Friday, December 30, 2011

Dark Days

Dark Days
By: James Dubeau

Staring into the darkness
Can’t tell if my eyes
Are open
Or closed
Rain rattles against the window
Closing me in
Cutting off
The rest of the world
Wetness wells in my eyes
Shivers down my body
I don’t want to be alone
Not right now
Not on these dark days

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

September 23, 2011

September 23, 2011
By: James Dubeau

You never know
What this world
Has in store
From one day
To the next
This day started
Just like any other
Minor aches and pains
Bitching about work
One job then the other
But yet
When the day was over
It all no longer mattered
For all of life
And all the realities
Came striking down
When I got the call
From my good friend
That my good friend
His wife
Was dead

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

End Over End

End Over End
By: James Dubeau

Monday I went to the gym for my strength assessment. I had been warned by a buddy of mine that they would make me hurt. Nevertheless I went in expecting to make it through the entire time with the personal trainer. I was wrong.

First off he asked what I normally use for cardio. When I told him I prefer treadmills he promptly put me on an elliptical and cranked up the resistance. Next he introduced to an upside down squat press machine. After the first set I said the weight was at the maximum of my comfort zone so he replaced the weights with much larger ones and told me to do it again. Then it was free standing squats, he held my hips down in the second set. The straw which broke this camel’s back was the fifteen pushups. Those halted the workout and left my stomach turning end over end.

Having at least one day of being queasy at the beginning of a new exercise regime seems to be par for the course for me. This time around I had hoped to not be left two steps away from vomiting. A queasy stomach is something which I abhor. Anyone who knows me well knows that when I vomit it sounds like I’m having sex because all they hear is me shouting “Oh God” several times before each upheaval.

At this point all I can do is soldier on. Over time strength and endurance will build and I’ll be able to make it through a full exercise routine. As for now I’m like a child in early December who wants it to be Christmas. Why can’t I have the presents already?

Monday, December 26, 2011

Here We Stand

Here We Stand
By: James Dubeau

Here we stand
In a line
One step
At a time
To stand
The porcelain
Mounted upon
The wall

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Bad Habits

Bad Habits
By: James Dubeau

Please excuse us while we interrupt the creative writing with some actual blogging.

Over the past six months I have fallen back into the bad habits which I had worked so hard to leave behind in the previous six months. Eating out was always the easy alternative to grocery shopping and cooking for myself. Finding time to exercise became increasingly difficult after acquiring a new job with still working the old one. Writing had fallen by the wayside too with less poetry being posted upon the blog until the posts had all but stopped.

We are now once again at the end of the year. A time in which people commonly reevaluate their lives and habits while creating a list of resolutions to improve upon things. Hopefully at some point before the start of a new year I’ll actually create a list of New Year Resolutions. As for now I’ve started making some changes. After work I decided to finally join a gym.

Right now I’m in the early stages but I’m thinking of running the 2012 Madison Marathon. I know that after I ran the last one I swore that I would never do it again. The time commitment at the end does become a huge drain. However planning to run a marathon is a great reason to kick start an exercise regimen and gives me a goal. I’ll have to run it faster than I did last year.

As of right now I’ll plan on running the Madison Marathon on May 27, 2012. Over the next few months I’ll blog my progress at least once a week here. I’ve also wanted to do a photo timeline where I take a picture of myself every so often to see how things change over the course of time. These running blogs will be a good of place as any to track these changes.

It was hard to get back onto the horse today. I have only run a handful of times over the past six months. I am back to the same square one that I was at a year ago. If I include my warm-up and cool-down I actually made it to 5k. That being said my speed was much slower and there was a lot more walking then I would have liked, I was doing about 5.5 mph with 2 minutes of walking every 10 minutes. All that can really be said was that this was a start. Maybe not the best start ever, but at least I am now onto the right track. Hopefully over the course of the next week I’ll be able to make it the full 5k without counting the warm-up and cool-down. As of right now I fear the soreness which will most likely ravage my poor legs in the morning. Hopefully I did enough stretches tonight.

Monday, December 19, 2011


By: James Dubeau

In the pit
Of my stomach
A turning
Anguish screams
Wanting to be freed
Bile rises
Matching mass unpleasantness
Wracked against my body
Staggered steps
Across the cool linoleum floor
Bring closer
The porcelain end
However temporary
To this wretched
Three times
The sickness flows
Chunky meat
Swirl about the bowl
Followed by
Fleeting relief

Monday, December 12, 2011


By: James Dubeau

How’s it going
And all that stuff?
I just heard
Through the grapevine
That you were drinking
Late last night.
Am I to assume
That this is due
To the same shit
That has been going on?
I ask because
I care.
I ask because
I want to make sure
You are playing safe.
I ask because
I want you to always remember
You have friends out there.
If you ever need to talk
No matter what time of day
Or night
just give a shout out.
If you ever need anything
Anything at all
I'm here for you
My friend.

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

Mirror Mirror

Mirror Mirror
By: James Dubeau

Who is this guy
Looking back at me
From this mirror
He is not someone
Whom I recognize
Not with his
Tired eyes
Gray hair
Haggard demeanor
But yet
He copies my movements
Down to the tiniest detail
Only in reverse
My left arm
Is his right
My dark soul
Is his bright
Anything I try to do
He does better
And with a smile
Without getting tired
Of all that
Which drives a man
Down the paths
Which I have marched
And will march again
Until the end
Of time

Monday, November 14, 2011

In Black Alley

In Black Alley
By: James Dubeau

In black alley
I stood alone
When year’s first flakes
Began to fall
A hulking form
Encased in shadow
Stood just beyond
And blocked any hope
Of a reprieve
Puffs of fog
Escaped my lips
An ascending spirit
But there was no shiver
From my soul
On this winter’s night

In black alley
Between the bricks
The concrete
And the sky
Parting clouds
Undress the moon
Revealing everything
There were no words
To cut the stillness
The silence
Or the night

Flesh ripped
Sinew torn
Bones shatter
Brains splatter

Wet snowflakes
Drift lazily
Swirling in a breeze
A body lay
In pooling blood
By death’s decree
And that is where
It did stay
Alone and dead
Until winter’s end
In black alley

Monday, October 03, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Why can’t that
Which should have been gone
Long ago
Be shaken free
From the far back reaches
Why must it linger
With the cobwebs
And dust
Poking out
When least expected
When most unprepared
To deal with it
Why can’t it be
Pushed away
Out of sight
Never to be seen from

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Midnight Hour

Midnight Hour
By: James Dubeau

Staring into the darkness
I can’t tell
If my eyes are open
Or closed
If I am alive
Or dead
Rain rattles against the window
Closing me in
Cutting off the rest of the world
Wetness wells in my eyes
My body trembles
I don’t want to be alone
Not right now
Not on these dark days

Monday, September 26, 2011

You Never Know

You Never Know
By: James Dubeau

You never know
What this world
Has in store
From one day
To the next

This day started
Just like any other
Minor aches and pains
Bitching about work
One job
Then the next

But yet
When the day was almost over
It all no longer mattered
For all of life
And all the realities
Came striking down
When I got the call
From my good friend
That my good friend
His wife
Was dead

Friday, September 23, 2011

Late Afternoon Coffee

Late Afternoon Coffee
By: James Dubeau

Coffee coffee
Burning bright
Oh hot beverage
Which I delight
But when it becomes
Time to sleep
Please leave my system
Before I weep
When the sun rises high
In the sky
And I shuffle off to work
Feeling that I would die

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Autumn Rises

Autumn Rises
By: James Dubeau

Time for warm blankets
And snuggling with loved ones
From now until spring

Monday, September 19, 2011

Pathetic Existence

Pathetic Existence
By: James Dubeau

What a pathetic little existence
We all have
Trying to get from point A
To point B
In our meaningless insignificant lives
As I lie here
Fighting back the pain
And coughs
Endured by this dreaded illness
Of mine
It will be my curse until the end of time
My closed eyes
Listen to the world’s soul
Rhythmic buzzing of a heartbeat
God’s beat
Measuring out what is to come
Pain and joy
And all that which the future holds
Beyond the reach of fingertips
Trying to grasp razor sharp tendrils
To have
And hold tight against my flesh
Being one
With all that surrounds and binds us
But failing
Returning to that meaningless existence

