paul Simon's "Homeward Bound" Home in a Dark Box - by Bob Atkinson overarching adventure grabbed me by an ear dragging me 'cross a new world from home to staggered fears not fears of dissolution as a being here on earth merely reduced my shadow to some small patch of footprint's dirt made me one of many who set out to survive absorbing trust of community an idea for which we strive found myself not with good skills in some situations prearranged following footsteps of men adept got lost in life's shell game endowed with luck of fortune needed to persevere or, if you will, continue life for another year worked well for me, though always saw success beyond my grasp did as well as could have done based on skills learned in years past through a time of detachment fighting hard to make the grade found survival's cost excessive in grabbing onto victory's parade settled then with open arms a miracle made of stages thought things could substitute for my need to propagate creation traded sense of order for that time of sad reflection until my open ended dreams came back to full fruition sense of duty well defined create something that might last no matter if found useful do as others did in years past and now, to that real question does life penetrate this facade? or will my time of luxury end in my grave's dark box?
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7/17/2015 12:28:57 PM Bob Atkinson Posts: 294	Pins and Needles - by Bob Atkinson prior to this opening I feel so well aware of distant pulsations devoid of titled flair I see in moving backwards moving forward in the mix revising preconditions devoted to my list of things to do this morning attention thereby given to a score which tallies undulating motions shooting through an open door on pins and needles I await some feelings in cool darkness without which cannot be described tangible emotional progress
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