I

heard

.

t

h

e

.

words

.

about

.

t

h

e

.

turn,

.

.

e

c

h

o

.

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

universe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

the

.

n

e

w

.

earth

.

n

o

w

.

looks

like

.

t

h

e

.

old,

.

.

a

s

.

.

better

.

f

a

l

l

s

.

to 

worse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ as

better

.

f

a

l

l

s

.

to 

worse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

marching

forward . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

marching

forward . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ marching

forward . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

– 

reverse.

Reflection: This was a forgotten reflection-themed poem that I wrote back in January of 2018. It was primarily inspired by U2’s Bono Rolling Stone interview (January 11-25, 2018 issue of Rolling Stone) where Bono said “the new normal is the old normal” (in terms of the world moving backwards to protectionism, and no longer advancing: Trump, Brexit, the rise of protectionist contenders, political agendas, and such). After reflecting on this interview, I then wrote: “the new world looks like the old world” and this simple poem wrote itself from that.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time,

–

–

when

.

I

.

thought

.

y

o

u

.

might

.

b

e

.

the

one

.

i

n

.

my

life . . .
–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

later

.

I

.

came

.

t

o

.

realize,

.

.

y

o

u

.

.

were

.

n

o

t

.

the

one . . .
–
–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

–

–

not

.

t

h

e

.

one,

–

–

alright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

the

one

.

w

h

o

.

got

away.

Reflection: This was a fun but simple romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in January of 2018 where the contemplator looks back on a past romance which probably could have turned out to be the best relationship he or she has ever had.

Cryptocurrency . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Cryptocurrency . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Building

easy

–

–

money

schemes,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

sweet,

–

–

money

dreams

.

.

t

o

.

.

that,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

every . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ well,

.

i

t

.

seems

.

l

i

k

e

.

a

bubble

.

t

o

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

seems

.

l

i

k

e

.

a

bubble . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

if

.

i

t

.

comes

crashing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

if

.

i

t

.

comes

thrashing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

h

o

w

–

–

–

many

.

w

i

l

l

.

still

.

b

e

.

singing

.

a

n

d

.

dancing

.

i

n

.

the

streets ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ singing

.

a

n

d

.

dancing

.

i

n

.

the

streets . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

e

n

–

–

–

living

a

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

eating

crypto

currency

feed,

–

–

beneath

crypto

currency

bedsheets.

Reflection: This was a fun, but simple reflective-themed poem I wrote in December 2017 during the earlier days of the cryptocurrency craze – crypto crashed shortly after I wrote this but recovered almost three years later. Perhaps I should have modified this poem during the meme stock phase and published it then as well. The rhythm of this poem was inspired by John Lennon’s rhythmic verse in “I am the Walrus.” It started out as: “Cryptocurrency, easy money schemes, well it seems like a bubble to me.”

I actually started buying into cryptocurrency once the recovery began via Coinbase (COIN) – because that was the first time I started having some confidence in the fundamental value of a cryptocurrency-oriented company. It’s actually done very well since then.

I

danced

.

u

p

o

n

.

a

smile

.

o

f

.

wine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

desire

.

spied

upon

.

m

y

.

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

danced

.

a

.

lie . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

danced

.

a

l

l

.

night . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

.

w

a

s

.

hard

.

t

o

.

know . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

wild

.

a

n

d

.

winding,

–

–

whirling

ride,

–

–

just

where

.

t

h

e

.

night

.

m

i

g

h

t

.

arrive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

danced

.

u

p

o

n

.

a

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

danced

.

u

p

o

n

.

a

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

danced

.

u

p

o

n

.

a

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

wine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

i

n

–

–

–

those

precious,

–

–

priceless

moments

.

i

n

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

I

.

dreamed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

designed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

danced

.

a

.

lie . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.
 ~ when

I

.

dreamed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

designed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

danced

.

a

.

lie . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

thinking

–

–

somewhere,

–

–

someday,

–

–

somehow,

.

.

o

r

.

.

sometime,
.

.

I

.

.

might

.

f

i

n

d

.

a

way

.

t

o

.

make

.

y

o

u

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

might

.

f

i

n

d

.

a

way

.

t

o

.

make

.

y

o

u

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

longer

than . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ for
longer,

.

.

s

o

.

.

much

longer

.

t

h

a

n

.

those

twenty-nine

.

maddening

moments

.

i

n

.

time.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in December of 2017 where the romancer looks back on a brief romantic encounter, and wonders what more could have been said or done to create a more lasting romance.

Here

comes

again

.

t

h

a

t

.

mad

martini

moon,
.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all

.

o

f

.

those

sappy,

–

–

drunken

“I love you-s . . .”