Monday, August 22, 2011

Great Sky Daemon

Great Sky Daemon
By: James Dubeau

Screaming monkey head
Floats on by
Amongst the puffy
White clouds
Great sky daemon
Do you scream
Is it pain
Is it torture
That contorts your face
For those few moments
Before you are gone
Returned to where
You came

Friday, August 19, 2011

Dark Alley

Dark Alley
By: James Dubeau

My 45
Weighs heavy
In my hand
Against my soul
As I step
With trepidation
Down the dark alley
Eyes dart across
Every shadow
Every hiding place
For that scumbag to lurk
A trashcan crashes
I wheel to face
The daemon I chased
From the darkness emerged
A stray cat
Then from behind me
A handgun exploded
Cordite reached my nostrils
Above rotten garbage
I fell to my knee
My 45 clattered
Against the pavement
Against that vagabond
Against my killer
Sprinting from the alley

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

An Inferno Rages

An Inferno Rages
By: James Dubeau

Across darkened skies
An inferno rages
Orange flames
Obscured from view
Behind trees
But consuming them
Feeding a ravenous appetite
Endangering those
Who stand in the path
Creating new life
In the aftermath

Monday, August 15, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Has no meaning
When I sit here
By myself
Letting the seconds
The minutes
The hours
Tick on by
Unable to see the sun
Rise and fall
Through the closed
Window shades
Skews my perception
Of the day
With no goals
No objectives
No work
Nothing has been accomplished
Before the day
Has wasted away

Friday, August 12, 2011


By: James Dubeau

nothing on the mind
no poetry to write down
nothing worth posting

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Roy G Biv

Roy G Biv
By: James Dubeau

Roy G Biv
Is a friend
To you and me
He adds order
A sense of direction
For organization
Of the unorganizable
Ranging from
Little colored candies
To shirts on the line
And if you follow him
To the ends of the Earth
Then maybe you will find
His little pot of gold

Monday, August 08, 2011

Old Friend

Old Friend
By: James Dubeau

The years have not been kind
To you at all my friend
Your dog eared corners
And yellowed pages
Do not hide your age
But when I pick you up
Your hard cover
Familiar pages
And musty smell
Transport me
To when I was young
Free to spend all day
Every day reading
Spread out in the sun
And had to sign my name
On your precious pages
To keep my sister from claiming
You as her own

Friday, August 05, 2011

Hated Town

Hated Town
By: James Dubeau

Here I sit
In this town
A town in which
I shall always hate
It was nothing
Against this town
Or even nothing
That this town
Ever did
Against myself
My hatred
Is due to associations
Which I shall always have
With this dreaded
Small northern town
Someone from this town
A woman
Whom comes to mind
Every time
I visit this town
Every other town

Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Half Asleep

Half Asleep
By: James Dubeau

The other
Plodding along
A steady
A half-step
In front

Monday, August 01, 2011

Liquid Dancer

Liquid Dancer
By: James Dubeau

At the dance floor edge
He stands
Amongst the kids
Covered with glowing baubles
Under the strobe lights
He does not belong there
His plaid shorts do not belong
In the sea of black
Neither does his
White tank top under
Unbuttoned linen shirt
His baseball cap
Pulled low
Covering what should have been
Ashamed eyes
But yet
When the right bass moves him
He takes a step
Then a second
Onto the dance floor
His hands move
In liquid motions
Around invisible hovering balls
As if he perfected dancing
Into a martial art
To the gyrating couples
Quivering around him
As his movements
Take him further
Onto the dance floor
To the reverberating speakers
Flanking the DJ

Friday, July 29, 2011

Summer Dancing

Summer Dancing
By: James Dubeau

Under the hot summer sun
Some seek shade
Some seek drinks
While I seek dance

Thunderous drums
Echo off buildings
A harmonica wails
Struggling to keep up
With the burning fiddle

They dance amongst me
Throwing themselves
About the open lot
In front of the stage
So sun
No heat
Shall keep these revelers
Away from the pleasure
Of dance

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Last Night Together

Last Night Together
By: James Dubeau

Our lips met
We closed together
Passion flared
Before removing
My white over shirt
Not wanting to stain it
That shade of crimson
I knew what had to be done
By yet
The knife trembled
In my hand
Our eyes met
The short blade
Pierced flesh
Removing the unwanted
Slicing in twain
My hands
Became stained
Deep crimson
Droplets splattered
The counter and tile
I kissed her lips
And discarded
The waste

Monday, July 25, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Magnificent hunter
No prey can escape
Razor sharp claws
No bird of wing
Or beast of foot
Can survive
Crushing jaws
But yet
You lay on your back
Belly exposed
Wearing a pretty green collar
With twinkling bells
Looking for rubs
Looking for love
From those
Who house you
Who feed you
Who love you

Friday, July 22, 2011

Barroom Band

Barroom Band
By: James Dubeau

The barroom band rocks
Quickened beats skitter
Across checkered tile
Guitar and drums
Barroom standards
Set the tempo
Leaving the sax
And saw
To fill in odd melodies
Intoxicating the night air
Throwing patrons
With beers in hand
About the joint

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Played On

Played On
By: James Dubeau

It was sad
And slow
Meandering words sung
In some language
That I don’t understand
Maybe French
Or Portuguese
It does not matter
My soul knows
The heartbreak
Hidden deep in those words
As the band grew quiet
And the accordion
Played on

Monday, July 18, 2011

On This Night

On This Night
By: James Dubeau

On this night
I reach out
For you
To be in my arms
Held close
In this heat
That suffocates so
The land is dead
By the oppressive sun
But the ten
In my belly
Keep me
Where I need to be
Under the air conditioning
Letting me sleep

Monday, July 04, 2011


By: James Dubeau

The field is aglow
With the light
Of a thousand
Giving us four
Our own private
4th of July
Off in the distance
Booms echo
Off the trees and buildings
The inner city parkland
Distant flashing lights
Atop the hospital
Radio towers
And boom cranes
Add to the entertainment
As the four walk
Hand in hand
Watching dusk rise

Friday, July 01, 2011


By: James Dubeau

There he sits
Staring at me
For me to turn
To acknowledge him
Before he strikes
Slivers of light
Pierce the night air
His evil
Sharp toothed
And the blade
In his hand
His thoughts mirror mine
But yet
Dark and twisted
For he is a doppelganger
From another time
Another place
Another dimension
I refuse to turn
To look at him
To grant him satisfaction
Of seeing him
Down the dark hallway
Leading from my bedroom
He cannot become me
He cannot replace me
If I do not open my eyes
If I do not turn in bed
If I do not
Look upon him

Wednesday, June 29, 2011


By: James Dubeau

My eyes grow heavy
On this afternoon
As pen scratches paper
On this dreary day
I need to be up
Moving around
Running around the block
But today
I cannot
Not while this illness
Hangs heavy
Upon my head
Keeping me weighted down
With medications
Unable to move
Unable to enjoy
That which
I typically do
All that I can
Accomplish today
Is writing these few lines
Before nodding off
To dreamless sleep

Monday, June 27, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Where I cannot reach
Where I cannot comfort
Nothing can be done
To sooth this hurt
Deep inside of me
Every movement
The pain
Jabbing knives
Into my flesh
To my very soul

Friday, June 24, 2011

Can’t Sleep, Must Write

Can’t Sleep, Must Write
By: James Dubeau

When evening comes
Exhaustion wins
Driving me
To bed for sleep
Mister Sandman
Has not found me
Willing to take
His gift of rest
My eyes
Grow heavy
Can’t keep them open
But my mind
Is alive
To dance and play
Creating visions
Playing out scenarios
Thinking things through
More than is needed
Why does this happen
I scream to my pillow
Is it because
My two jobs
Do not leave time
To properly unwind
Or is it simply
That I’m overtired
And my body is rebelling
Against the lack of sleep
If that was so
Then why can I
Only fall asleep
After write a poem
Or three
I fear
This is due
To my need
My want
My drive
To create
Without scratching
Words on paper
I am nothing
But just a simple man
With a pen in my hand
I open the floodgates
Of my mind
Worlds to play in
Built-up pressure
Keeping me awake
Each night

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Drifting Clouds

Drifting Clouds
By: James Dubeau

Drifting clouds
Floating by
Blanketing the sky
Turning to black
I watch you float
Across the sky
In puffy gobs
Is there a storm
On the horizon
Waiting for me
To leave the sanctity
Of the indoors
Or will those clouds part
Showering me
With the last glimpses
Of sky and sun
Until the day
Finally turns
To night

