Potential Energy

Potential Energy
By: James Dubeau

Goals
Are an interesting
And fickle beast
A firm wall
To bust through
Or bash your head upon
They give you
A progress bar
To judge yourself upon
How am I doing
Will I ever finish
Do I have what it takes
The funny
Little thing
Called
Potential
Does it live
In my heart
My mind
My soul
Or even in my
Little toe
Sitting there
At the cliff’s edge
Ready to plummet
Come alive
With energy
Bashing through
Obstacles
Rushing past
Goals
And those
Oh so elusive
Resolutions
Made every
New Year
The trick
Of it all
Is to keep
Momentum
While surging ahead
And that is what
I plan on doing
This year

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

Death Of Me

Death Of Me
By: James Dubeau

The warning signs where there
From the very first day
When I drove that car
Down the snowy thoroughfares
When she bucked
And she slid
With no traction at all
Did I finally realize
I had not anti-lock breaks
Fortunately though
As the snow bank drew near
The tires did grip
Saving me
From certain destruction
However that was
But only the beginning
Of the trials and tribulations
That car has been through
For it has run into a brick wall
Backed into a mailbox
Shot with a BB gun
And covered with eggs
On a cold winter night
About a year ago
It was even rear ended
Cracking up the bumper
One of the worst
Was a few months ago
When I was merging onto the highway
In the dark or night
Traffic barrels guided me
As I merged from the left
Semi truck headlights blinded me
Threatening to run me over
Merging cautiously
But a bit to slow
The mirror caught a barrel
Popping it from the frame
Tonight however
I am glad
That I never replaced the mirror
For when I returned
To my loving car
From an evening with friends
The entire mirror assembly
Was no where to be seen
Once again my poor car
Had been hit
And scarred
Against this world
So remember this friends
When I die in the car
That you read it here first
My car which I adore
Will be
The death of me

Time

Time
By: James Dubeau

Sand slips through my fingers
As each day hurtle past
My grasp tightens
Trying
Desperately
To hold on
But it is to no avail
Grains slip through
Cracks and crevices
Behind me
An old man laughs
At my foolishness
He tips an hourglass
Sending the sand
Racing through my fingers
No
I scream
These are good times
Let them last
With my youth
His only response
Is continued laughter
And tipping the hourglass
Even further
Hastening my sand
Sun and moon
Flash by overhead
Submersing me in darkness and light
Days
Weeks
Months
Years
Fly on past
Time and time again
I scream in pain
My soul wracked
In deep torment
The old man laughs
Red glows behind beady eyes
Returning the hourglass
To how it once was
Sand no longer flows
While a sliver of moon
Grinds to a halt
High above me
No longer the anguish of
A happy life
Speeding by
Ravages me
For now a darker place
Grips my soul
Turning it most foul
Make it grow fast again
I whimper
The good times are gone
Wasted so fast
Only death and torment
Surround me now
It is much too painful
So I beg of you
Make time fly
Once more
Bring me to good times
Then slow it down
Let me enjoy happiness
Not suffer prolonged anguish
Once more he laughed
Shaking his finger at me
While caressing the hourglass
You shall submit to my will
For I control that
Which you hold most dear
This daemon was right
Soon madness will grasp me
Twisting and contorting my soul
I fell to my knees
And wept

Universal Thais

After two years in China where Blogger is blocked by the government via The Great Chinese Firewall, this is my first post since 2008. In Thailand, not near as much is blocked, unless it is critical of The King. The assignment was to write a short paragraph comprising of at least five sentences about the happiest day of your life. The following was written by a fifteen-year-old in an Elementary English class of mine. His name is Bank and he was born and raised in Bangkok, Thailand.

The picture above is of the Soi, or alleyway, where my building is located near the Wong Wian Yai area in Bangkok.

"I don't have any happiest day in my life because in my own life I only have bad days, so so and good days. When I meet the bad day I will smile and laugh because it's just the waves like the sea in my life. I think that the people's life is like the sea - some days it'll be cloudy but sometimes it'll be sunny. I can't avoid them that's why I have to smile for my sake and for my family so that they don't have to look so down when they see me in a bad mood. But when I meet the good day I'll remember it because humans don't meet their good days every day. I just remember it and I don't want to smile because sometime when I meet the happiest day I have to hurt other people. Sometimes I know it but sometimes I don't know how I hurt people's feelings. That's why I don't have the happiest day, I just remember it and walk...my own way of life."

Thoughts?

Hiatus

Hiatus

By: James Dubeau

What a long

Strange trip

It has been

With all the poetry

And short stories

That have flowed

But for now

Unfortunately it must

All be put aside

Harsh realities

That are life

Have caught up with me

Blood has fallen

Upon the sand

Demanding full attention

But whenever

The must strikes me

My words shall return

Until that next time

To all my readers

I must say

Thank you

Ignis Part 7

Ignis Part 7:
By: James Dubeau

Everyone in this town is weak. Their soft bellies would burn to a cinder in a single day under the hot sun. The desert consumes all that enter her, all that do not respect her.

I had spent years alone in the desert. Nothing but the sun, my thoughts, and the spirits to keep me company. All that I needed the desert provided. Civilization has nothing but fragile beings, useless shops, and worthless laws. The only law I follow is the law of the desert, survival of the fittest. Death is the punishment for those that try to beak the law.

Just because I am telling you these things does not mean that I am weak like you boy. The spirits and I see a resemblance of myself in you. There are times where I yearn for the innocence I once had when I was your age.

The last scraps of my innocence were ripped away by a band of desert raiders. They took away my freedom amongst the desert. It took many to over come Maska and me. More than a few of them still lay on that canyon floor. Before I knew it I was brought to the cities and sold into slavery.

The life of a slave is not one I would wish upon my enemies. Those that fall in combat deserve to be killed, not to be paraded like a trophy. The day grows long and the desert heat is receding. Tales of my slave days will have to wait until I return to this weak underbelly of civilization.

Tomorrow? My three partners and I will begin a journey guiding a caravan through the desert. The spirits say the voyage will be the first step in my vengeance. Loose threads are to be uncovered by the shifting sands of time.

Do yourself a favor boy. Stay clear of me when my eyes glow with fire and rage. All which stand between vengeance and me will be torn asunder and immolated by my wrath.

Ignis Part 6

Ignis Part 6:
By: James Dubeau

Don’t insult me with such foolish questions boy. I am here telling you this tale, am I not?

