......I welcome 
Wonderful whimsical wishes 
Am often drunk on hypnotic wisdom 
And fucked by words 
I let them have me 
Grab me 
Delve deep inside 
And fill me up 
Til I cream 
Spilling forth from spastic seams 

......Dayum Hendricks is rocking my speakers 
Guitar strings producing magical melodies 
Of insane rhythms that have no beginning or end 
~I admire his freedom 
To take music and make it an extension of himself 
Sharing his soul with each chord 
Plucking out his pain 
And pouring it into the air through sound 
~Sound that surrounds me 
Envelops me 
As it seeps into my ears 
And finds its way to my spine 
~I wonder did he see God 
I mean all engrossed in his music 
Eyes closed 
Fingers gripping/ripping the instrument 
~Was God his muse? 
His inspiration? 

.......For God has been mine 
Certainly in my writing I mean 
But so has music & the musicians that garner it. 
I borrow their talent 
They are my muse 
As is life 
And love 
And insight 
And knowledge 
And humanity 

......Blues 
Wow....Sometimes blues 
Tap on my heart 
Reminding me that pain is universal 
And no one escapes 
Singing its song 
For its rhythm is a chord we all know 
Strumming along its wire 
Reverberating in acoustic sound 
Slow 
Methodical 
Chord change vibe 
Vibe 
Vibin' off 
Deep blue pain 

.....What if... 
What if... 
I took words and meant what they say? 
Instead of hiding them under the guise of verse 
Composed of simile 
And infused with metaphor 
~If I actually didn't allow words to betray me 
would I still be considered a poet? 
Maybe I'm no poet at all 
Just a word wrangler 
Or a thought tangler 

.....Do I have the poet's esthetic? 
Or am I just emptying lies? 
Does having a way with words 
Give me license to subscribe, 
(Or scribe if you will) 
Metaphoric proverbs to pander so solicitously? 

.....I wonder