Monday, June 20, 2011

Sickened Muse

Sickened Muse
By: James Dubeau

Where is that spark
Where is that idea
Which will carry me
To the end
I need something
To write about
I need something
To dream about
Worlds to create
Worlds to live
Worlds to meander through
With rambling words
Filling the blank pages
But the spark
Does not come
No inspiration today
Not while I’m feeling ill
Not while I’m nursing this tea
My muse is gone
Away from me today
Hidden behind
The mucus
And illness
She will not return
Not until I’m better
And well rested
And full of spit and gumption

Friday, June 17, 2011

Sunday Afternoon

Sunday Afternoon
By: James Dubeau

Curled upon
The soft leather couch
Pen in hand
Upon the tattered notebook
Words flow freely
Gliding in black
Upon the page
A trumpet solo
Rolls from speakers
Dotted across the coffee shop
In six months
A fire would be roaring
But today
Artificial logs lay lifeless
Taking in late spring warmth
Notebook pages flap
In the conditioned air breeze
As I sit here
On this Sunday afternoon

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Walking Together

Walking Together
By: James Dubeau

Lush green expanses
Roll in every direction
Deep in the heart
Of the city
We walk together
Hand in hand
Down un-groomed trails
Every pebble is felt
Though the soles
Of well loved shoes
Early spring overcast skies
Begin to part
Showing glimpses
Of bright blue heaven
Hills were steep
As trails wind over
But our steps together
Come easy
Around the bend
Over the ridge line
Towers of brick and steel loom
Watching us
Reminding us
That we are still
Surrounded by urban landscapes
And have not
Been transported back
One hundred years or more
As the isolation
Had led us to believe
No other visitors
Were on those trails
Nor could automobiles
Be heard
The only accompanist
On our journey
Were chipmunks
And rabbits
And blue jays above
But our time
Amongst Mother Nature
Had come to an end
And we had
To return to city life
Grasping each other’s hand tight
We took a deep breath
And stepped from the wilderness
Back to the concrete
And steel
And realities of life

Monday, June 13, 2011

A Solitary Tree Stands

A Solitary Tree Stands
By: James Dubeau

A solitary tree stands
Off in the distance
To the life of late spring
Even in death
He stands mighty
Against wind
And weather
And time
Proving how strong
He was in life
Tornado bearing storms
Were not enough
To bring him
Crashing down
He stands
A monument
To be revered
By all who pass

Friday, June 10, 2011

Nervous Anticipation

Nervous Anticipation
By: James Dubeau

Nervous anticipation
Slips through
Controlling fingers
Calming breaths
And pen on paper
Work free doubts
Restore sanities
Keeping any hesitation
Just below the surface
There should have been
No fears
Not for actions
Done a thousand times
But fears do lurk
Behind each shrubbery
Deep in the mind
Only carrying through
Would rise the sun
Illuminate the path
Vanquishing darkness
And bring a smile
To my face

Wednesday, June 08, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Bubbles up
From murky depths
Every word
Every action
Brings fourth
Which have been
Bottled up
For seven years
For a life time
Only now
To be unleashed
With unapologetic

Monday, June 06, 2011

Here I Sit

Here I Sit
By: James Dubeau

Here I sit
For the day’s events
To come to me
Killing time
In my car
Trying to write
A poem or two
But I cannot
Not today
My pen is dead
Out of ink
To scribble
A line
Or two
While the radio plays
And the sun
Falls across the sky

Friday, June 03, 2011

Hidden Danger

Hidden Danger
By: James Dubeau

High above me
Reached for the sky
In majestic simplicity
But yet
For how sturdy
The imposing structure
Might have been
There were signs
Of weakness
Water stains
Ran alongside
Turning browns
The surrounding
White rocked walls
Signs of damage
Signs of danger
In dark recesses
To naked eyes
If only Invisible
Shades of red
Could be seen
One would truly know
Of the darkness
Upon wood and fiber
Ready to strike
Ready to kill
Those who choose
To inhabit
Near the sandstone tower

Wednesday, June 01, 2011

Wine Cave

Wine Cave
By: James Dubeau

Sprinkled across
Hard wood walls
Little caves
Of joy

In a pattern
Of polka dots
Here and there

With uniformity
But yet chaos
In those dark caverns

As corks and caps
Do emerge
From those walls

No pattern
Could predict
Which was filled
Or which was empty

Necks reached out
Yearning for me
My grasp
My caress

Drawing my eyes
Back and forth
From the many caverns

The green one
The gold one
Or maybe the blue

Which one shall be mine
Which one shall I consume
Which one shall I take home

Closing my eyes
I reached gently
As if caressing a lover

My trembling hand
Returned the bottle
From the wood wall

I held it close
Not wanting to drop
My new found treasure
Of joy

Monday, May 30, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Twice on Friday
I was told
To have a blessed
But not it is over
I wonder to myself
Have I lived up
To what strangers
Had wished upon me
No harm had come
Through my actions
Or inaction
Good times were had
With friends
And alone
But I don’t know
If I would
Truly call
My Good weekend

Friday, May 27, 2011

Only A Few More Days

Only A Few More Days
By: James Dubeau

Only a few more days
To go
Only a few more days
To live
Only a few more days
Until I die
A painful death
Beside the road
With an exploded knee
Gasping for breath
Crawling across gravel
And burning asphalt
Attempting to absolve
My soul
In sweat, blood, and tears
And like always
Falling flat

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Local Theater

Local Theater
By: James Dubeau

Quaint little theater
Hidden away
Back from the
Torn up
Main thoroughfare
Of the beatnik neighborhood

Three rows of seats
Flank the stage
On three sides
Theater in the round
Or semicircle
As it were

I had never been
To this venue
Never had supported
Those friends who had
Put it all out there
Living the dream
In local theater
Enjoying the laughs
And applause
Of those few
Who ventured fourth
On these quiet

Monday, May 23, 2011

Monday Morning

Monday Morning
By: James Dubeau

Eyes hang heavy
Legs are restless
As I sit here
Keeping the desk
From floating away
Slowly seconds pass
Away the time
Away the morning
Away any desire
To do anything
But sit
Staring off
Into space

Friday, May 20, 2011


By: James Dubeau

What is this life
Where decisions
Are made
And words
Are said
That do not
Move things forward
To a skewed sideways
Is in a tenuous balance
Where the littlest movement
The smallest thought
A miniscule word
Can send things
Flying off the handle
In random directions
That cannot be judged
Only the aftermath
Can be reckoned

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Who Are You

Who Are You
By: James Dubeau

Who are you
Looking back at me
A man who is
So close
But yet
We can
Never touch
Never converse
Never know each other
I do not recognize you
Not your eyes
Your hair
Or even your nose
Where did you get
Those wrinkles
And gray hair
How can you
Be I

Monday, May 16, 2011

Casino Night

Casino Night
By: James Dubeau

When the night
Is still young
The young do say
Lets us go out and play

And before you know it
You are thrown in a car
To travel two states away

On a mighty quest
In search of drink
And a bit of trouble

Before too long
Drinks are drunk
And dice are rolled
And one arm bandits
Are wrestled

A stranger at the bar
Buys a round
For all the couples
Making assumptions
On a pair of cousins
Free drinks which cannot
Be refused

Just before last call
Two fistfuls of drinks
Are pounded down
Except for the Irish
Which is slowly enjoyed
Hidden away
In the Styrofoam cup

Minutes turn to hours
Stars and moon
Set outside
While the revelry continues under
Unsetting fluorescents

Second winds become cashed
Pockets are emptied
And eyes grow heavy
The young ride off
Into the sunrise

Friday, May 13, 2011

Half-Priced Thursday

Half-Price Thursday
By: James Dubeau

Out and about
Margarita in hand
Music thumps
And bumps
As dancers
New friends
Good times roll
On this

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The Torment

The Torment
By: James Dubeau

No matter where I turn
Or try to think
The torment
Is ready for me
Mental anguish
Which stops the brain
From being rational
Or being sane
There appears to be no end
To the pain and suffering
I seek
At least not any time
For which I can see
Forever more
This is baggage
Which I must carry
Until the time
When the torment ends
And the cool black hands
Of night embrace me
Envelop me
Into darkness

Monday, May 09, 2011


By: James Dubeau

There was once a time
Where I would not
Could not
Have done the things
That I do today
Was it just
That I was lazy
Oh no
That was not it
It was that
I had no pride
Nothing to be proud of
But now I do
With a smile
I wipe the counters
Clean the toilets
And do the chores
That I had never been
Motivated to do

Friday, May 06, 2011

Saffron: Part 3

Saffron: Part 3
By: James Dubeau

“Please stop,” Saffron begged Lord Hagen. “Do not waste the life of a man who did not know of our dealings.”