The hellish lizard stood over me. His gravely voice shook me from my dieing dream with a single word, rise. Strength had long deserted my body. I could not heed his command. Again he said rise, this time I was rattled to my very essence. On shear willpower alone was my body able to stand in the desert sun. Beyond my control, my feet were compelled to follow the spirit beast over the dune and the next. Upon cresting the third dune I fell to my knees. At the foot of the sand hill was a small pool of water flanked by fruit bearing bushes. It could not be real. I could not handle being taken in by another mirage.

Finding that my strength had left me I fell back to the soft bed of sand. The beast looked to me and the gleam in his eye told me all that I needed to know. I was expected to follow him. I heaved my body over, rolling down the sand dune.

The sand rolled with me. As if it was carrying me. Not bearing to look upon the mirage I dared not open my eyes. My fingers dipped into the pool. The cool water was a fire upon my cracked and parched skin.

Yes, the lizard sprit I had been following was in fact Maska. As I drank he spoke to me but I was not ready for what he had to say. He told me that he was to be my companion from that point forward, that nature’s spirits had seen what had happened to my family that day and that my strength and conviction was felt. They had peered into the twisting future and divined that I would bring justice to those who preyed upon my family.

Since that day I have learned how to listen to all of the spirits that flow around me, around you, around everything. They have taught me much about the desert and about myself. Maska taught me how to forage for food, how to be patient with the swirling sands, and how to defend myself with his aid. The sprits have spoken and turned me into the desert shaman that I have become. I have become a new being and to signify this transformation I took on my new name of Ignis.

Ignis Part 5

Ignis Part 5:
By: James Dubeau

Do your bones wish to rest atop a sand dune to be bleached? That is the fate of those that make demands. I’ll get back to the tale of my youth soon enough. For now another refreshing drink is in order before my parched lips move again.

Thank you barkeep. Now I am ready to continue. Listen up because I will not repeat myself.

My young self had just escaped from my family’s doomed caravan. With the burning wagons I left behind my family, my life, and all that I have ever known.

Death stalked me that morning. A large man with scythe and black hooded robe may not have been visible but his presence was felt. Swirling sand blinded and misguided as the hot sun beat the very life out of me. Delirium washed over me as thirst and hunger battled for my soul. Pools of water and tall palm trees danced just beyond my reach. My parched tongue desired to have just a sip but there was no water to be found amongst the mirages that simply vanished when I approached. When my weary legs finally faulted the sand was softer than any bed I had ever known. I was doomed to follow my mother and father into the afterlife. It was a fate I welcomed.

My unwavering eyes locked onto the sun, blurring my vision to white while I waited for the giant red beast to devour me. I don’t know how long I lay upon that dune too weak to move. Just as I felt my end draw near a swirling darkness encroached upon my vision. Somehow I choked out a laugh, relived that my time had ended. My laughter was cut short as the darkness took the form of a giant black lizard. The sun glistened off of his black translucent body. Just looking at the beast’s sharp claws and wicked smile I knew that he would tear my spirit from my flesh, devouring my soul for a voyage to damnation.

For the first time that day a true terror struck my heart.

Ignis Part 4

Ignis Part 4:
By: James Dubeau

Don’t waste your breath apologizing about my mother. We live on a harsh desert covered world boy. Softness only begets death. Both of my parents as well as everything I had known died on that sand that morning. Mourning their passing is something that I must put behind myself if I am to continue my survival.

Unfortunately I know not of who attacked my father’s caravan or for what reason. It is not uncommon for caravans to be attacked by desert nomads or bandits. Even though my memories of that morning are nothing but a murky mess I do not believe the attack was random by either nomads or bandits. Our wagons were burned to the sand and no survivors were left. Nomads and bandits only fight for supplies, trade goods, and slaves. Complete destruction of a caravan would not be what they are after.

Our caravan could have been hunted by those that despise my kind. My red skin, horns, and tail are the marks of an infernal being. It is a demonic appearance which has been a curse upon my kind for as long as history remembers. There are those that fear us for the hell spawn that we represent. That we are to be killed before our knives drink enough blood to pay the blood debt our ancestors have put upon us. My hatred of those that look down upon my kind drives me to want to believe that my family was killed by those that abhor and fear my kind. However the attack was too well organized, too well orchestrated for a band of fear mongers.

Those desert raiders could have been mercenaries hired by a rival merchant house. Thinning out the competition can always be a strong motivation. Unfortunately I had not heard of any other merchants being wiped out in the same period of time. One would think that if a merchant house had nefarious schemes to wipe out their competition they would have take care of more than just a single competitor.

My ear has been to the sand ever since that day, listening for clues as to who killed my mother and father. Some day I will find out who was behind the attack and only their spilled blood will pay the debt that is owed. Only the fear that any trace as to who assaulted the caravan has been lost to the shifting sands of time keeps me awake when the sun sets. Vengeance shall be vicious and it shall be mine.

Ignis Part 3

Ignis Part 3:
By: James Dubeau

There is nothing like a cool refreshing drink on a hot afternoon. Now, where was I? Oh yes, desert raiders were attacking my father’s caravan.

Believe it or not but I was frozen in fright. As a young son of a wealthy merchant I did not know my way around a blade. Training for me had always been with the goal of becoming a merchant not to become a warrior. The closest I had ever been to blood spilled from men was at the gladiatorial pits. Never have I had another man’s blood spilled upon me before.

Even though I shall never forget that morning the battle was nothing but a blur. Raiders riding out of the rising sun, crimson soaked sand, death wails of the wounded, and thick black smoke from the burning caravan wagons. My feet were frozen, as if I was half sunk in quicksand. I could not move to run or defend myself. Surely my fate was to be the same as my parents and their caravan.

Don’t be flippant boy, of course I survived. I’m here telling you this story now aren’t I? Do you want to hear the rest of my story? Then shut up and listen.

My father grabbed my hand and dragged me away from the fighting. Somehow my feet began to move, marching me with him. It wasn’t until we were on the other side of a burning wagon that his words broke through the cacophony of battle. He ordered me to run, begged me to run. The corners of his harsh eyes were wet with tears, an emotion I had never seen upon his face before or would ever see again.

All that I could do was nod dumbly and run away from the fighting. There were no last words that I could have said to him. I was too young to truly understand what was happening, that I would never see my father or mother again.

Somehow I escaped the battle. I don’t know how or why my tracks in the sand were never followed. My old man must have had a trick or two up his sleeve to conceal my escape. He gave his life to spare mine, sending me alone into the desert with the thick black smoke of the burning caravan disappearing into the horizon behind me. I had no water, no map, and no idea how to survive on my own.

