Ink in the Blood Posts

Monotony

movies

are a brief

escape

especially

the great ones

i can remember …

back in the day

taking college courses

in Vegas

and working

at Blockbuster Video

(before writing at the Mirage)

and how people

would make a bee-line

straight for the New Releases

you could feel the excitement

in the air

and hear the sound

of plastic movie covers

scraping against the shelves

as the first-come-first-serve

would quickly grab up the movie cases

behind the covers

and only then

would they relax

with the gold secured in hand

back then

they didn’t mind much

waiting in line …

this was their happy place

the beep beep of cases being scanned

and put in plastic bags

and told when they were due back

like a library book

and how this was the highlight

of so many lives

from so many different walks of life

and so many different ages

everybody knows

the power of great movies

what they can do

how they can lift you

away

from your worries

and make you forget

where you are

that’s movie magic at its very best

the storyline is the start

the way it’s delivered by the actors

the way it’s envisioned by the director

the way it’s cut with the score … music can say it all

a movie is an emotional ride

that people round the world

are willing to take

as evident

in the current

constant streaming

of movies worldwide

giving theatres

“a real run for the money”

nowadays a movie has to be

TITANIC

to make it worth it

to go and stand in a long line

to secure a ticket

in order to board

the ride

but if it’s great

really great

then it’s worth it

‘cause great movies

stay with ‘ya

long after

the credits roll

away …

TL

Angels

i go

there

trying

to find

you

…

some

part

of you

…

i roll

down

every

aisle

turn

every

corner

…

i know

you’re

not

there

but

i feel

your

spirit

down

every

row

…

so

i go

there

from time

to time

looking

for

you

there

…

but today

i didn’t go

inside

…

i didn’t

get outta

the car

i just sat

there

in the lot

for a while

and then

i left

…

TL

Lost

unto

the ocean

silver tears

turn time

to grain

and then

the rain

drips down

and disappears

the waves roll out

and roll back in

the grief too deep

to reach

TL

Windswept

ahhhhhhhh

the idea

of love

that Empire State

feeling

what a body

will do

fer it

love can

drive you mad

like the Mad

Hatter

in Wonderland

like Jack in Titanic

like Francesca

in Bridges

like Love Actually

like Mieke and Brandt

in The Exception

like Frank Farmer and Rachel Marron

in The Bodyguard

like Whitney Houston

like Cher

like Queen Bey

like Elizabeth Taylor

like Taylor Swift

like Britney Spears

“Baby One More Time”