Lord Hagen grunted and tightened his bear hug. Heat radiated from the pooled blood in my face. The steal trap would not allow my chest to heave. Only air connected with my kicked feet.

“You win. It is in my purse.” All emotion had drained from her voice. There was no joy, no fear, or sadness. This woman had given up. She had accepted defeat at the hands of Lord Hagen to save a stranger who attempted to defend her.

“Fire!” Someone yelled. The vacant table which I had been knocked across was engulfed by flames. A lone candle on the floor had ignited the draped tablecloth.

Lord Hagen’s grasp loosened. My legs kicked a stone pillar. The sharp blow upon the brute’s leg loosened his grasp. I fell, a crumpled mess on the hardwood floor. Lord Hagen looked to his empty meaty paws. Disbelief of my freedom before death washed over his face.

Saffron may have only been a flapper who spent an evening or two with my lonely cousin back home, but there was something else to her. Something deeper. Deep down she was a good human being and did not deserve the same death the giant brute had in store for me.

Rusty mental gears ground out my next move. Saffron needed help more than I had first imagined. Crouched, my fist fired low and hard. I rolled out from below the wounded lord and rushed from the dining area. Lord Hagen clutched his family jewels and fell to his knees. Saffron’s purse was held tight against my ribs.

I lowered my shoulder and rushed from the dining area. The stunned crowd was bashed out of my way. Before anyone realized what had happened my feet had propelled me down many airship corridors. My mind raced. How could I escape from Lord Hagen on the cramped ship? My lungs burned and my legs ached. My whiskey-filled belly had not been prepared for such a hard sprint.

It was not long before my travels had found me lost deep in the great ship’s bowels. In a dark corner I rifled through Saffron’s purse. Hidden inside a compact was a sealed letter addressed to the ship’s captain. The letter had to be what Lord Hagen was after. An end could be brought to this mess if I was able to deliver the captain’s letter.

I adjusted my fedora and loosened my four-in-hand tie. My sides were on fire and sweat poured from me. Luck had seemed to be on my side.

Then I vomited.

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Saffron: Part 2

Saffron: Part 2
By: James Dubeau

Sprinkled about the dining room were a handful of late-night patrons. Romantic starlight dining was an airship mainstay. Solitary candles upon each table should be the only illumination. Their eyes should be locked upon each other while rich deserts would be shared. Nervously each couple avoided eye contact with Lord Hagen. Most people shied away from an agitated lord.

Alone, I entered the dining room. My cousin’s weak willed ways left him in refuge at the bar. His fascination with Saffron had not instilled courage like whiskey had done for me. He would not confront a lord, even if it was to defend her honor.

“Did you not hear me? I said, leave her alone.” I marched across the dining room.

Saffron looked up from the crouched man by her side with terror-filled eyes. Lord Hagen turned and erected himself, his full height towered over me. Olive skin contrasted with a starched white shirt and red bowtie. Black suspenders strained to contain a barrel-sized chest. A heavy black mustache hid his lips as velvety words slipped through. “I have business with this woman.”

I hesitated for a moment under his full height and power. He may be a full foot taller and wider than me but I was not about to turn tail and run. I slipped off my coat and stood toe to toe with the brute. “It sounds like a business which she wants no part of. Why don’t you pay us the niceties and be on your way?”

His meaty paw slammed into my jaw and knocked me across a vacant table. “So that is how you want this to play out,” I pulled myself off the floor and returned the candle to the table. Lord Hagen stared me down.

“You caught me unawares on that one,” I raised my fists and danced around the table. “I’ll let it slide though. Only fair, since you are a lord and all.”

The freight train slammed across my jaw again. Once more I was knocked across the table. Saffron screamed. Lord Hagen grunted in satisfaction.

“You don’t talk much do ya?” I spat blood as I spoke.

“This matter does not concern you.” His sausage fingers flexed and cracked.

I rushed forward and ducked another blow. Quickly I jabbed. Once, twice, three times. My fists bounced off his brick wall chest. My knuckles screamed.

Lord Hagen laughed. He wrapped me in an unyielding bear hug. Life was forced from my lungs. My legs kicked out as I was lifted off the ground. His strength and size spelt my death.

Monday, May 02, 2011

Saffron: Part 1

Saffron: Part 1
By: James Dubeau

“Lord Cillian.” The bartender smiled at my outstretched cabbage and left the blonde waitress at the bar’s far end. Money was the only way to get service with a mug like mine.

“I never understood your taste for that whiskey,” my cousin said when my snifter and his tea were slid in front of us.

“Keeps out the cold on these long airship flights,” I tugged on my fedora. Several other passengers had shared my thoughts and had not changed out of their hats and coats. Unseasonably cold thin air seeped through cabin windows and chilled the lounge.

“See her?” a bony elbow jabbed my ribs.

She was a fallen angel. A slender fiery headed woman glided through the airship lounge. Long green silk gown flowed over her gracefully malevolent body. Delicate fingers were encased by long white silk gloves. Golden strings glittered with diamonds draped a willowy neck. Mischievous green eyes washed over us. Her keister swished and held our gaze until she disappeared into the dining room.

We weren’t the only ones who stalked her progress. Every eye was firmly upon her. Fixed upon every curve and dove into the same gutter.

“That dress hardly looks warm.” I drained my glass.

“There sure is a tail on her.” A wistful glaze consumed his eyes and soul.

“And horns too I’ll bet. You know that succubus?”
“You can say that, she’s a flapper from back home. They call her Saffron. A few good nights at the craps table were had with her by my side.”

“She blow your dice?” My empty glass slid across the varnished countertop to the bartender. He topped it off and picked a bill from the small green pile before me.

“Blew my dice and my money, was a good time though. Too bad her luck was not as divine as those luscious lips.”

“Leave me be.” A feminine voice rang from the dining room. The background cacophony of voices and glasses ceased. Only the outboard prop engine hum filled the void between outbursts. Trouble seemed to brew for Saffron.

“I do not have what you are looking for Lord Hagen!” Only her half of the conversation reached my ears.

“Unhand me.” Her desperate protests grew louder.

“Leave her alone.” My once again empty glass slammed onto the bar. The caramel liquid insulated me from the cold and fortified my courage.

“Would you like to say that to my face?” A soft masculine voice slipped from the dining area.

“You don’t have to go in there.” My cousin grasped my arm.

“Her honor demands to be defended. Besides,” I winked, “I’ve never known a lord to back up his words and fight.”

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Race Day

Race Day
By: James Dubeau

When the race
First began
There was shouting
And cheering
And bands
But soon I
Fell into the groove
And nothing but silence
Over labored breaths
Rounding the corner
Down the street
Drunken frat boys
Cheer on their feet
But the event
Had just begun
And there was no support
Not really
Soon the cheers were behind me
And silence crept back in
As I labored on
Trying to make progress
I could finish
I knew I could
But it reminding
Of that important fact
Over and over and over
As I kept moving
Making my way
Only pausing slightly
At the rest break
But still pushing forward
Faster than I expected
Still keeping momentum
Even after all this time
Rounding the last corner
End is in sight
I sprit for the finish
And hop on all right

Friday, April 29, 2011

Unfinished Ballad

Unfinished Ballad
By: James Dubeau

The cold had a frigid bit
As snow fell throughout the night
Down through the bombed out roof
Of the beloved Boar’s Red Hoof

Coughing Zack reached for a smoke
And mumbled a dry bad joke
Quinn smiled and tried to ignore
The crimson blood upon the floor

They sure got me good back there
Zack had said and then did swear
Why the hell did those bombs fall
He had lost it all and began to bawl

We are here and that matters
Humanity maybe tatters
We will still be fighting on
Until the last of them are gone

Quinn then passed a whiskey jar
You will have a wicked scar
Zack did laugh and then he winced
His fate was sealed Quinn was convinced

Crash! Bomb! The wall exploded
Giant beast then unloaded
Shells and bullets then did fly
Under a red evil eye