My mother? No, I did not forget to mention her. I prefer not to speak of her death that day. She was standing next to me that morning. An arrow found her heart when the raiders first swarmed from the sun. Her blood was the first that splashed upon me that morning.

Ignis Part 2

Ignis Part 2:
By: James Dubeau

Are you enjoying the fruit juice boy?

Don’t let those shifting sands out there mislead you. We all have a history, even this forsaken desert world. If you dig deep enough into the past you will find hidden secrets, events that have shaped each of us into who they are today. Even this world has secrets. It was once vibrant, green, and full of life. Hard to imagine with nothing but sand and silt from here to the horizon but it would be easy to envision if you knew what happened over the ages.

I’ll let you in on one of the secrets from my history. Ignis is not my given name. My childhood name was Morthos Crescens. I was not a child of a slave or left to die in the streets like so many. My father was a wealthy merchant and my mother was from a aristocratic blood line which made me a noble of sorts.

No, I was not of a merchant house you have ever heard of. It doesn’t matter, they are merchants no longer. Getting back to my story, it was a blessed childhood. I had fresh fruit and water with every meal, slaves kept sand out of the home, there was plenty of time to play every day, and I even received a first rate education. When was the last time you met someone that knows how to read and write?

Languages, history, and arithmetic were not the only studies that were presented to me. See that candle over there? With a snap of my fingers it is lit. My tutors had taught me much about the psionic arts in the few short years that I had them. How different things would have been if I had been allowed to finish my training.

Just like the vibrant green life of this world, my blessed years had been violently cut short. The life of a merchant is full of trade expeditions through the desert wastes. On one such voyage the caravan never made it to the destination. I can remember that morning like it was yesterday.

From the rising red sun desert raiders swooped down from the dunes. They were not seen until they were upon us. The guards stood no chance against their speed and fury. Every member of the caravan was cut down. No one was spared, not even to be taken as slaves. Blood flowed freely upon the sand on that day.

Let me refresh your drink before I continue my story.

Ignis Part 1

Ignis Part 1:
By: James Dubeau

Who am I? Utter another word to me boy and I will send you to meet the spirits. All that you need to know is that the stories are true. I am a desert devil. I am death incarnate. Now leave me be before my wrath is invoked. Stow that tongue of yours before I drag you to the searing lands deep in the southern desert for the vultures to rip you asunder.

Do your ears not work boy? Can you not see that I am the very essence of the darkest recesses in your worst nightmares? My coal black eyes will devour your soul as my sharp teeth feast upon your flesh. Your blood will spill over my lips and nourish my crimson skin. These horns and tail are only a symbol of the infernal rage that burns deep within my being, a rage that you do not want to see.

Maska demands to know why you risk certain death. Why do you continue to ask foolish questions?

Oh no, I am not Maska. He is one of the many spirits swirling around you. When I twirl my carved wooden staff you will hear his wail. Can you hear him sing? He commands you to speak, to tell why you want to know who I am. Only a suitable answer will do or he will eat your still beating heart out of your chest.

So it is your friends that have put you up to asking about me. Maska is pleased, and so am I. Your boldness will serve you well. Would you like to see my spirit friend? His visage is not for the faint of heart. Do you see the great lizard sprit Maska? His translucent black body shimmers in the sunlight. He is just as demonic as I. That you can see from his spines, horns, and teeth.

Who am I? My name is Ignis, but a name only scratches the surface of who I am. There are many words that one can use to describe me: vile, vicious, harsh, ruthless, selfish, wise, intelligent, cursed, jaded, demonic, freed slave, shaman, healer, leader, and noble. I am as many different things as there are grains of sand in the desert. When the mood strikes me I’ll cup a precious cactus flower in my hands letting its soft beauty play out amongst my harsh skin. Other times a flick of my wrist will burn the same flower to a cinder just so that I may watch it be reduced to ash in my hands.

The day grows hot. Sit down and have a drink. There is much more I have to share.

Plodding Herd

Plodding Herd
By: James Dubeau

Plodding herd
Slowly stumbles
Through savanna grass
No beast
Of hoof or claw
Can make it through
The massive bodies
Clogging the valleys
Meaty bodies
Shrugging off
Predator teeth
With labored huffs
As the herd
Slowly plods on

Slow

Slow
By: James Dubeau

Slow
Every move
Every action
Every thought
Is slow
Plodding along
Not bubbling
To the surface
Until it is too late
Much too late
For anything to be done

When I Close My Eyes

When I Close My Eyes
By: James Dubeau

When I close my eyes
My mind drifts to you
Laying beside me
Illuminated by moonlight
With that twinkle in your eye
I reach for you
To pull you in
Hold you close
But my hands come up empty
I cannot touch
Hear
Smell
See
Or taste you
But that is my penance
To be paid
For the exuberance I feel
When I see you again

Limited Dance

Limited Dance
By: James Dubeau

Eyes are droopy
From daily activities
But
Fingers bounce
Dancing along with the music
Keeping the beat
With the music
Movement
Which keeps me awake
Wanting more
Needing to move
Needing to dance
But alas
There is not enough room
And my foggy brain
Does not allow
For these movements
Not tonight
My eyes must close
Imagining myself
Moving
Twirling
Leaping
Dancing
Along with the music
Reverberating off the walls
Of my squalor home

This Glowing Screen

This Glowing Screen
By: James Dubeau

This glowing screen
Before my eyes
Is a torment
Of daemons
And devils
For once it is lit
During the darkest of night
My eyes cannot close
Sleep becomes my plight
Sooner or later
I shall learn
To take up a sword
And vanquish those
Who oppose weary slumber

Dear Muse

Dear Muse
By: James Dubeau

Dear Muse
How can I
Be inspired
When you torment me so
With that smile
And twinkle in your eye
Every time we meet
You leave me
Battered and bruised
My weary fingers
Cannot grasp a pen
It trips and falls
Before making a scratch
But your mark is there
Handprints upon the wall
A sign of the times
We had together
Marks that should
That could
That would
Wake me from this
Weary slumber
Shake cobwebs
From heavy eyes
Guide my hand
Across the page
Letting loose
Torrents of black
Upon the sea of white
An uninterrupted river
Of consciousness
Instilled by
Fiery passions
Which burn
Long and deep
Feeding me
Providing strength
Until I lapse
Needing you again
So my muse
This I must ask
Please
Leave me some vigor
Let me achieve
A full night sleep
For once
So that I may
Regain that
Which I had lost
My sanity
My mind
Drumming up poetry
And stories
For you
For me
For any that read

