Archive for life


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 13, 2014 by themanwiththecowboyboots

Two thin and crusty autumn leaves
Fell to the ground; two lifeless sheets
From there, fell broken, withered, dry,
Where globes, eternal, roam the sky
A tale so spun, so God conceives,
So heaven gives, so Earth receives
A soft prophetic lullaby
A day to live, a day to die
And down where Earthly things are bound,
A shoot naively breaks the ground
A worm in silence makes its way
As magpies sing to pass their day



Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on April 19, 2014 by themanwiththecowboyboots


Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme


Two of us in the garden, holding hands, singing and believing that we are eternal

We are eternal

Like dark spots in the ether that makes you remember your slumber

We are eternal


Parsley and sage

There are thirty one days this month and two of them are devoted to you and three of them are mine, and together we may spend a week but I will never forget to bring my calendar because we may be eternal, but we are not as eternal as we could be


Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme


I could look deeply in your eyes today, and see a reflection of myself, staring back in time, staring, because it takes light some time to travel, staring from the past, I know if I blink it will take my reflections nanoseconds to blink, I know if I disappear, my reflection will linger a little longer


The greenness of our youth, dissipated,broken apart, like the shallow rivers as the stones disrupt the peaceful slumbers


Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme 

are now darker, drier more shriveled, and you are somewhat older



We were once eternal, like a tree or a shrub, and then we were uprooted and then life took us by surprise and we were no longer


Now we are two children of a jar, like herbs whose only essence is reminiscent of yesterday


Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme


But if I could pick a moment, one moment, between the big bang and the heat death of the universe, one moment, only one of countless others, only one, I would pick ours, because there are twenty four hours a day, but only ours matter


And the monk who keeps the garden, would count the ears of corn, and he would not go to sleep, until his ears are counted

He shouldn’t have left his bed


And we would watch peacefully, from afar, and in that moment we would find that we are in sync, even if we never were, even if we have different perceptions of time, even if mine was a calendar and yours was a leaf of parsley, sage and rosemary


And we would read the newspaper and stand in the city square and solve our multiplication tables

And we would wait, and we would wait, until we are forgotten

Another F-ing Poem

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 11, 2013 by themanwiththecowboyboots

I want to be dark and depressing. I want those who read this to perhaps lose a tiny glitter of hope that once shined among others in their heart. If this kills even one atom of optimism inside you, then it has served it’s purpose.
I really am an asshole.

A certain primal fear

As disaster nears

It is fairly known to some

That laughter follows tears

If only it was said

On some, or other day

That beauty is forsaken

Then beauty will appear

Until we lose all hope we won’t

Succeed we won’t

Come near

Happiness; we won’t

Be seen with a smile

It’s not that

Life is dear

It’s just that death brings about

This fear

Your life, all before you

Seems empty

And somehow your recollections

Have no meaning

And you know

That on some dark day you’ll die and just

Like everyone else you’ll be


Life, which was once so dear


Void of meaning and it seems

That there is no way for retribution

That you shall forever be destined

To die

And on that cursed deathbed

You find

True peace is not in fighting but

In giving up

In order to see the beauty

Of life we must adhere

To one


All that we see

Is fleeting and

Once we live it

It’s dead

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