Quinn did duck behind the bar
Zack was not behind by far
Or so she thought when she did move
But he had something left to prove

I’m not going without a fight
Zack had stood, his rifle tight
Returning fire on that night
It sure was quite the sight

The metal beast, it did glare
It did not move, just stood there
Bullets hit silver skin
As sweat rolled off Zack’s poor chin

Get out of here Zack did shout
It’s closing time without a doubt
This mother is going down
So you should get out of town

Quinn did duck and she did weave
Zack pulled grenades from his sleeve
The metal monster kept firing
Trying to stop the conspiring

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Black Sea

Black Sea
By: James Dubeau

My eyes rest upon
Light reflecting off the water
Rolling across the dark sea
With the white capped waves in
Ivan Ayvazovskiy’s
The Black Sea
The crashing waves
Bring my mind back
To my native homeland
Of the Main shoreline
Where I would have been
Looking out across the ocean
Watching the tide roll in
Under heavy cloud cover
Of looming storms
On a cold early morning
Where only the hope
Of the rising sun
To burn the dreary night away
Can bring a smile to my
Old and weary eyes

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

The Winter That Could Have Been

The Winter That Could Have Been
By: James Dubeau

The poem I’d never write
Would have been about a time
Which was to be
Full of joy and romance

A winter which would have began
With a night watching the lunar eclipse
Or a drive through the festival of lights
As snow fell on a starlit night

Then there was to be days
Full of outdoors fun
Such as
Snow skiing
Ice Skating
And even sledding
On these Wisconsin hills and ponds

Then we would have
Tried to stay warm
Drinking mugs of hot chocolate
While attacking each other
With freezer cold feet
Under the cover
Of warm heavy blankets

Cuddling together
Sharing bodily warmth
Through cold winter nights
All the way to the morning
Waking up to breakfast
Which I love to cook
Of eggs and bacon
And coffee or tea

And then there would have been
The handful of holidays
Trading gifts by the tree
While laughing hysterically
At our tacky sweaters
Or sipping champagne
While the ball would have dropped
Sharing a kiss
From those first fireworks
Until cupid buzzed
About our heads

But those events
Never did happen
In the winter
That could have been
And the poem
About that time
And about that girl
Shall always remain
The poem I’d never write

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Fairy-Tale High

Fairy-Tale High
By: James Dubeau

Ever live a
Fairy-tale high?
Beautiful crystalline
A new divide
Beyond the olde!

Monday, April 25, 2011


By: James Dubeau

When the weather is
No where near up to snuff
And my mind isn’t around
To put ink to paper
I like to sit and watch movies
And wonder why
Max loves pistachios so much
When the weather is
Where I like it to be
I’ll go on long walks
Picking up interesting pebbles
As I make my way
Through the countryside
While sucking the varnish
Off those little hard candies

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Man’s Distrust of Destiny

Man’s Distrust of Destiny
By: James Dubeau

Purple ring

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Running Body

Running Body
By: James Dubeau

It’s true that fresh air is good for the body
Especially when running on city streets
Pounding feet against burning concrete
Gasping breaths are the only reprieve
For this exhausted body
My mind and soul scream
This is our body

Friday, April 22, 2011

Foxy In Blue

Foxy In Blue
By: James Dubeau

From the day
We first met
I was in love
With your boxy frame
And angled curves
Some may disagree
But to me
You were a fox
In the way
You wore that blue
And that shine
Upon your grill

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Future – Remix

Future – Remix
By: James Dubeau

Brown sunshine
Will be washing
I can motion away
For change
Plans cannot
Need uselessness
Before time
Can pass fully
Things are
Not from waiting
This week
Not another bag
Of paper
Sitting happy
Yet idle
Glad to be loose
In which
I let the Plans
Be just

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Stair Game

Stair Game
By: James Dubeau

I remember that day
When you held me
In your arms
At the base of the stairs
In the old house
Back in Maine
I couldn’t have been
Any older than two
Maybe three
At the most
You held me
In your arms
I held Snoopy
In my arms
We had played a game
Since Snoopy was big
As big as me
Where I would scamper
Up the stairs
Then you would toss him
To my waiting arms
But that night
You said to me
How about I toss you
Up the stairs
Filled my brain
As I shouted
Wiggled free
To scamper up those stairs
For you to toss
Up to me

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Laundered Words

Laundered Words
By: James Dubeau

I see you
Sitting there
Spilling over the edges
Of your basket
Waiting to be worked on
Waiting to be finished
Waiting to be cleaned up
Until I have a free moment
Enough time to spend
Dealing with you
After work
Or on the weekend
When no one else is around
And nothing better is going on
Other than sitting around
Drinking all the beer
Cleaning you up
Removing all the stains
Making you presentable
To show off in public
Too bad
No one will even notice
The hard work
It took
To clean you up
To straighten you out
To make you

Monday, April 18, 2011

First Day

First Day
By: James Dubeau

What can I say on this fine day
When I’m sitting around with anxieties abound
My heart beats faster with fears I can’t master
This new job so far away from Bob
But I think I can for I am the man
Who has the gall to conquer all
Weather it be a new job or activity or raising a new kitty
Or so I keep saying to keep it from weighing
Carving out a hole deep upon my soul
These few words aren’t just for the birds
But to keep an even keep I must expound how I feel
Say good bye and let these butterflies fly

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Killer Mime

Killer Mime
By: James Dubeau

Once upon a time
There was a mime
Who dropped a dime
On poor old Clementine

She didn’t know
If it was her old foe
Or it was her beau
But it was only Moe

He did sail
After the whale
That was named Dale
Who was out on bail

But those were the days
When he drank into a haze
To be lost in the maze
Until the next phase

When Dale was found dead
Lost in his bed
Where he had been bled
And Clementine’s hands were red

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Fall Of 2003

Fall Of 2003
By: James Dubeau

I had carried
The Things They Carried
By Tim O’Brien
Back in the Fall
Of 2003
To my mattress
In my barren room

I had carried
Thoughts and feelings
Grief and pain
In that time
Of my life
As I tried to figure out
What I wanted
Where I was going

I had carried
The book home from class
In a bag too heavy for its straps
Weighted down
With my homework
My books
My pride
My shame
As a returning student
Back to school
After being away
For oh so long

I had carried
My fears of a life well wasted
In my back pocket
The girlfriend at the time
Did not appreciate
That I was aimless
Adrift at sea
With no guidance
Or school in me
So I re-upped
Returning to that which might
If the cards played out just right
Lead to a better future

I had carried
Of better times
Better futures
With the girlfriend
But these things
Would never come to pass
I knew this
Even though
My foolish heart
Remained hopeful

I had carried
Upon my arms
Scars of failure
Seeping to the lows
Just to survive
To feel the pain
Of life and death
Just scraping by
Selling plasma
And my soul
That fall of 2003

I had carried
That book of poetry
Assigned to me
By my Freshman English class
And it in turn
Carried me
Back to Vietnam
With those men
Who lived and died
In that foreign jungle
In that foreign land

I had carried
A bottle of whiskey
And case of cola
To bed with me
That fall afternoon
Where I sat
Upon my mattress
Upon the floor
Back against the wall
Pouring drink after drink
While I read those pages
Living those lives
Of the men fighting
In the late 60s

I had carried
A lonely dark place
In the corner of my soul
While I sat there
Drinking whiskey
Reading poetry
Thinking about the life
Which I had led
Life which produced
The man I was
The man I am
That day I may have drank
To remember
To forget
To fight back the tears
No longer do I remember
The exact reason
But I do know
That day
I did drink

I had carried
A sense of duty
A sense of pride
In working long hours
Every other weekend
Hours which lasted forever
By the end of each late night
My vision would be clouded over
Spots and glares
From the lights
And cleaning supplies
Of my aisle
In the grocery store

I had carried
A sense of shame
In what I had become
Too poor to be an alcoholic
Too depressed to be more
The girl had cautioned
Before leaving our apartment
That I shouldn’t be drinking
Not that much
Not alone
I had enjoyed the drink
The sweet caramel taste
Of the liquor and cola
Swirling about my mouth
Not to become intoxicated
Not to lose control
I could hold my liquor
And I had said so
I don’t think she believed me

I had carried
Perverse amusement
When I sat down
Book and whiskey
In my hands
Nothing like poems
Straight out of Vietnam
Too cheer me up
On a bright Saturday afternoon
I had said out loud
Little did I know
Just how engrossing
Those stories and poems
Would be for me
I could only muster the strength
To look away
Just long enough
To pour another drink
Before being sucked back into
The eyes of a poet
Living and fighting and killing
In Vietnam

I had carried
A belly full of whiskey
When the sun grew heavy
And the bottle was empty
And the book was finished
While my mind was well fed
My body was not
So I walked off
In search of sustenance
A sandwich
Some space
Some time
To decompress
All that I had read
I had walked
Far down University
As evening turned to night
Clouds covered over
The endless sky
Sending me into hiding
From the rain
From the dark of night
At a park pavilion
Filled with rambunctious
Lively high schoolers
High on pot and beer and E

Friday, April 15, 2011

The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

Today the writing prompt for the 30 Day Challenge was to post a poem that you love. I was going to post "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien from the book of the same name. However I do not feel comfortable with posting the poem in its entirety onto the internet. As a creative person I have strong beliefs on Intellectual Property rights and Copyright laws and common respect for other artists. For those reasons I only posted the first two paragraphs. I hope it is enough to wet your appetite and leave you wanting more.