Insomnia Thoughts

Insomnia Thoughts
By: James Dubeau

As I lay here
In my bed
My eyes are closed
But not my head
Body aches
It’s not well fed
Mind races
Reviewing what’s said
Filling it all
With fear and dread
But I must keep
Tugging at this thread
For sooner or later
I shall be dead

Computerized Thoughts

Computerized Thoughts
By: James Dubeau

What if there was a way
To download to computer
All that I am thinking
And have stored away
From this head of mine
Then I could have
Each thought
Each idea
Each emotion
Displayed out
On a 3D
Holographic
Computerized
Display table
All would be shown
As a tangled web
Of images
Before I flick my hand
An it all straightens out
Into a thin line
Of scrambled images
To the table’s edge
Slowly my fingers move
Flicking images up and down
And all around
To several different piles
Of like minded
Hopes and dreams
Fears and despair
And those little
Every day quarks
Which keep this mind running
Near peak efficiency
These sorted little piles
Could tell me
Exactly what is riding
Locked away in my head
Then I could
Decide what is needed
What is extraneous
What should be acted upon
What can be left along
And what is just
Complete and utter trash

Large Red Numbers

Large Red Numbers
By: James Dubeau

Large red numbers
Dimly illuminate
Counting down the minutes
Until the morning sun rises
This bed
Is not as comfortable
As it once was
The secrets of sleep
Are no longer provided
Thoughts race on by
While I lay
Awake
No matter how heavy
My eyes have become
No longer
Can I lay
With arms around my pillow
It is not the same
As it once was
With a heavy sigh
I roll over
But you are not there
My arms will remain empty
While another minute
Ticks by on the
Large red numbers

Pen And Napkin

Pen And Napkin
By: James Dubeau

Here I sit
Waiting for
God know who
To show up
And all that I have
To keep myself
Entertained
Is my Pen
This napkin
And all the
Jack and Cokes
I can drink
While my money
Holds out
Good thing
This old brain
Of mine
Is easily amused
That the thought
Of putting
Ink to paper
Is all that I need
To keep me going
On this night
Any other person
Would have gone
Insane
With the dancing
And the music
That floods
This establishment
As the first patrons
Filter on through
One by one

Can I Get Love On Lay-Away

Can I Get Love On Lay-Away
By: James Dubeau

Cleanup in aisle three
A scratchy voice rings
Over a defunct
PA system
Across stark shelves
And harsh floor tiles
So highly polished
Glaring fluorescent bulbs
Reflect back
In high detail
Glass scraping upon a dustpan
Reverberates off
Hard surfaces
Sharp corners
And the corrugated metal ceiling
Illuminated in flashing blue lights
At the edge of the row
An employee crouches
Hunched over broken glass
And crimson stains
Working a dustpan and broom
Excuse me sir
I ask timidly
Sweaty hands jingle
Spare pocket change
His eyes glare back
Digging deep into me
Not wanting to be disturbed
But I must ask
Before I leave
Can I get love
On lay-away

What Is This

What Is This
By: James Dubeau

What is this
What is happening
Why do I do this
To myself
Reaching out for that
Which I cannot have
Should not have
But I want you
And I need you
And you will be mine
My tasty little friend
Soon you will be
Inside of me
A quaint dessert
Of my liking
My little
Chocolate Extreme
Blizzard
Ice cream
Treat

Horizon

Horizon
By: James Dubeau

Over the horizon
Just out of sight
Lays an untold future
Full of mystery and delight
If each step is placed
As carefully as can be
Then all will be happy
And good for me
But
If just one step
Is placed out of line
Then the land beyond
Would be treacherous
And in full decline
Full of snakes and thorns
And creatures of the night
That is the risk I’ll take
In this trek tonight

The Tools I Carry

The Tools I Carry
By: James Dubeau

Belt weighed down
By many of my tools
Tape measure
For measuring 2x4s
Flashlight
To see into darkened corners
PDA
To record it all with
And inspection kit
Packed to the brim
Inside that opened top kit
Are most of the tools
That are used
Every day
Electrical tester
For 2-prong outlets
Electrical tester
For GFCI protection
Electrical tester
When no contact is needed
Small mirror
For hidden numbers
Extendable magnet
To evaluate gutter metal
Or sometimes
To fin a wayward screw
A pick
To prove wet wood
Digital thermometer
For water temperature
Ball point pen
For signing contracts
Pen style stylus
To tap in my notes
On the temperamental PDA
Shirt pocket bulges
With 2-way radio
For communication
With the boss
My satchel lays
Down in the basement
Atop the clothes dryer
With the rest of my tools
Electric screw gun
For removing panels
Ratcheting screwdriver
With oh so many bits
For challenging screws
Breath mask
And goggles
And suit
For attic excursions
Laser thermometer gun
To check ACs
Back-up batteries
Incase the flashlight dies
Moisture meter
To prove my suspicions
Business cards
In one pocket
Microwave beanbag
In another
Indoor only shoes
Fill out the bottom
So that mud and snow
Encrusted boots
Don’t track across
Fresh carpeting and clean floors
Leaning against the front door
Are items to big to carry
My short step stool
To see a little higher
And my collapsible
Telescoping
12-foot
Ladder
To get upon roofs
Locked away in the truck
Far out at the curb
Are the rest of the tools
Unused every day
But important every month
To ensure that everything runs smooth
While inspecting
The house