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ those

sappy,

–

–

drunken

“I love you-s” . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

which

.

a

r

e

.

nothing

more . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ nothing

.

m

o

r

e

.

than

.

t

h

e

.

old

.

h

i

t

.

tune,

.

.

still

trying

.

t

o

.

sound

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

still

trying

.

t

o

.

relive

.

t

h

e

.

dance

.

o

f

.

its

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ nothing

.

m

o

r

e

.

than

.

t

h

e

.

stale

–

–

scent

.

o

f

.

booze

–

–

after

.

a

.

confused,

–

–

alcoholic

afternoon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ nothing

.

m

o

r

e

.

than

.

t

h

e

.

boring,

–

–

cyclical,

–

–

patterned

story:

–

–

–

.

.

.

morning,

–

–

before

noon,

–

–

before

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

moon,

–

–

before

morning,

–

–

before

noon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

know,

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

those

sappy,

–

–

drunken

“I love you-s . . .”

–

–

–

.

.

.

could

.

n

o

t

.

move

.

t

h

e

.

most

desperate

.

o

f

.

fools . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

there

.

a

r

e

.

times

–

–

when

.

t

h

e

y

.

do . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

a

r

e

.

times

–

–

when

.

t

h

e

y

.

still

do.

Reflection: This was a fun romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in December of 2017 where the romancer looks back on a brief romantic encounter, and wonders what more could have been said or done to create a more lasting romance.

Youth,

–

–

engages

youth,

.

.

s

o

.

.

many

.

f

r

o

m

.

which

.

t

o

.

choose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Youth,

–

–

engages

youth,

.

.

s

o

.

.

consumed

.

b

y

.

the

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

with

pursuit,

–

–

pursuing

pursuit,

–

–

pursuing

pursuit . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

.

s

o

.

many

–

–

become

.

s

o

.

few . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

s

o

.

many

–

–

become

.

s

o

.

few . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

not

.

s

o

.

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

now

there

.

i

s

.

nothing

left

.

t

o

.

do,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

seek

.

t

h

e

.

sweet

.

o

f

.

something

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

seek

a

move

.

t

o

.

another

moon,

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ seek

a

move

.

t

o

.

another

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

a

blooming

shade

.

o

f

.

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

youth,

–

–

engages

youth,

–

–

engages

youth,

–

–

engages

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

although

.

I

.

believe

.

I

.

should

leave

.

h

e

r

e

.

soon,

.

.

I

.

do

.

n

o

t

.

mind

.

t

h

e

.

brew.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in December of 2017 where the affected party is in a constant state of pursuit, and is continually disappointed by the results – leading to a continual, negative cycle of pursuit. This poem was inspired by lines that appeared on the screen of the silent movie “Intolerance.” The woman saw her aging reflection in a mirror and the following lines appeared: “Seeing youth drawn to youth, Miss Jenkins realizes the bitter fact that she is no longer a part of the younger world.” I thought that was a great line which warranted the writing of a poem based on that.

There

is

.
s

o

.

much

more

.

I

.

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

been . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ so

many

.

m

o

r

e

.

dreams

.

I

.

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

seen . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

way

.

b

a

c

k

.

then,

.

.

I

.

w

a

s

.

racing

around . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ racing

around

.

i

n

.

candy

apple

.

r

e

d

.

instead . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

felt

.

s

o

.

wild

.

a

n

d

.

free,

–

–

moving

.

a

t

.

such

speed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

tomorrow

arrived

today,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

THEN

next

week

–

–

arrived

today,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

THEN

next

month,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

THEN

next

year

–

–

arrived

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

!MORE SPEED!

tires

screeching . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

!!MORE SPEED!!

engine

screaming . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

!!!MORE SPEED!!!

freeways

streaming . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

!!!!MORE SPEED!!!!

!!!!!MORE SPEED!!!!!

!!!!!!MORE SPEED!!!!!!

!!!!!!!MORE SPEED!!!!!!!

.

.

.

.

.

.

==>>>Here

!TOMORROW!

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

there ==>>>

!TODAY!

–

–

–

.

.

.

==>>>Here

!TOMORROW!

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

spinning,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

spinning,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

spinning,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

spinning

.

i

n

.

!YESTERDAY!

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

arrived

==>>>here

.

i

n

.

a

SCREAMING

BLURRR,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

knew

.

n

o

t

.

who

.

o

r

.

where

.

I

.

was . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

arrived

==>>>here

.

w

i

t

h

.

little

fuel

.

t

o

.

burn,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

so

.

m

u

c

h

.

more

.

t

o

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

arrived

.

w

i

t

h

.

little

fuel

.

t

o

.

burn,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

so

.

m

u

c

h

.

more

.

t

o

.

learn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

!OH!