For your convenience here is a link to where you can buy the same edition I own.

The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien

First Lieutenant Jimmy Cross carried letters from a girl named Martha, a junior at Mount Sebastian College in New Jersey. They were not love letters, but Lieutenant Cross was hoping, so he kept them folded in plastic at the bottom of his rucksack. In the late afternoon, after a day's march, he would dig his foxhole, wash his hands under a canteen, unwrap the letters, hold them with the tips of his fingers, and spend the last hour of fight pretending. He would imagine romantic camping trips into the White Mountains in New Hampshire. He would sometimes taste the envelope flaps, knowing her tongue had been there. More than anything, he wanted Martha to love him as he loved her, but the letters were mostly chatty, elusive on the matter of love. She was a virgin, he was almost sure. She was an English major at Mount Sebastian, and she wrote beautifully about her professors and roommates and midterm exams, about her respect for Chaucer and her great affection for Virginia Woolf. She often quoted lines .of poetry; she never mentioned the war, except to say, Jimmy, take care of yourself. The letters weighed ten ounces. They were signed "Love, Martha," but Lieutenant Cross understood that Love was only a way of signing and did not mean what he sometimes pretended it meant. At dusk, he would carefully return the letters to his rucksack. Slowly, a bit distracted, he would get up and move among his men, checking the perimeter, then at full dark he would return to his hole and watch the night and wonder if Martha was a virgin.

The things they carried were largely determined by necessity. Among the necessities or near-necessities were P-38 can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wrist watches, dog tags, mosquito repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of Kool-Aid, lighters, matches, sewing kits, Military payment Certificates, C rations, and two or three canteens of water. Together, these items weighed between fifteen and twenty pounds, depending upon a man's habits or rate of metabolism. Henry Dobbins, who was a big man, carried extra rations; he was especially fond of canned peaches in heavy syrup over pound cake. Dave Jensen, who practiced field hygiene, carried a toothbrush, dental floss, and several hotel-size bars of soap he'd stolen on R&R in Sydney, Australia. Ted Lavender, who was scared, carried tranquilizers until he was shot in the head outside the village of Than Khe in mid-April. By necessity, and because it was SOP, they all carried steel helmets that weighed five pounds including the liner aid camouflage cover. They carried the standard fatigue jackets and trousers. Very few carried underwear. On their feet they carried jungle boots-2.1 pounds - and Dave Jensen carried three pairs of socks and a can of Dr. Scholl's foot powder as a precaution against trench foot. Until he was shot, Ted Lavender carried six or seven ounces of premium dope, which for him was 2 necessity. Mitchell Sanders, the RT0, carried condoms. Norman Bowker carried a diary. Rat Kiley carried comic books. Kiowa, a devout Baptist, Carried an illustrated New Testament that had been presented to him by his father, who taught Sunday school in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. As a hedge against bad times, however, Kiowa also carried his grandmother's distrust of the white man, his grandfather's old hunting hatchet. Necessity dictated. Because the land was mined and booby-trapped, it was SOP for each man to carry a steel-centered, nylon-covered flak jacket, which weighed 6.7 pounds, but which on hot days seemed much heavier. Because you could die so quickly, each man carried at least one large compress bandage, usually in the helmet band for easy access. Because the nights were cold, and because the monsoons were wet, each carried a green plastic poncho that could be used as a raincoat or groundsheet or makeshift tent. With its quilted liner, the poncho weighed almost two pounds, but it was worth every ounce. In April, for instance, when Ted Lavender was shot, they used his poncho to wrap him up, then to carry him across the paddy, then to lift him into the chopper that took him away.

Thursday, April 14, 2011


By: James Dubeau

The day is bright
But I am dark
My soul should soar
But it is dark
Where have they all gone?
When it is so dark
My friends left me
In the dark
My parents left me
In the dark
Everything has left me
In the dark
There can be no other
In the dark
Only my poems
Can light the dark
For me to be happy
With the dark
In the

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


By: James Dubeau

On the brain
Will soon
Be eaten
All night

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Life In Six

Life In Six
By: James Dubeau

Mad for

Monday, April 11, 2011


By: James Dubeau







Sunday, April 10, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Epigraph from Clint Eastwood
By: Gorillaz

I ain't happy,
I'm feeling glad
I got sunshine in a bag
I'm useless but
Not for long
The future is coming on

For time to pass
I cannot be happy
Not fully
Not yet
I can be glad
Things will change
Plans are in motion
Plans which need
Just another week
Of fermentation
Before this sunshine
Can be let loose
From the brown paper bag
Washing away
Idle uselessness

Saturday, April 09, 2011

Om Noms

Om Noms
By: James Dubeau

Om Noms
Is the place to be
If you want
Fizzle in your pop
And a vermillion gumball
Or maybe a double-decker
Shot-put sized
Rhinoceros cheeseburger
On a chlorophyll colored bun
But if that is too square
For your rhythmical adrenaline
Then muddle your way
Through our abstract menu
Which will vilify
All others
That have come before
Take the time
To circumspect our
Emblazoned walls
While a bespectacled waitress
Asks you to integrate
Into the booths
Just remember
Are for the kids to ride
There will be no

Friday, April 08, 2011

Driven Mad

Driven Mad
By: James Dubeau

Flashing computer screen
Will make me certifiable

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Little Old Tree

Little Old Tree
By: James Dubeau

Little old tree
Out in the yard
Standing by your lonesome
Not expected to live
Not expected to survive
Not given a chance
Not like the rest
Which dot the yard
You are alone
Fighting the world
With no help
No support
No nothing
You are surviving

Wednesday, April 06, 2011


By: James Dubeau

As I lie still
My brain is awake
Going over
The instant
It all went bad
I'm sorry
I wasn’t there for you
I’m sorry
I wasn’t your friend
When you needed one
I’m sorry
My shoulder wasn’t there
For your eyes to weep upon
I’m sorry
I laughed and poked fun
When you were hurt
I’m sorry
All that I did
Was selfish
I did not know
What had been done
I deserve the hate
Wound up
Inside of you
Target me with it
If you would like
I deserve it
I want it
Go ahead
Don't hold back
You should not hesitate
To give me what I have coming
I know you are just as tired
Of all this as I am
But there are no more reasons
To lose sleep
When we can
Get it out
Into the open
And close this rift
It looks like
This may take some time
While we sort
Everything out
But that will be time
What we need to do
In order to get
Everything back
To where
It once was
To where
We can be friends
Once again
I will be waiting
And writing
My thoughts
And feelings
Until that time
Is here

Tuesday, April 05, 2011


By: James Dubeau

There are times I hate
When you roll out of place
From the shelf next to the limes

Monday, April 04, 2011

Marathon Haiku

Marathon Haiku
By: James Dubeau

Legs are churning hard
Just one more mile to go
You can finish it

Sunday, April 03, 2011

Goblins Dance

Goblins Dance
By: James Dubeau

Goblins dance
About a cold fire
With the fury
Of a worm’s
Contempt for life
Awaking the spirits
In the trees
In the rocks
In the air
Demanding strength
Upon their domain
To bury
Hawkwing’s passions
Away for good
For time
To scatter

Saturday, April 02, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Was the last time
We went out
For all you can eat
Steak fries