Twin Muses Dance

Twin Muses Dance

By: James Dubeau

Twin muses dance

Swirling

Twirling

About me

Ribbons of shear silk

Wash over my body

As I attempt

To hold their hands

And keep up

With the passionate dances

Youthful exuberance

Beams from one’s smile

Her eyes flutter with joy

But it is those eyes

That never quite meet mine

Always peering off

To that of another

Ages old wisdom

Radiate from the other

But her eyes

Never look with mine

To a future

Of inspired creativity

With her by my side

Two muses dance

Around me

Filling my eyes and heart

With joy

And creativity

And inspiration

My moment is now

While my muses are here

For me

With me

I should pull them close

Hold them tight

Take them up

On their offers to dance

Before the night grows dark

And my muses float off

Leaving me

Alone

What I Wouldn’t Give

What I Wouldn’t Give

By: James Dubeau

What I wouldn’t give

To hold you tight

In my arms

What I wouldn’t give

To have your body

Pressed against mine

What I wouldn’t give

To feel your chest heave

With every breath

What I wouldn’t give

To smell your hair

And its intoxicating bouquet

What I wouldn’t give

To kiss you softly

As we fall asleep together

What I wouldn’t give

To have the moon and stars

Rise and fall above us

What I wouldn’t give

To see your beaming smile

When we both awaken

What I wouldn’t give

To have you as mine

And to be only yours

What I wouldn’t give

Here I Sit

Hear I Sit

By: James Dubeau

Here I sit

On a ledge

Over looking the country side

Far below

My dangling legs

Waves crash upon the lake shore

Why am I up here

One might ask

Atop this Mountainous outcropping

All alone

With my thoughts

Where not another soul can be seen

There can only be

A single reason

I wasn’t lonely enough in my bedroom

Lying In Bed

Lying In Bed

By: James Dubeau

Lying in bed

Nothing is said

For I am one

Tired

Road dog

Eyes are red

Heavy with sleep

But my work isn’t done

As I lay here

Pondering about sleep

And dreading the day to come

Unfinished work begins to eek out

From these weary fingers

Something has gotta give

And with a little luck

A muse’s call is answered

It may just be a little something

For tonight

But I’ll take what I can get

And that is all I need

To fall asleep

Happy

Vacation Haiku Day

Hopefully you won't mind, but since I'm on vacation I didn't really have a chance to finish a poem for today. So, I'll post some Haikus that I wrote today in a Haiku inspired email conversation I had with friends today. Thank you for reading and please enjoy.

I am so sorry
What it takes escapes today
I cannot converse

You guys are awesome
Thank you very much Brandon
Isn't this much fun?

That is no haiku
You are counting syllables
Write a good poem

Dearest Nathanial
Depends on how you say words
Fudge syllable count

Rhapsody Infecting Nymph

Rhapsody Infecting Nymph

By: James Dubeau

Everything you do

runs through my head

igniting deep desires.

Never before has this

rhapsody been sung

infecting what transpires.

But I’m left to dream of

brown or green

little old thing you wear.

Ensuring my heart grows fires.

On My Mind

On My Mind
By: James Dubeau

How did I get here
How did I get home
I don’t remember the drive
Not a turn
Not a stop light
Not tonight
But it was not the fault
Of the devil drink
Oh no
Not tonight
Only one thing
Had been circling my mind
Keeping me from sleeping
Keeping me from eating
Keeping me from living
This one thing
Reduces me to
Fits of rage
Tears or joy
And
Bouts of confusion
Someday maybe
I shall see the light
But tonight
Unfortunately
Is not the night
For I’ll be forced to
Toss and turn
Lost deep in my
Internal monologue
Sorting out
That which is
On my mind

Half Finished

Half Finished
By: James Dubeau

Everything I touch
Does not get
The due dilligance
It deserves
Somewhere along the way
The train is derailed
And projects are buried
Under mounts of paperwork
Lost
And forgotten
Ending in
Mid thought
Mid sentence
Mid word

The Heart Must Journey

The Heart Must Journey
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
An impasse will be reached
Trails blocked off
By this natural disaster or that
But the hike must go on
If paradise is to be reached
For the heat to grow
And beat strong
Once again

Art Show

Art Show
By: James Dubeau

Smooth jazz flows
Over the nooks and crannies
Of the exhibition hall
Washing over all
Who take in
The many paintings
Of nature
And wildlife
Upon the walls
In the breaths
Between the songs
Bubbling brook of voices
Rolls through
Only temporarily before
Laughter punctuates
And music starts again

Nectar Of The Gods

Nectar Of The Gods
By: James Dubeau

Here I sit
All alone
And the waitress
Does not heed
My need
Just like back home
Amongst the pool tables
Where the game is played
How long
Will it take
For me to receive
The beverage of the gods
It could be right now
If she graced me
With her presence
But I will not
Go ask for it myself
She should know
My wants and needs
Before I even ask
But if she cannot
Bring me a beer
Before I even ask
Then what is the point
Of it all
For that is her job
And I tip well
For the nectar
Of the gods

Mating Dance

Mating Dance
By: James Dubeau

Lightning bugs scatter
About the spotlight
Dancing hear and there
In search of a mate
Not far below
In the beer garden
Men and women
Do the same
Smiles on faces
Beer in glasses
As the mating dance
Is perpetrated

The Ending

The Ending
By: James Dubeau

Floating through life
In a melancholy haze
Neither good
Nor bad
Just unhappy
Bobbing along
With you
It would be easy
With a fight
A sudden break
To change it all
But that will not happen
Not you and I
We are too copasetic
Somehow I must
Scrounge up the courage
Be the bigger person
And end it all
You are not happy
I am not happy
We are not happy
Together
All it will take
Is a few simple words
To say that I’m leaving
That we will be happy
Moving on with our lives
Apart
There will be tears
And heart ache
But it is what must be done
For us to move on
To make a better life

Dilapidated Headphones

Dilapidated Headphones
By: James Dubeau

Head nodding
Bouncing back and fourth
To the melody
Screaming across
Dilapidated headphones
Pulsing
Throbbing
Gyrating
Along the beat
Hammering through bone
Reducing gray matter
To painful mush
Sharp cornered plastic
Cuts into ears
Leaving flesh soft
Bruised and bloody
But it is all a relief
From the daily grind
An escape
From harsh realties
Of a life lived
On the edge of poverty
On the edge of starvation
On the edge of death
Only the music
Brings solace

Choices

Choices
By: James Dubeau

When the month
Grows short
And the eyes
Grow heavy
My mind starts to wonder
Down the many paths
It has been down
Before
Sorting and deciding
That which has been
Set upon
Way back when
But the mind
Is a fickle thing
Never happy
With just one choice
Maybe some day
I will sleep easy
Knowing that my mind
Has been made up
But tonight
Is not
And will not
Be that night

Unproductive

Unproductive
By: James Dubeau

As I sit here
Drinking a beer
The words do not flow
They do not pour
From these fingers
Upon these keys
Could it be
Due to the noise
Rippling from
The room next to me
Distracting me
From what I seek
Or could it be
Because I am tapped
And no more good
Can come from this mind
For all my ideas
Have found themselves
Upon the page
Leaving me an empty shell
With no more to say
Or could it just be
That it all was just a sham
And that my muse
Has been gunned down
Long ago
And her last
Dieing breath
Was for me to go on
Without her
Even though
I am nothing
Without the guidance
The direction
She provided me
Only time will tell
If things will change
And if it will be
That I may find another
My search will continue
Until the end of time
For a new muse
Must be
Has to be
At the bottom
Of one of these
Bottles