like Pamela Anderson

like Maria Shriver

like Tina Turner

like Shania

like Mariah

like Molly and Frank

in Falling in Love

in Karen and Denys

in Out of Africa

like Father Ralph and Meggie

in The Thornbirds

like Edmond Dantes

in The Count of Monte Cristo

like Andy Dufresne

in Shawshank Redemption

like Michael

in The Reader

like Connie & Paul

in Unfaithful

like David and Diana

in Indecent Proposal

like Shelby in Steel Magnolias

like Noah & Allie

in The Notebook

like Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth

in Pride & Prejudice

like Frances

in Under the Tuscan Sun

like Somewhere in Time

like Past Lives

like Romeo & Juliet

like Pip in Great Expectations

like Arthur & Morgan

in The Road to Avalon

like Angela Nikolau

at the tippity top

of New York City

with the wind in her hair

and the sun

at her back

blinded by bling

willing to fall

fer it

…

fer dat

free-fall-feeling

of

l

o

v

e

TL

Reality

7 years

i cheered

for football

and basketball

was co-captain

junior year

and captain

senior year

but they never

once

saw me cheer

in 7 years

i had to beg

for a ride

to the games

from neighbors

and others

and catch a ride

back

dreading

what was waiting

…

behind the door

TL

Damage Done

the constant

crack of cans

opening

each one

thrown out

the back door

a collection

to crush

on a concrete floor

empty cases

of silver bullets

and then it begins

…

in the glassy eye

slurred speech

wobbled walk

spitting on the floor

spewing vile and hate

evil raging on a red face

things escalate

the feeling of doom descends …

everywhere

monsters are made

at the bottom of beer

cans

and hard liquor

bottles

alcoholics have no

recollection

of the destruction

but the child

in the corner

cannot forget

no matter how hard

they try

they cannot

forget

TL

Walking Away …

growing up

i took a lot

of walks

especially

in the flame

of summer

it was a way

to think

my own thoughts

and let go

of the breath

i’d been holding

as if i were under

water

walking was different

than running

i loved running

‘cause it felt like flying

but sometimes

i didn’t have it in me

to run

walking didn’t require

much

i could drag my feet

along

if it was too tough

to lift ‘em

off the ground

i’d take off walking

to each dead-end

sign

and turn back around

yearning for the quiet

of trees

there was no screaming

or constant cussing

no slamming doors

or flying objects

no broken glass

or violent fists

no silent tears

streaming down

the mirror

or seeping into the pillow

there was a stillness

in the grass

the wing of a bird

brushed against the sky

a pasture of horses

across the street

that knew me

knew somehow i needed ‘em

they’d stand out there

withstanding the worst

of weather

i’d watch ‘em

out the school bus

window

bracing for impact

whenever i took a walk

my walking always

led to them

and whenever they’d see me

coming down the road

they’d stop

whatever they were doing

and move toward me

in a graceful gait

they’d let me pet ‘em

on the head

and feed ‘em apples

they belonged to the people

who lived in the big ‘ole house

in the middle of a lot of land

edged by miles

of wooden fence

i would makeup stories

in my head

‘bout the folks who lived there

and they were always …

happy

i was a daydreamer

my whole life

no matter where i was

or what i was doing

alone or in public

i was daydreaming

it was a way

to cope with chaos

like all those walks

i took

down that long stretch of dirt

from one dead-end sign

to the other

and back around

to the pasture

where the unicorns

were waiting

for me

TL

Too Late for Tears

t

h

e

y

who go

unnoticed

unchecked

unhappy

behind

small smiles

they live their little lives

in an imaginary

world

created in the cracks

in the eruption

… the interruption

of childhood

p l a y

they never had

a chance

born into

traumatic

circumstance

too young

to get in a car

and drive away

too scared

to speak up

and say

too conditioned

to accept

the way it is

children don’t get

a chance to choose

how they are

raised

some get lucky

and make it

out …

but some

never get to leave

the black box

….

laid to rest

in a meadow

down

that knows no

walls

no doors

no locks

the wind blows

through

and through

TL

Avalon

snow in the sea

it glistens

like the rain

through the trees

a breath of frost

on the ground

high on the hill

the bells are ringing

an eternal spring

TL

Golden Boy

he felt

the earth

beneath his feet

along the rugged

trail of trees

each step

drawing him closer

and closer

to the center of his soul

as he climbs higher

and higher

to the summit

of a sunset

he is not alone

an Eagle flies overhead

beckoning him further

along

whenever he grows weary

he stops

and rests on a rock

a butterfly lands on his hand

resting, too

he can hear the chorus of birds

chirp

the squirrels scraping

against the bark

he listens to the quiet

of deer walking

sees the sunlight

dance with the wind

he makes his way to the river

and bends down

his cup runneth over

he watches diamonds

wink on water

the whisper of wildflowers

on the bank

a yellow leaf drops down

and floats on by …

he watches it

‘til it disappears

from sight

he feels free

happy within

he continues on

his path

he needs no map

at the crossroads

a little boy

looks back

stops and waves

before he takes off

flying

TL

Baloo Birthday

how is

the weather

there

it’s raining

here

the ground is

saturated

with a week of rain

since the sun

moved to Texas

on the second

in its 20^th year

we have to light candles

round here

to mimic the ray

a lamp over a plant

to keep it green

the rain to keep it

real

no rain … no roses

right

only in the silence

do you hear

sight and sound

the senses most profound

or is it feeling

encircled

and held

like a ring

eternal …

that you wear

within

no matter

where or when or why or what

or who

the ring is true … true love

is you

my beautiful baby

Baloo

TL

The Giving Tree

“once

there was

a tree …

and she loved

a little boy

and every day

the boy

would come

and he would

gather her leaves

and make them

into crowns

and play king

of the forest

he would climb

up her trunk

and swing

from her branches

and eat

her apples

and they would

play

hide-and-go-seek

and when

he was tired

he would sleep

in her shade

and the boy

loved the tree …

very much

and the tree

was happy

but time went by

and the boy

grew older

and the tree

was often alone …

… then one day

the boy came

to the tree

and the tree said,

‘come, boy,

come and climb

up my trunk

and swing

from my branches

and eat apples

and play in my shade

and be happy’

