as i do it again

as i do it again i fear i cannot stop
i fade into the swallowing fog

i am losing my way as i wander along
lost in sorrow i fear what i have become

stand aside and bear witness to my own demise
knowing both truth and consequence

silent and ashamed i keep to myself
alone in the disease of my own making

hear the warning calls of the one i love
see the shame and feel the codependency

the tormenting weight of addictive turning
presses upon me like a millstone's grind

the thief has arrived my life to steal
concealed already in the robbers bag i rest

giving way i yield to slippery slope
feed the dereliction of desire

fuel the fire and fan the flames
even as my own flesh burns

inflict the pain of the prisoners mirth
tightened rack at my own hand

cannot speak the shameful words
pride and fear has marked the way

lament the disappointment's curse
guilt has paved the rueful way

down the path of no return
what is to become of me? i say

in what truth shall my children rest?
that i have succumb to a grave?

that in cursed pleasure opened in jest
i long to find and know the rooted cause

for this malignancy that rots in my soul
i look without and never within

deny myself the truth from which i hide
sick and troubled my countenance fades

cannot bear the burden that is mine
to disappoint the maternal and bridal pride

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

bottled death

you follow in the shadows
lurking, watching, stalking

you whisper in the dark
calling, attracting, luring,

you weave a lurid tale
acting, exaggerating, lying

you draw me away
painting, portraying, promising

you massage my inhibitions
touching, soothing, stroking

you promise rabid joy
cavorting, frolicking, carousing

you deliver reckless fools
slurring, staggering, humiliating

you steal my sensibility
robbing, pillaging, raping

you rock my judgement to sleep
flirting, caressing, seducing

you extricate my dignity
releasing, forgetting, embarrassing

you inebriate my soul
wandering, abandoning, convicting

you leave me with my guilt
regretting, weeping, repenting

you take away my hope
depressing, maligning, destroying

you are bottled death
sickening, debilitating, killing

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

life awry

feel the pull
tendon's strain
the cord taut
cutting grain

drawn the noose
by friendly hand
darkened eyes
a final stand

see the edge
toe the line
feel the death
invite the crime

cannot stop
sudden plunge
the rush of life
to be undone

die at once
no refrain
sorrow takes
away the pain

no one knows
voices within
drawing nigh
calloused grin

life undone
in ordered steps
systematic
odd regrets

reason falls
shallow grave
self-inflicted
deadly wave

portent rise
missive thrust
adamant truth
unhallowed trust

saved alone
peace in jest
life awry
dead by self

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

judgement's curse

judge not the choices another man makes
misguided movements of another's soul
don't stand apart from humanity's stake
in living life by freedoms grandest toll

look up above and find your guidance fair
to he or what in faith alone will trust
and know that you and you alone are where
the faithful leap of choice is ever just

i cannot judge my neighbors way of life
as failing to meet some most sacred creed
only in death do we share common strife
the freedom to see our mistakes impede

leave well enough alone is what i say
to all who stand in most bitter vile rage
no god gave you the sacred right of way
to judge the acts on another man's stage

be free and fight for all that freedom brings
to live your shortest life in peaceful bliss
without the burden of the warring stings
of judgement's curse and evil's cold redress

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

alison

i don't know you really
but i see you in my dreams
your narcissism fuels my flame
and fires my loins
with malcontent
while guilty thoughts
of merriment course
my inner veins

your beauty fills the cyber lanes
and gilds the lonely day
as i look for peace
in your sea of words
and die in your evil pain
throbbing pains
of vengeful shame upon
your spousal rage

but alison your radiant smile
i see with closing eyes
your glowing grace
of unknown ways
mysterious happiness reviled
i know not where
or why you cry
in anguishing lament

i reach for you wanting you
to touch your bared breast
to share your lively
witted smile that suckles
upon your chest
in peaceful smiling
radiant
and silent rest

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

what music will we sing

what music do you sing
in your heart when you dream
what is your stereotype?

is there room in your soul
for more than what you know
to be the ambiguous archetype?

can you swing, can you sway
is courage there to play
in colors more than hype?