Hammock Built For Two

Hammock Built For Two
By: James Dubeau

Here I sit
Swaying in the wind
In a hammock
Built for two
Leaves rustle
Fall from the sky
As I lay alone
In a hammock
Build for two
The sun hangs high
Casting light in my eyes
My cap pulled low
As I sway about
In a hammock
Built for two
Why don’t you join me
And sing a tune
Of joy and happiness
In a hammock
Build for Two

When I Blink

When I Blink
By: James Dubeau

When I blink
I can see you
Ghostly white streaks
Rising from my computer
Haunting me
Taunting me
As a blank page
Devoid of words
No ink stains
Or pencil smudges
Crafting prose
Oh no
You are here
To tease and jeer
As I struggle
And think
And lose myself
In this block
That is closing in
Suffocating
Killing me slowly
Through lack of sleep
And malnutrition
Only quick wit
And a cold beer
Can fight
Strangling fingers
As my vision glazes over
With portents of death
In a dull
Gray
Vale

Pricetags

Pricetags
By: James Dubeau

Dangling from those toys
Upon high store shelves
Are a much dreaded enemy
Pricetags
Small sticky fingers
Dive through pockets
Tightly clenched fists
Retrieve the plunder
Only to unveil
Lint
Buttons
And a single solitary
Quarter
Not enough for the shiny
Gleaming red and blue plastic
High atop the shelf
Only one respite
From gloom and doom
Is a giant gumball
From the machine
At the front of the store
The only place
Where happiness can be obtained
Without fighting evil
Pricetags

How Can It Be

How Can It Be
By: James Dubeau

How can it be
That I enjoy
This tall dark glass
Filled with foamy goodness
When only a few long years ago
I would have spat it out
If it touched my lips
How can it be
That I drink this drink
In the search of inspiration
Which always seems to leave
When I require it most
How can it be
That my thoughts and dreams
Are not enough fuel
For my stories to be written
And that assistance is needed
For the words to hit the page
How can it be
That is all seems so poor
When I go back to see
What I have done
In days bygone
How can it be

Mechanic Falls

Mechanic Falls
By: James Dubeau

The west was a land
Untamed by man
Until the twin iron trail was laid
Across the plains
Through the mountains
Over the ravines
Finding the way
Bringing man and beast
To the land of
Gold and plenty
Was the iron horse
Upon the trail
Even though it breathed fire
Belching thick black smoke
The beast thirsted for that
Which quenches you and I
On a hot summer day
Cool
Crisp
Clean
Mountain spring water
The men of the Union Pacific
Felt it was wise
To provide a respite
For their iron machine
So a tower was built
And maintained by a man
Who was very serious
About his job
Until one day
When up on the tower
An eagle that dared
Mistook his bald head
For a bit of lunch
He tripped and he slipped
Hitting that shiny bald orb
Upon every rung
Of that forty foot ladder
And that is why
My hometown
Goes by the name
Mechanic Falls

My Eyes Are Closed

My Eyes Are Closed
By: James Dubeau

My eyes are closed
But my brain can’t see
The images playing out
In my mind
All that appears
On the blank screen
Is swirling black
And gray
Not the rolling green hills
Or white picket fence
Or even the little white sheep
Bounding here and there
Over the fence
To escape the world
Of my pre-dream
Fantasy

Blood On The Sand

Blood On The Sand
By: James Dubeau

Harsh footsteps fall
Upon the soft ground
Leaving a lonely trail
Through the desert
Wearily making his way
Away
Away from death
Away from life
Away from it all
Blood on the sand
Pools behind him
Dripping
Oozing
From fallen comrades
Friends in arms
Corpses now
Littered across the valleys
Of the dune sea
Only one remained
To tell the valiant tale
Of those few who stood
Against the many

Mental Vomit

Mental Vomit
By: James Dubeau

My eyes are heavy
With the sleep
That eludes me
For several days now
They burn
With the fire
Of a thousand suns
While they are open
And the fire
Of two thousand
While closed
Only one thing
Can cool the burn
And bring the sleep
Which I desire
If only I could
Open my mind
Letting it all
Vomit upon the page
Any and all
That my heart desires
Love
Hate
And everything in between
In a spurge of creativity
Allowing my brain
Some space to relax
Stretch its legs out
And have a beer
While my body rests
Deep in slumber
That has been due
For quite some time

Huzzah!

Huzzah!
By: James Dubeau

Huzzah!
Behold bewilderment
Methinks naught
Yonder forest
Besmirched daybreak
Jest not
Neither faerie
Nor
Physic conjured
Tranquil caring
Whose motley pardon
Has forthright measure
Where a resolve
Stages
Majestic kindness

Zygotes

Zygotes
By: James Dubeau

Zygotes
Are floating through the air
Killing any and all
In the land
Yes they are and
You are next
Another to fall
Hell is your domain

Explode

Explode
By: James Dubeau

Just poured the last of this
Pot of coffee
Into my cup
Glass
Mug
As my foot taps
And leg shakes
And fingers tremble
And bladder is ready
To explode
But I cannot leave
To relieve myself
Not right now
Not until I’m finished
Writing this work
For today
I must be productive
And there is no one
In this public hive
Which I would trust
To watch
My computer
From would be thieves
Or goblins
Which like to hide
In the corner

Lone Wolf

Lone Wolf
By: James Dubeau

Lone wolf
Stalks alone
Through tree
And bush
Pale moonlight
Filters through
Fallen leaves
Resting upon
Dead soldiers
Who fought
Gallantly losing
Giving all
For those
Who never
Did deserve
The honor
Copper scents
Floating through
Death’s grove
Along with
Dirty musk
From those
Who circle
The grove
Waiting for
And watching
Lone wolf
To make
A mistake
Only one
Is needed
To pounce
Catching unaware
Taking advantage
Of poor
Old wolf
But he
Is strong
And wily
Fighting tooth
And claw
To remain
As always
Lone wolf

Thin Strip Of Sand

Thin Strip Of Sand
By: James Dubeau

Thin strip of sand
Adorned with goodies
From the sea
Crabs
Seashells
Seaweed
And least of all
My footprints
Marching along
The lapping waves
Single file
Footstep
After
Footstep
Clouds float on by
Sunlight filters through
Waves lap upon the shore
Again
And
Again
Each wave reaching
Beyond the last
Rolling through
Yearning to caress
And smother
Thin strands of beach grass
Upon the dune
Overlooking myself
And my empty everything
In the process
Of the sea’s desire
All the goodies
Will disappear
Crabs
Seashells
Seaweed
And easiest of all
My footprints
Would be washed from this
Thin strip of sand
Only proof
That this white sand
Has tickled my sole
Are my two legs
Standing ankle deep
In the mire
Watching it all
Be destroyed
With a smirk
And a grin