Friday, April 01, 2011


By: James Dubeau

Jumping for cover
Armed to the teeth
Minutemen must die
Embracing their fate
Saving this land

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Feeling Awkward

Feeling Awkward
By: James Dubeau

There are times
Where you see someone
Say hi
And it seems
They are talking to you
But when you turn
And say hey
A quizzical look
Washes over them
And now
You are left
Feeling awkward
Then there are times
When you see your friend’s truck
At least you think it’s his truck
It’s blue like his
With a white top
Like his
But when you enter the bar
And order a drink
He is no where to be seen
You are left
Feeling awkward
Then there are times
When in the crowded bar
You hear your friend’s voice
Coming from the bathroom
From behind the bar
From the far side of the room
But when you look
High and low
He is not to be seen
And you are left
Feeling awkward

Monday, March 28, 2011


By: James Dubeau

All that can be done
Is being the best
That can be
For me
No more
No less

It would not
Be wise
To push ahead
Forcing changes
For that move would
Only explode
Burning shrapnel
Into my face

Just sitting still
Also does not
Constitute a wise move
Amongst my juices
Would only
Drown me

Being the best
Me that can be
Is the only option
Left to me

Friday, March 25, 2011

Too Much

Too Much
By: James Dubeau

I eat too much
I drink too much
I work too much
I spend too much
I sleep too much
I think too much
I hope too much
I cry too much
I love too much

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Evening Jazz

Evening Jazz
By: James Dubeau

Here I sit
From head to toe
In this concrete
Of a room
Auditorium really
Bits of wood
Splashed about
Seats and stage
My eyes grow heavy
From sandman’s weight
In the darkened room
Applause erupts
Dark figures
Filtering though
Taking positions
At brass and wood
Three beats
High energy jazz
Fills the void
Forcing me to life
Tapping toes
Nodding along
With the beat
Each figure stands
One by one
Jamming out solos
To thundering applause
Before I know it
All is quiet
Save for ringing ears
Once again
In the empty

Monday, March 21, 2011

Erin’s Errands

Erin’s Errands
By: James Dubeau

After class
The car is packed
Ready to leave
Headed out of town
For the week
Errands stand
In the way
A stop
At the drugstore
And one more
For posters galore
A timely departure
Can be embarked
As things tend to go
Complications arise
Delaying thought out plans
The Pharmacist is out
On a lunch break
For ten
Or more
While the posters
Weren’t quite finished
Pushing everything back
Forcing timelines
To be redrawn
That is to be expected
When Erin is out
Running Errands

Friday, March 18, 2011

Is It Just Me

Is It Just Me
By: James Dubeau

Is it just me
Or does it just suck
When you wake up
Expecting a day off
When in return
All that you get
Is one phone call
A dirty
Phone call
That asks
That on the day off
The day for relaxing
The day for production
The day for errands
That work beckons

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Food For Thought

Food For Thought
By: James Dubeau

Flag atop the pole flutters
Wind howls across the parking lot
Owl perched atop the branch
Field mice scuttle below
Under his watchful eye
When one seems slow
Easy pickings
Swooping down
Snatching up the mouse
For lunch
Or just a snack

Monday, March 14, 2011

Little Miss Pixie

Little Miss Pixie
By: James Dubeau

Little miss pixie
Flittering about my head
Pleasing me in ways
That should not be
Bringing me things
That should not be had
Buzzing about
Amusing me
Annoying me

Why is it
When you are
No where to be found
I am lost

Friday, March 11, 2011


By: James Dubeau

The heart must journey
Up narrow routes
Navigating twisting turns
Over the mountains of life
At any moment
Boulders could tumble
Or ground falls out
Killing on the spot
The trek never goes
As it was hoped
Through these treacherous lands
But in the end
The hike
Is well worth
The pain and torment

Wednesday, March 09, 2011


By: James Dubeau

You are nothing
But excuses
And complaints
Can’t do what it takes
To be happy
Hold you back
Do not listen
To those voices
Silently murmuring
In the back of your head
They only plant excuses
Which are nothing
But reasons
You don’t want to hear
Be your own person
Do the brave thing
Dream big
And reach for it
For if you do
And if I know you
Like I do
You will be
A star

Monday, March 07, 2011

Line In The Sand

Line In The Sand
By: James Dubeau

Line in the sand
Can’t be crossed
Shouldn’t be crossed
By these heavy feet

Line in the sand
Marks where daemons roam
Free to play
Upon wicked ways

Line in the sand
On up ahead
Just beyond
Where salvation lies

Line in the sand
Thin red trickle
Slowly flowing
Dripping across dunes

Line in the sand
Crosses under
Circling buzzards
Cawing for me

Line in the sand
Leads me to
My comrades
Rotting corpses

Line in the sand
Pools blood at
My good friend’s
Outstretched palm

Line in the sand
Ended here
With these good men
And so will I

Friday, March 04, 2011

When I Knew Him

When I Knew Him
By: James Dubeau

When I knew him
We were both
Young men
Children really
Going though
The simple woes
That all do
At that age
As the years passed
We grew apart
As always happens
I deserted my friends
Left for college
When that failed
And I returned
I did not seek
Those friends
Which were left behind
As the sands of time
Buried them away
For a decade
Or so
But as the wind blows
Sand to obscure
Wind also blows
Sand to reveal
Those lost friends
Are returning to me
One by one
In unexpected ways
When a hand extends
From the depths of sand
That might be
The only chance
I have to grab a hold
Bringing them back
Into my life
That one chance
Is what I had
With him
Instead of reaching out
Grabbing his hand
I let him slip under
Now he is gone
For good
And I can no longer
Speak to him
And say
We are still friends

Thursday, March 03, 2011

I Don't Know

I Don’t Know
By: James Dubeau

I don’t know
What to say
What to think
When I look into your eyes
In bygone pictures
Of bygone times
All that I can do
Is kick myself
For not saying hi
When I heard you were in town
When I heard about the cancer
When I heard the end was near
Why did I not
Make that one
After that decade
Was it fear
Was it denial
All that I can do now
Is hope
And pray
That you are looking
Down from above
Over all the outpouring
From friends
And family
Those near and dear
As well as those
Who stood
At arms length

Wednesday, March 02, 2011


By: James Dubeau

It had all started
Like any other day
Full of work
And arguments
With the boss-man

So I took a moment
To be by myself
Cooling my heels
Away from there

And there she was
Questioning me
Questioning my right
Just to be there

Hanging on out
Under the slide
Near some swings
Kicking the rubber-chips

From that first moment
When I first saw her
My first look was locked
My first breath was stolen

Somehow words had found me
Explaining my day
And terrible ways
That left me on that playground

She humored me
And we got along
Conversing for hours upon hours
Until the sun hung low

Eventually it was time
To be on my way
So with a nod and a wink
I asked for her name

And what she had written
Upon my notepad
Could not be deciphered
Not by this old lad

Mixed in the scribbles
Appeared to be
Three different Qs
Not a name to me

My name is Robin
She said with a smile
I can see that
We laughed for a while

Want to have dinner
Tonight with me
She had asked

Tonight is spaghetti
Topped with meatballs
Dine with me
And the family

I nodded
And followed
And smiled
And loved

Monday, February 28, 2011

Not So Different

Not So Different
By: James Dubeau

We are not so different
You and I
Cut from the same cloth
With the same die

Even though you are liberated and free
Letting it all go
As you wish and as you please

Crazy hair
Crazy art
Crazy life

Whereas I am conservative and uptight
Keeping it all in
Never forgetting what others may think

Sensible hair
Sensible art
Sensible life

That may be
Where our differences lie
But yet
Where our similarities rise

Friday, February 25, 2011

I Hate You

I Hate You
By: James Dubeau

I hate you
To the ends
Of my very being
I hate you
Rage that knows
No bounds
I hate you
A passion
Fist at jaw
I hate you
A passion
That burns
My very soul
I hate you
A passion
That burns
So cold
That my veins are sliced
By icy blood

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Your Court

Your Court
By: James Dubeau

Little green ball
Tossed from my hand
Reaching high
For the sky
Before plummeting back
My racket sings
Through the air
Impacting upon
The fuzzy orb
Sending it hurtling
Away from me
With all my pent up
Into the hard realities
Of wooden walls
Rebounding now
The little planetoid
Returns to me
What that I had
Sent away
Goes my racket again
Doubling my force
Doubling my effort
The ball returns
With heated fervor
Racket swings wide
Letting the ball
Get away
From me
From my racket
From my repeated bashing
But now I am ready
To get underway
With a grin
I pickup the ball
And flick it
Across the net
Are you ready?