can you groove in the shoes
of different souls than you
in rhythms that are ripe?

are the skins of bronze and rouge
and browns with all their hues
coloring your world tonight?

can you share in the joys
of multicolored girls and boys
who dance in musical delight?

will you jam in your soul
as the inner-city grows
with drumming power and fight?

can your burdens unite
in common human strife
to breathe life’s vigil light?

can the music’s sweetness flow
from your head to your toes,
bring peace to your darkened night?

can we open our eyes
to see a paradise in
hides of our neighbors plight?

can we lay aside ways
long instilled through our days
to bring peace into purest light?

can you take my tarnished hand
and dance in demented lands
to usher in the noble knight?

will you lay down your blades
and calls for jihad’s ways
to dance with me in plain sight?

can you trust my outstretched hand
which longs for you to stand
with me, although i am white?

will you give me a chance
to act far beyond the romance
to dance in peaceful respite?

can you join my rapt jazz
and play a tune that has
the peaceful rhythms of right?

what music will we sing
in our hearts when we dream
when we write the new stereotype?

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

if ere there's been a time

if ere there’s been a time that longed to call
upon a pow’r with greater strength than i;
to reach out to another one; to fall
upon my knees in humble fear, then why,
can it not be now? what wretched pride made
naught my fearful heart, and gallant folly
filled it's noble place? o that my faith was staid!
my unbent brow in contrition would be,
in awe before the holy majesty
of life and death and all that is unseen.
i'd bow in fearful hope to share my plea
to see beyond the way that i have been.

but yet, alas the fruit of death once hung
has poured it's deadly wine upon my tongue.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

out tamarack way

out tamarack way
we roam the mountain spines
up grandpa’s crooked back
smelling of laurel bay
where outlaws dream
in lonesome refrain
as sisters watch
and brothers play

out tamarack way
summer winds blow cold
on mossy rocks
over valleys broad
where peaceful rest
finds heavens day
upon the appalachian’s
ancient sway

out tamarack way
where beech king’s reign
and river’s new blood flow
we left a piece
of who we’ll be
when days of old
are ours to hold
as memory of today

out tamarack way
my heart does fly
across the morning mist
on sculpture strokes
of creation’s host
upon the godly crest
i long for the life of mountain folks
upon tamarack’s clay

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

in my dream

in my dream, the world is a place that sees
with blinded eyes; that knows no means to steal
the hopes and dreams of those who dare reveal
a vision pure, of life as all could be.
with blinded eyes she can, and will, not see
the status of the dreamers flesh appeal,
or judge envisioned themes by carnal seal,
to dash the dream upon a crimson sea.

and in my dream, the world knows only peace
that’s bore on shoulders scorched by golden sun
alone, without the wars of man, or run
to bear the weight of mourning death’s caprice;
but strong with lifting bountiful increase
of earthly gifts, and store that pour upon
the labored toil of hands that never shun
loves burdened chore to give to all, a feast.

and in my dream, the mystery we seek,
the corporeal way; the keeper of life;
in peaceful curiosity that’s rife
with common ground for each man to bespeak
of eternal life in his own way unique;
no fear of any other man’s vain strife
to drive him from his goal of living life,
or alter his search for god through critique

and in my dream i’m free to dream of what
my heart desires. and dream of what i can
become. and be what only i can stand
upon my own two feet to be. my thought
shall only dwell upon this dream that taught
me how to see the good that’s in a man
and not upon the fear of what i am
when the baneful waking hour is duly wrought.

and in my dream, i see a world where all,
like gifts upon a barren alter, show
that not the taker reaps the givers vow,
but gifts do flow to they who give enthralled
to give like they who give not less than all
of what they have to live. they give although
they risk it all to free the grief and woe
and leave their burdens at the wailing wall.

and in my dream, no man does live without
the riches of the earth in all her share.
and no man seeks to harm a soul or err
against the love that lives in man throughout.
no harbored stores of harvest gold are cast about;
no helpless hungry mouths lie silent there;
but mother earth pours forth, their living share
that none, to feed, will live their lives in doubt.