Drain

Drain
By: James Dubeau

Why is it
That I am left
Circling this drain
As this sea
Swirls and sways
Taking me with it
Down
To the neither regions
That is the abyss
Where the stank
And mess
And general foulness
That is where
My soul
Resides

Ponders

Ponders
By: James Dubeau & Friend

Ponders
Wanders
On a moonlit night
To sort out my plight
On a midnight flight
For the grass is green
And the night is black
And i'm on my knees with this heart attack
Waiting for the deliverance
That is to come
Running and running against the sun
Shadows grow
Dawn awakens
And i will rise and walk unshaken
Dreaming of a side of bacon
And some crispy golden fries
Drizzled in cheese sauce
Just like mom used to make
All those years ago
....I simply can't believe my eyes!
Light has opened them wide
By the fireside i will bide
Until the truth slips past my lips
Becoming free for all to see

Eggs In The Coffee

Eggs In The Coffee
By: James Dubeau

Eggs in the coffee
Dizzy with a dame
Creating a vigorish
Oh what a shame

Scratch out some berries
On this mill
Flippers must work
Or ink will spill

But a yard is a yard
Which this sucker can’t pay
Hitting on eight
Won’t make the hay

Out on the roof
And pitching woo
Loogan strikes
The alderman through

Pending Storm

Pending Storm
By: James Dubeau

Look at that
Fat old hooker
With the huge knockers
Standing outside
In the cold rain
Waiting
For it all to end
But
Which one of us
Is the one
That truly needs
The end to come
Crashing down
In a hail of
Thunder and lightning
Washing the trash
Down the storm sewer
Leaving the city streets
Cold
Wet
Empty
And
Clean

A Poem

This was a poem written by my good friend Jo tonight. Enjoy.

A Poem
By: Jo

A
Poem

The Sky Is Falling

The Sky Is Falling
By: James Dubeau

The sky is falling
The sky is falling
As I sit here
Playing my fiddle
Letting it all
Be destroyed
Under the boot heel
That is reality
I don’t care
Not any more
There is no reason
For concern
Or even to shed
A single
Tear

I'm Sorry

I’m Sorry
By: James Dubeau

I’m sorry
For taking
So much time
Away
From my writing
Unfortunately
Most of us
Know exactly
How things are
In this day
And age
Work
Can be
All consuming
Beast
That devours
Time
And energy
Now
Take that creature
Double its size
Fore
Double headed
Double job
Work day
Runs
Eight
In the morning
To
Eleven at night
Doing its best
Reducing
The few
Fleeting
Moments
Away from the toil
To be moments
Where relaxation
Is in order
If you add
The need to eat
And the desire
To sleep
Those days
Amount of free time
Is reduced
To
Next to nothing
Looking
At a computer screen
For
A good chunk
Of my work day
Means
The last thing
I want to do
Is stare
At a computer screen
Some more
Even
If it is
For something
Fun
The act of doing
The same repetitive motions
Again
And
Again
And
Again
Is enough
To drive a man
Insane
So
What I’m getting at
Is this
I’m sorry
For not updating
The stories
And
The poems
Which have been
Promised to
You and me
For this
I
Must atone
And resume
Writing
Posting
Even if it means
Nothing
But haikus
Three
Times
A
Week
Hopefully
This shall be
Satisfactory
In moving forward
As for right now
All that I can say
Is
Thank you
And please
Keep reading

There Are Those Days

There Are Those Days
By: James Dubeau

There are those days
Where everything seems
To be going your way
But then
Brick by brick
It all comes tumbling down
Leaving me
Nothing
But
Bruised
And Battered

Thursday

Thursday
By: James Dubeau

Out and about
Margarita in hand
Music thumps
And bumps
As dancers
Jump and
Grind
New friends
Smile and
Laugh
Good times roll
On this
Half price
Thursday

Why Is There Snow

Why Is There Snow
By: James Dubeau

Why is there snow
On my car
This lovely
April morning
Please
Do not tell me
It is because
Wisconsin
Is where I call home
For there really cannot
Be any other reason
Than because
Mother nature
In all her glory
Sought to destroy
Bring me to my knees
With all the pain
And suffering
These frigid temperatures
Bestow upon me

On This Night

On This Night
By: James Dubeau

On this night
Of storms and such
I do want
To write so much
But my eyes
Grow weak and weary
Days been long
With rain and dreary
I must sleep
To gain my strength
Must be done
At any length

As I Lay Here

As I Lay Here
By: James Dubeau

As I lay here
Eyes awake
Thoughts and dreams
My soul does make
Sleep is needed
Which can’t be fake
Or soon the day will come
Where I will break

All Kinds Of Mess

All Kinds Of Mess
By: James Dubeau

Just like a kitten
Clutching the branch
You are just
Hanging in there
But there you are
Sitting tonight
Alone
Drinking your drink
Fine Jameson
With juice
From an apple
Tears streaming down
As those mental daemons
Ravage
Pillage
The soft defenseless
Inner workings
Of your brain
Buck up chum
Keep it steady
An even keel
For there is light
At the far end
Of this tunnel
We call life

Exhausted

Exhausted
By: James Dubeau

I
Am
Exhausted
Mentally exhausted
Physically exhausted
Emotionally exhausted

What is...

What Is…
By: James Dubeau

What is
This life
That I live
What is
This choice
That I made
What is
Happening
All around me
What is
Going on
Around here
What is
The course
To take
What is
Going to be
The outcome
What is
The meaning
Of it all
What is

No Update Today

Due to the death of a friend and overload of work I am unable to post today and my future posts over this next week will be spotty.