‘I am too big

to climb and play,’

said the boy,

‘I want to buy things

and have fun

I want some

money

can you give me

some money’

‘I’m sorry,’

said the tree,

‘but I have no

money

I have only

leaves and apples,

take my apples, boy,

and sell them

in the city

then you will have

money

and you will be

happy’

and so

the boy climbed

up the tree

and gathered her apples

and carried them

away

and the tree was

happy

but the boy stayed

away

for a long time …

and the tree was

sad

and then one

day

the boy came

back

and the tree shook

with joy

and she said,

‘come, boy,

climb up my trunk

and swing

from my branches

and be happy’

‘I am too busy

to climb trees,’

said the boy,

‘I want a house

to keep me warm,’

he said,

‘I want a wife

and I want children,

and so I need

a house

can you give me

a house?’

‘I have no house,’

said the tree,

‘the forest

is my house,

but you can cut

off my branches

and build

a house

then you will be

happy’

and so

the boy cut

off her branches

and carried them

away

to build his

house

and the tree was

happy

but the boy stayed

away

for a long time

and when

he came back

the tree was

so happy

she could

hardly speak

‘come, boy,’

she whispered,

‘come and play’

‘I am too old

and sad

to play,’

said the boy,

‘I want a boat

that will take me

far away

from here

can you give me

a boat’

‘cut down my trunk

and make a boat,’

said the tree,

‘then you can

sail away …

and be

happy’

and so

the boy cut down

her trunk

and made a boat

and sailed

away

and the tree was

happy

… but not really

and after a long

time

the boy came

back again

‘I am sorry, boy,’

said the tree,

‘but I have nothing

left

to give you –

my apples are

gone’

‘my teeth are too weak

for apples,’ said the boy

‘my branches

are gone,’ said the tree –

‘you cannot swing

on them’

‘I am too old

to swing on branches,’

said the boy

‘my trunk

is gone,’

said the tree,

‘you cannot climb –’

‘I am too tired

to climb,’

said the boy

‘I am sorry,’

sighed the tree,

‘I wish

that I could give you

something …

but I have nothing

left

I am just

an old stump

I am sorry …’

‘I don’t need

very much now,’

said the boy,

‘just a quiet place

to sit and rest

I am very

tired’

‘well,’

said the tree,

straightening herself up

as much as she could,

‘well, an old stump

is good

for sitting and resting

come, boy, sit down …

sit down and rest’

and the boy

did …

and the tree was …

happy”

By Poet Shel Silverstein

Adapt

with

the windows

down

rolled past

houses

and glimpsed

light pink

roses

climbing

a chain-link

fence

and somehow

they reached me

through the metal

without words

like a bird

in the rain

TL

IF

“if you can

keep your head

when all about you

are losing theirs

and blaming it

on you

if you can

trust yourself

when all men doubt you

but make allowance

for their doubting, too

if you can

wait

and not be tired

by waiting

or being lied about

don’t deal in lies

or being hated

don’t give way to hating

and yet

don’t look too good

nor talk too wise

if you can dream

and not make dreams your master

if you can think

and not make thoughts your aim

if you can meet

with Triumph and Disaster

and treat those two impostors

just the same

if you can bear

to hear the truth you’ve spoken

twisted by knaves

to make a trap for fools

or watch the things

you gave your life to

broken

and stoop

and build ’em up

with worn-out tools

if you can make

one heap of all your winnings

and risk it

on one turn

of pitch-and-toss

and lose

and start again

at your beginnings

and never

breathe a word

about your loss

if you can force

your heart

and nerve

and sinew

to serve your turn

long after they are gone

and so hold on

when there is nothing in you

except the Will which says to them

‘Hold on!’

if you can talk

with crowds

and keep your virtue

or walk with kings

nor lose

the common touch

if neither foes

nor loving friends

can hurt you

if all men count with you

but none too much

if you can fill

the unforgiving minute

with sixty seconds’

worth

of distance run

yours is the earth

and everything

that’s in it

and

which is more

you’ll be a man

my son”

