Sunday, July 14, 2019



Everything beautiful about you
Has been cut to the ground
The lines of the years now on your face
You feel like you are just one small disgrace
In a great big universe of order and shadow
But I see something
I see where everyone thought you were dead
Yet you are alive
You are branching out again
You are alive
You are wondrous

You are resilient

Thursday, June 27, 2019

Anniversary Haiku

Anniversary Haiku

Marry me again, Love
Everything you touch, beauty
Our Love forevermore

Broke the rules again
Eight instead of seven there
Freedom is magic

Marry me again, Love
All you touch turns to beauty
Our love forevermore

A true haiku

kdc, 6/26/19

Tuesday, June 18, 2019



Ah, for so long I have tried to be the poet extraordinaire
But, alas, my books just sit on the shelf
Not going anywhere

I made all sorts of excuses
It’s the modern day
No one reads poetry anymore
There has to be a video
There has to be a meme
Vacillating from one to another extreme
I have finally realized

I’ve tried too hard to be someone I’m not

Do that for too long and your soul will rot
To the point where even you notice the smell
The stench, the pain, there is no gain,
The wrench
That finally breaks the bolts from the tightening
Then comes that feeling that is all too frightening

The feeling of panicked disarray

The feeling of floating in outer space
Knowing you’re a million light years from anywhere
And nowhere is where you’ll always be

Sure that floating feeling is free
But freedom without any boundary is nothing less
Than death by lonely wandering
And that death is very, very slow

How do I get past this vaudeville show?
I do not know, I do not know
This seems to be my favorite answer
More and more popular it becomes by the day
I’m told to read, I’m told to pray
Yet silence has forever greeted me

I wish I could be more upbeat
Instead of this deadpan sullen
Yet there are days where these perceptions must come forth
There are nights where the soul is broken

There are lives in which living is not seen

I think it’s time to find the green
The life that comes from seeking light

But I’ve said that all before
It’s almost become a daily chore
Not the majesty and the mystery that it should
I sit and stare at a piece of wood
Waiting for it to save me

Can I find true life within a tree
Is it living
Or is it dead?

These voices go on and on inside my head
I could probably go on like this forever
So before I drone on into a cumbersome blather
I am simply going to stop

To say

Thank you for this day

kdc, 6/8/19

Sunday, June 2, 2019

Dead Amongst the Living

Dead Amongst the Living

I’m no longer writing poetry
I’m not sure why
I sit here on the front porch
Looking at the sky
And that is all I do
These thoughts are many
These thoughts are few
I just don’t know who I am anymore
Stillness can be heaven
Stillness can be hell
And often I cannot
Will not
Tell the difference
These dichotomies have created judgment in me
I don’t want that anymore
But this place where I sit amongst a sandy shore
Feels very unsettling to me
All I wanted was to be free
And all I got was imprisoned
The train blows shrill across the chasm
It’s a warning instead of an announcement
But he seems to be having fun letting it loose
Over and over and over
I look down at the struggling clover
That is surviving this summer heat
Nothing else here questions its existence
So why do I?
Why do I sit and stare at sky

And wonder why it is I’m here?
To sing a song, to drink a beer
To play a game, to work a day
To walk on and on in this merry way
That leads to both great joy and brutal heartache
I hope that those that attend my wake
Will be there to have fun when they greet me

kdc, 6/2/19

Saturday, May 18, 2019

Rain in May

Rain in May

The biggest lesson of today
A day of rain and cold and quiet
Is to enjoy
Yes it’s the midst of May
The time of sun and warmth and flowers and green
Those things aberrant are often the very things we need
To see our lives in a whole new way

I take my last drink of my peppermint hot chocolate
Thankful for its warmth
This cold sits foreign against my skin
Yet I do not ask just why or when
Things will go back to the way I’ve known them

That way may never be known again

This rain is a good friend


Sunday, May 5, 2019

The Center

The Center 

The Center is clear
Everything that radiates from it
Blurs and blurs
No color is lost
Still the center is clear
And all that align with it
Even the peripheral
Even the immature
Even the things never noticed
They are clear when they rest at the center
So it is with you and me.
This is the best of trees

Sunday, April 7, 2019

Musings on Sunday (Unfinished)

Musings on Sunday (Unfinished)

We often feel we must have something to say
We must have this profound wisdom
This answer
And we must have it now
Give it now
Know it now

Yet we really live in the midst of a vast universe
Never experienced
Still we think we know it all

We know nothing
Nothing at all

Our knowledge and our opinions are infinite
Yet they are a microscopic drop
An atom
A proton
A quark
In the midst of millions of galaxies

So who am I to judge my brother
Who am I to tell my sister she is wrong
Who are they to tell me who I am
Who I am not
None of us have the right to judge another
None of us hardly know ourselves
Much less what drives the heart beats of all the others

See, I live in the midst of great distractions
I can’t join one thought to another
Without an interruption in the mix
It’s a miracle these sentences come forth
These thoughts born right in the middle of chaos
Might simply be a picture of how life really is

I try to shut down the noise
But the noise is just too voluminous for me
Waves come crashing in from everywhere
Now my thoughts are lost in a sandy mix of dark frustration
Grating against my soul

Creating thousands of pearls

I put on the piano music
Listened through the earphones
So that I don’t pay back evil for evil
I consider the others
Even though there is no consideration for me
It’s the way I’ve always been
It’s the way I’ll always be

So here we are
Alone in the world again
I know life is meant to be lived with others
It’s not to be lived alone
But I can’t take all the delusions
I simply want to live in my home
Being what I am supposed to be

Where was I before all of this droning
Who was I before all the stoning
My broken bones and bruises might be healed
The memories still reside
I think I must make the journey inside
To see the one who walks the earth
The one who sees the heavens
The one who lives in the both and the and
The one who sees the purpose in the sand
The one who sees the emptiness of the time
And all its fullness thereof

I don’t think this will ever be finished