Dogfight

Dogfight
By: James Dubeau

Radios crackled to life
Relaying messages
As aircraft
Dove against each other
Machineguns blasting
Filling the air
With gunpowder
And bullets
Men shouted their status
Men shouted attack plans
Men shouted for assistance
Voices were full
Of aggression
Hopelessness
Pain
Voices that were cut off
In mid sentence
Mid word
Mid syllable
Nothing could be done
To save those lost
Those heroic men
Who gave their soul
For God
And country
Nothing
But listen
And remember

Night With Friends

Night With Friends
By: James Dubeau

Jack by the door
Jameson needing more
White sand washes
Across the floor
There are no fears
As the cheers
Ring across
Flowing beers
Tunes wave through
Cats meow and mew
All enjoy
A nice tasty brew
The night shall be good
Alls right in the hood
We will enjoy ourselves
As you would

The End

The End
By: James Dubeau

Heavy weight
In my hand
Cold steel
Against my flesh
My finger traces
Protruding metal
Feeling the curves
The grace
Few last wisps
Curl round my head
Putting a haze
On dim light
Filtering through
Closed blinds
Empty bottle
Stands alone
Upon my desk
The last man standing
In a long line of
Dedicated
Loyal
Soldiers
Cool metal
Presses against
My temple
In a flash
All is
Dark

The Candle Burns

The Candle Burns
By: James Dubeau

Days grow longer
Nights grow shorter
The candle burns
On both ends
Soon the wax
Will burn away
Leaving
Only darkness

What Can Be Said

What Can Be Said
By: James Dubeau

What can be said
That hasn’t already been said
What can be written
That hasn’t already been written
What can be done
That hasn’t already been done
How can anything
Be original
Unique
Distinctive
When I’m just not feeling it
Tonight
The challenge is beyond me

Driving Twice

Driving Twice
By: James Dubeau

Driving twice
The limit of speed
Through icy corners
And neighborhood streets
No cop will stop me
No cop will see me
For all cops will be
At the fire
Behind me
Watching the smoke curl
Over the streets
Onto the overpass
Blocking everything off
Watching the destruction
All is clear
In every direction
Only black ice
Snow banks
Other drives
And
Possibly
Whiskey
Stand between me
And getting home

Flashback

Flashback
By: James Dubeau

Head tilted back
Neck exposed
I choke
And cough
I can feel
The cool knife
Against my
Hot flesh
Once again
Slicing
Tearing
Cutting
Exposing
My trachea
My esophagus
My veins
My soul

Alamo

Alamo
By: James Dubeau

189 men once stood
Villagers
Farmers
Bankers
Store keepers
Soldiers
189 men once stood
Together
As one
To defend
Land
Homes
Families
Lives
189 men once stood
Against
The odds
Bombardment
Gunfire
Knives
Swords
Thousands
189 men once stood
Where my feet stand
In this very spot
With mud covered boots
Sweat soaked brows
189 men once stood
189 men once fought
189 men once died
For freedom

Rolling Thunder

Rolling Thunder
By: James Dubeau

Rolling thunder
Through the valley
Awakens
Slumbering beasts
Scattering them
In all directions
Wary
Of the destruction
That is to follow

Is This Possible

Is This Possible
By: James Dubeau

Is this possible
Can this be
Will it come to pass
Or will it all
Like all before
Tumble and fall
Only time will tell
What will come to pass
And what will
Only come to failure

Blocked

Blocked
By: James Dubeau

Fuck
Why can’t I think
Fuck
Why can’t I write
Fuck
Why don’t the words form
Fuck
Why doesn’t the ink flow
Fuck
Why don’t the keys type
Fuck
Why doesn’t the page fill
Fuck
Why don’t my characters move
Fuck
Why don’t they talk
Fuck
Why don’t they live
Fuck
Why can’t I write
Fuck

Is This What Love Is

Is This What Love Is
By: James Dubeau

Is this what love is
When your heart
Soars out
But it cannot
Put it’s arms around
Those that you’re with
As they dance
And writhe
And drink
Hands can only go so far
Mind only allows so much
Like
Love
Hate
Jealously
All bounce around
As music floods
Bass beats
Bumping
Grinding
Hugging
Kissing
But none can be had
None can be felt
None can be held
I am alone

What Is This Life

What Is This Life
By: James Dubeau

What is this life
That we are given
Only to have it
Taken away
In a blink
Of the eye
Fuck this world
And all these things
What made this
Such a shitty place
It is all just a lie
That we take for granted
A life
That we live
The only good thing
That I have to say
In this shitty world
Is that I get
One last chance
To say
Good bye

Peacekeeper?

Peacekeeper?
By: James Dubeau

Do you really
Bring peace
When every move
Only instills fear
Why should you
Be considered a good guy
When all you do
Is strong arm those
Who do not obey
If anything
You deserve to be
Knocked down a peg
Or three
For all the injustices
That have been caused
By you
And those like you

A Moment To Vent

A Moment To Vent
By: James Dubeau

Fucking people need to go
They need to sod off and die
There is no need to shoot my car
Breaking the driver side window
Just because you are bored
Should not be a reason to egg my car
Nor because your drunk ass
Doesn’t know how to drive
Or pay attention to the road
Give you an excuse
To rear end my car
Smashing the bumper to bits
Why does the general public
Only agree on one thing
Which is that I cannot
Have nice things
My car must be battered
Beaten
Shot
And disgraced
Until the semblance of a nice thing
Has gone away
But I give a fair warning
To the general public out there
Hell will be paid
If anyone is ever caught
Fucking with my car

In My Pockets

In My Pockets
By: James Dubeau

Faux leather money clip
Wrinkled dollar bill attached
Credit card
Debit card
Drink card
Business card
VIP card
Employee card
Ice cream card
Drivers License
And old lotto ticket
All stuffed inside
Crumpled memo book
With pages torn out
Remaining pages are covered
In black chicken scratches
Mental notes
Half hearted poetry
Story outlines
Black pen
Red pen
Mechanical pencil
With a busted off clip
Work schedule folded in half
And in half again
Silver box knife
Has yet to slice the pocket
Some day soon it shall happen
Work truck key
On a fob
Personal car key
On another
Dangling with
House key
Work key
Deadbolt key
Office key
Safe key
Gas key
Nineteen-ninety-six
Shiny copper penny
Tube of Chap Stick
For these snowy days
And a cellular phone
Cracked
Scratched
Dented
And
Dinged

There Is

There Is
By James Dubeau

There is something more
Something more awaits me
Awaits me from beyond
From beyond the horizon
The horizon concealed secrets
Concealed secrets cannot be grasped
Cannot be grasped in my hands
In my hands there is nothing
There is nothing to fill my soul
To fill my soul would be necessary
Would be necessary to succeed
To succeed there is

Tired

Tired
By: James Dubeau

Tired in the morning
Tired at night
Tired at the mid day meal
Tired all the time
Tired when the alarm rings
Tired when snooze hits
Tired as I crawl out of bed
Tired driving to work
Tired as fingers grace the keys
Tired as the mouse slides about
Tired on the drive home
Tired while watching TV
Tired while writing lines
Tired while revising
Tired when going to bed
Tired
Tired
Tired
Why can’t I sleep