Half Awake Poems

Stop, Look, and Listen

Scars are a too late warning.
They do say, Look!
Don't ever try that again!
But still can’t make us listen.

Jehoshaphat!

Fat Jack! Where are you at?
I talk to the dead, it seems.
It’s funny, how they never talk back,
yet insist on appearing in dreams.

Disillusion and No Distractions

The same old thoughts.
Haven't had a new one in years.
Still, you know, it's a kind of comfort,
a welcome dryness behind the ears.