.

.

.

.

.

.

all

.

o

f

.

those

!THRILLING!

–

–

!!EXHILARATING!!

–

–

!!!TWISTING!!!

–

–

!!!!TURNS!!!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

INSIDE

OUT

.

a

n

d

.

OUTSIDE

!IN!

–

–

–

.

.

.

UPSIDE

DOWN

.

a

n

d

.

UP

!AGAIN!

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

all

.

t

h

a

t

.

time,

.

.

w

i

t

h

.

.

the

twilights

–

–

dimming . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

a

t

.

time,

.

.

w

a

s

.

.

I

.

o

n

l

y

.

dreaming ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

the

days

.

o

f

.

before

.

a

r

e

.

filled

.

w

i

t

h

.

nothing

more . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ nothing

more

.

t

h

a

n

.

echoes

.

a

n

d

.
blurs . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

echoes

.

a

n

d

.

blurs . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

echoes
.

a

n

d

.

blurs . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

each,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

every,

.

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

.

could

not

.

b

e

.

sure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Candy

apple

.

r

e

d

.

is

taunting

.

m

e

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Candy

apple

.

r

e

d

.

is

teasing

.

m

e

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Candy

apple

.

r

e

d

.

is

haunting

.

m

e

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

.

w

i

t

h

.

all

.

o

f

.

those

WASTED

years,

.

.

o

f

.

.

WILD,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

RECKLESS,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

SENSELESS

SPINNING . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

would

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

sometimes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

would

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

sometimes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

would

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

sometimes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

love

.

t

o

.

go

reeling,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

freewheeling,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

gear

shifting

–

–

behind

.

t

h

a

t

.

revving,

–

–

racing,

–

–

windshield

again.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2017 where the affected party is addicted to the thrills of exhilarating pursuit – not realizing the speed that life can pass, and how little value, connection, or satisfaction is gained as the memories blur.

It

may

.

a

t

.

times

–

–

seem

.

s

o

.

bare,

.

.

i

n

.

.

places

where

–

–

tomorrowlands

reign,

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

rejoice

–

–

instead

.

o

f

.

despair,

–

–

should

.

y

o

u

.

find

little

–

–

inspiration

there . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

you

might
.

h

a

v

e

.

grown

.

t

o

.

the

point,

.

.

w

h

e

r

e

.

.

the

heroes

.

o

f

.

your

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

 ~ where

the

heroes

.

o

f

.

your

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

h

a

v

e

–

–

–

since

become

you.

Reflection: This was an inspirational/hope-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2017 in reflection of the later years of life when heroes seem much harder to find – and came to realize personal growth is probably a key contributor to why this happens.

Do

.

y

o

u

.

remember

when . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

what

didn’t

happen

.

.

did,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

what

did

happen

.

.

didn’t . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ what

did

happen

.

.

didn’t,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

what

didn’t

happen

.

.

did . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Do

.

y

o

u

.

remember

when . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Do

.

y

o

u

.

remember

when . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

would

love

.

t

o

.

live

those

–

–

days
again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

would

love

.

t

o

.

live

those

–

–

days

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

back

when

.

t

h

a

t

.

which

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

been

sure,

–

–

would

merge

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ back

when

–

–

sudden

tides

–

–

would

toss,

.

a

n

d

.

tumble,

.

a

n

d

.

turn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

storm

waters

surge,

–

–

where

wanted

words . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ where

wanted

words . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

e

r

e

–

–

–

pictured

.

a

s

.

whispered

.

o

r

.

heard.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2017 where the romancer looks back fondly on romantic adventures of the past.

For

all

.

o

f

.

those

–

–

“!Look at me-s!”

–

–

–

.

.

.

screaming

.

i

n

.

flickering

yellows

.

a

n

d

.

greens . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

well,

.

.

t

h

e

.

.

louder

.

t

h

e

y

.

scream . . .
–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

more

.

t

h

e

y

.

stream

.

t

h

e

i

r

.

flash

.

a

n

d

.

tease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

.

m

o

r

e

.

distant

.

t

h

e

y

.

become

.

f

o

r

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

bring

.

m

e

.

shy

subtlety

.

a

n

d

.

sweet

humility,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

watch

.

t

h

e

.

stirring

seas

.

o

f

.

restless

want,

–

–

storm

.

a

n

d

.

stammer,

.

.

a

n

d
.

.

stammer

.

a

n

d

.

storm . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

endlessly,

–

–

relentlessly,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

effortlessly

deep.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in October of 2017 reflecting some of my personal romantic experiences and observations.