Poet Rudyard Kipling

(i have lived every single syllable of this transforming poem since reciting it in a high school graduation speech in May of 1991 … 35 years ago … jest yesterday)

The Return

and low

after all

the weight of snow

and searing sun

wicked wind

and raging walls of water

lies a speck of sand

at the bottom

of the sea

were it dust

it would float on up

and away

to another land

in time

but circumstantial seas

buried it beneath

the depths of oceans

far and wide

forgotten there

over time

the bygone traveler

just begun

takes a turn round the bend

to sail the stars

in search of life

where it starts

where it ends

stirring up the surface

where the sun and moon

are mirrored

it leaves a wake

the speck of sand

then can take

to travel up

from the depths

through the coral reef

and strands of weed

to break the surface

like a wild whale

racing with the wind

one heads to the blue beyond

the other to the shore

where castles

there

are built by hand

in a magic winter

wonderland

TL

he’s gone …

with the wind

TL

(Nov. 19, 1938 – May 6, 2026)

Man in the Arena

“It is not

the critic

who counts;

not the man

who points out

how the strong man stumbles,

or where the doer of deeds could have done

them better.

The credit belongs

to the man

who is actually in the arena,

whose face is marred

by dust and sweat and blood,

who strives valiantly,

who errs,

who comes up short

again and again,

because there is no effort

without error and shortcoming,

but who knows the great enthusiasms,

the great devotions,

who spends himself in a worthy cause;

who, at best,

knows,

in the end,

the triumph of high achievement,

and who,

at the worst,

if he fails,

at least he fails while daring greatly,

so that his place shall never be

with those cold and timid souls

who neither know victory

nor defeat.”

– US President Theodore Roosevelt, 1901-1909

Yeah, No

when they …

wheel ‘ya out

with your bundle

and ‘ya go forth

all careful-like

and super slow

over every bump

and dip

in the road

and then

you’re home

and it begins …

your new life

… this new life

that grows inside of you

and then outside of you

turning the burrito blankey

into a cape

the baby flies

down the hall

and the clock falls

off the wall

and you get stuck

on the seconds

the minutes

the hours

but time keeps

turning over

and over

and over

and you panic

and try to buy up

all the watches

all the clocks

but it’s too late

you’re too late

and you can see

the sequin cape

sparkling out the driver’s-side-window

as it flaps outta sight

all carefree-like

hitting every bump

and dip

in the road

boom booming

further and further

away from home

and it begins …

your new life

… this new life

that grows inside of you

and then outside of you

turning the burrito blankey

into a cape

TL

Up the Mountain

at first

school was

good

i remember it …

how it was

in pre-school

then kindergarten

1^st Grade

2^nd Grade

3^rd Grade

4^th Grade

5^th Grade

but around

6^th Grade

I noticed

a change

she had held a lot

in

but it would eventually

spill out …

at home

or in the car

or behind closed doors

she was being bullied

because of me

and she didn’t want to tell me

about it

‘cause she knew how much it’d hurt me

like it hurt her

even though she looked white

like her Daddy

the children

had seen me

their parents had seen me

and they all knew from a glance

that she was not just white

like her Daddy

that she was Asian, too

we were not prepared

for how that would

play out

I had even weighed the thought

of home-schooling her through the middle-school years

and when the bullying got really bad

in high school

I asked her several times if she wanted to switch schools

but she had worked so hard

academically

had been eyeing the Valedictorian spot

since grade-school

so she stayed

and kept climbing

despite the hate

and betrayal

‘til she made it happen …

her Valedictorian speech

was amazing

as was her full-ride scholarship

to college

where she is continuing

to crush it

in Chemical Engineering

already the recipient of two academic fellowships

she’ll head to Texas this summer

to intern at a highly competitive company

where she’ll get paid to do what she loves to do

so it won’t be work

and when she comes back in the Fall

she’ll continue tutoring college students

from various majors

who need help with their writing

from a peer who won’t judge them

for it

but will instead

encourage them

and believe in them

‘cause she knows

that Belief  

is where it all

begins …

TL

Easter ain’t Easter

without Granny

(and she’d agree)

TL