Monday, February 21, 2011

Hit The Page

Hit The Page
By: James Dubeau

That is what
They say
When you are
When you are
When you are
Just keep them
Fingers on moving
Just keep them typing
Across those keys
Keep that Pen
Scribbling ink
Keep the thoughts
The emotions
The dreams
Sooner or later
Something may come
Something decent
Shall hit the page

Friday, February 18, 2011


By: James Dubeau


No matter how hard
I work
No matter how hard
I sweat
No matter how hard
I try


Never fail
Sand beneath my feet
Sinks away
Leaving me trapped
Just out of reach

No one to blame
But myself
For letting the
Of my brain
My good intentions
My hard work
My goals
Leaving me

Empty handed

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

You & I

You & I
By: James Dubeau

Do you remember?
What you did
Do you remember?
How you felt
Do you remember?
The satisfaction you had
Do you remember?
The torment you caused
Do you remember?

I will not forget!
What you did
I will not forget!
How I felt
I will not forget!
The disappointment I had
I will not forget!
The torment I suffered
I will not forget!

I hope
What you did
Was worth it
I will not
Not now
Not ever

Monday, February 14, 2011

To All Those

To All Those
By: James Dubeau

To all those
That I’ve loved
Through the good
And the bad
Those were experiences
We did have
Things that I’ll
Never forget
Will never surrender
To the sands of time
Now that you are gone
And life is
How it is
How it was
Leaving me
For these days
As time grows short
And night
Grows longer
We shall go
Our different ways
I do hope
That you are well
And that it all
Does work out swell
For as it stands
I do say
That to all those
That I have loved
My feelings stay clear
And I still do
Love you so
So have a happy
Valentines Day
This year
And the next
For nothing else
Shall bring me joy

Friday, February 11, 2011

China Doll Crimson

China Doll Crimson
By: James Dubeau

China doll eyes
Greeted my gaze
And drunken haze
My wet left hand
Lay in a crimson pool
Wrapped around the waist
Of the ginger haired girl
Particles floated through
Lighted streams
Of the morning
Western sun
A wicked red grin
Etched across the face
Of the girl with raven hair
A grin which will never
Rise once again
Stabbing pain
Wracked my mind
Their porcelain skin
Was marred
No longer pure
No longer lithe
No longer
No longer
Cobwebs slowly cleared
Letting me see through the veil
Dripping prints from my hands
Covered the women
The sheets
The walls
The knife
In my right hand
My fingers twitch
Feeling the blade
For the first time
The last time
I threw it away
Away from me
Away from the dead
Through the window
Town came alive
Streets filled with people
Making their merry way
On the street corner
Looking up at me
Was the man dressed in black
His gaze met mine
Before returning to his
Silver pocket watch
He knows what happened
He knows what I did
He knows it all
I must get away
Far away from this place
Wash away the blood
And the lies
And this life
And just keep moving on
Before it all
Comes crashing down

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

Down This Path

Down This Path
By: James Dubeau

It is just so hard
To keep putting
One foot after the other
Down this path
That lies before me
As it twists and turns
Through the countryside
Climbing steep hills
Over outcroppings of rock
And fording icy streams
Which threaten to wash out
My unguided path
A foot falls
And falls
And falls
After the last
Before the next
Leaving me
It is just so hard
My feet keep falling
Dragging forward
Down this path
That lies before me

Monday, February 07, 2011

Patriarch Patron

Patriarch Patron
By: James Dubeau

At the edge
Of the long
He sits
Not an emotion shows
Upon his face
As music plays
And rowdy cheers
Float on by
His black suit
Masks his aging body
In dark shadows
His white beard
And head of hair
Seemingly float
A pocket watch
Glitters in the faint light
Silver chain
Reaches to his
Vest pocket
His eyes
Seem to study
The ticking hands
As I return
My attention
To my companions
He looks to me
A gleam in his eye
And then
He is

Friday, February 04, 2011

Black Horizon

Black Horizon
By: James Dubeau

White foam breaks
Impenetrable darkness
Of incoming waves
Whose blackness extends
An incalculable distance
Reaching towards
The starless sky
Water laps
Upon my toes
Slowly washing away
Removing all trace
Of my existence
From this earth
Each step
Brings the invisible horizon
Water washes past
Cleansing my soul
Enveloping me
Devouring me
For once I have been baptized
By the depths
I shall scream out
And become
No more

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

Everything Has Changed

Everything Has Changed
By: James Dubeau

Everything has changed
Litter across my cerebral countryside
Battered this feeble mind
But there is hope
Incoherent babbling hope
Ripe for the plunder
Now before it is too late
If only I could
Revolutionize my dreams to
Embark upon the future’s quests

Tuesday, February 01, 2011

Ravishly Imagined Never

Ravishly Imagined Never
By: James Dubeau

Wrapped only in darkness
Our two bodies writhe
Passionately devouring
Feverishly hands
Rake across skin
Pulling you to me
And me into you
Silken sheets drape
Across our bodies
Our legs
Our bodies together
Star shine
Filters through
Illuminating you and I
Eyes lock
For mere moments
Taking it all in
Before attacking
Once again lost
In deliciously carnal


My hand reaches
Across the bed
Nothing but sheets
Eyes flash open
To nothingness
You were not here
Not with me
Not tonight
Not ever
Chilled air
Raises mountains
Gooseflesh upon my arms
Entire body
There was no way
You could have
Been with me
As always
Everything is a bit
Sadness overtakes me
Only briefly
Replaced by a wolfish grin
Eyes close
As my mind
And dances
With the
Technicolor dream
Before it fades
With the dull gray
Lights of dawn

Friday, January 28, 2011

Eighteen Weeks

Eighteen Weeks
(Inspired by Merle Travis’s “Sixteen Tons”.)
By: James Dubeau

They say a man is nothing but grit
This lone man can never quit
Never quit and keep on goin'
The towel will never be thrown on in

You go eighteen weeks, what do you get
A little bit stronger and faster I’ll bet
Ambition don’t you leave me ‘cause I can’t stop
Not ‘till this demon flies away from here

I had awoken one day when the clouds did part
I picked up my head and raised my heart
I’ll go for eighteen weeks on the hard road
As long as these feelings do not erode

You go eighteen weeks, what do you get
A little bit stronger and faster I’ll bet
Ambition don’t you leave me ‘cause I can’t stop
Not ‘till this demon flies away from here

I had awoken one day with a mind that’s clear
Just knowing that there was nothing to fear
For the worst of it all had come and gone
And I had gained quite a bit of brawn

You go eighteen weeks, what do you get
A little bit stronger and faster I’ll bet
Ambition don’t you leave me ‘cause I can’t stop
Not ‘till this demon flies away from here

While on the trail just get out of my way
Those who wouldn’t would always pay
With a left and a right I’m knocking ‘em down
That is until I can wear the crown

You go eighteen weeks, what do you get
A little bit stronger and faster I’ll bet
Ambition don’t you leave me ‘cause I can’t stop
Not ‘till this demon flies away from here

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

The Battle of Paper & Clip

It was proactive and action-oriented vice
Curved around its self twice or slyly slight thrice
For Clip was firm and held things in place
And Paper seldom exceeded plead, just-in-case

From a box of many it came
Here to keep these Papers tame
Assistant to red-tape, it had many uses
Manipulated, it could be bent and twirled as abuses

And the Paper would line, waiting for ink
Sometimes teetering right next to the brink
Deskination, brings about jag and rip
And so this is the battle of Paper & Clip


It's places filled with spaces
And spaces between places
People away from people
And people away from themselves
As people in present places, outside
Other blocks of stacked spaces
Hide inside spaces of themselves too
As she hides herself, he hides himself too
Although, just as most too
People and places
Are merged
With inner and outer spaces
Come to better places
(far away)

Sunday, January 09, 2011

Run Real Fast

Wow! Another great day
I feel somewhat mighty
Like I can conquer the day
Except for what you say
And can run really fast.....
Right off a building
On the way way down I think
You Think?
I fall really fast
Right through error
This wasn't for me
Smashing really hard...fuc.