and in my dream, diversity embraced
is mankind struggling in common fate.
no feeble bigotry or sanctioned hate;
no misspent anger aimed for racial chaste.
each human soul, in harmony is placed
in unity with heart and soul’s innate
redress; our loving care for all mandates
we all embrace each others dreams in grace.

and in my dream, all gods pour love and promise
upon creation, mortal, and aware
of heavenly guides who give all care, and share
their goodness without fear of their demise
by mankind’s longing search for compromise
‘tween pleasure, faith, carnal lust and prayer;
to join the flesh with spirit and repair
this dreamers soul, rent wide in sleeping reprise.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

some days i feel so strong

some days i feel so strong. and then i don’t.
like a virgin rose I greet the ruddy dawn
with glory, but to wilt and fade upon
the parched and crusted land as scarcely gaunt.

i rise in joy to find the strength within
awaiting me like a gaucho’s trusty steed
tramping rich to gallop in flowing speed
harnessing power, forsaken to the wind.

i soar on wings like knives upon the breeze
like blinding light i cut across the sky
to carve the way that is mine alone to ply
in raptor’s dive, with talons borne to seize.

but then it’s as some spirit robbing shade
steals the life, and leaves the tab unpaid.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

my kimberleigh

so sweet and pure, my kimberleigh, adorned
with glory’s smile; her radiant joy shines sweet
like new found gold, a fortune-filled retreat.
she grows in grace and peacefulness, she’s born
with charm and care. her dignity was formed
in years before her birth; passed down complete
with honor found through passion built on deeds.
She shares her trove with all who seek her store.

my kimberleigh, she fills my days with more
than i should know. her loving touch is where
i need, and when i need it most. but not
before her wisdom fair has found the source
of that which caused my heart to pain, and shared
her healing grace, the smile my pain has sought.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

when at the end of days

when at the end of days i stand, alone
and silent in a land that i know not,
memories of you will flood my soul, wrought
in joy and pain that only can be shown
in peaceful rest, and life renewed and honed.
shorn of fleshly lust that youth has sought,
free of fear, distrust and shallow care. caught
in arms of love where aging years were grown.

you, my love, are the measure of my worth;
the balance of my life, paid from my birth.
your beauty far exceeds the flesh we bare;
you touched my soul with everlasting care.
my days now done, eternity is clear
you, my love, are with me and ever near.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

the stream

each day your life blood flows from start to end
upon the crusted brow your shadow flows.
from dawn to dusk your urgent power sends
all precious gifts upon your step bestowed.

you bring new life to they who pause and rest
upon your banks to cool and touch your soul.
of life, they drink of you, upon their breast
while dining free on deadly feasts untold.

vile curse of killing fields take life for life
and feast in sight of all your glory staid.
who tastes the blood of every victim’s strife
but they who lie in rest beside your shade?

pour forth healing waters upon my face
and rid me of this deadly fall from grace.

© 2007 BY W GARY FORRESTER

what you make of it

life is what you make of it
so the story goes
maybe more or less of it
maybe so…who knows?

we breathe in and we breathe out
no one seems to know
the truth of life…what it’s about
in and out it flows

sages say it’s in our heads
in our hearts to hold
maybe just...can it be said?
the truth can't be told

wise men, priests and godly souls
seek the face of it
out there hidden in the knolls
lurking 'round a bit

we all want to know the thing
that sets us all free
grasping for the cosmic string
to garnish life with glee

meaning seekers high and low
abandon all at last
on their deathly beds they show
mortal shadows cast

standing on our violent shore
pause and seek new life
spring in paradise adorned
burdened seeds of strife

life is what you make of it
leave not a stone unturned
grasp it all, take all of it
as lessons thankfully learned.

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

by cursed fate

for Sam... b: 3/29/50 d: 5/23/07

by cursed fate i stand in awe anew
to view again death's shadow falling true.
an open chasm cries for mortal flesh,
like weeping babes baying for the breast.

the gaping earth, she yearns for fleshly krill
unsatisfied she cries wanting more, still;
longing for bones, she widens more her girth,
never enough, her hunger for more is birthed.

O cursed are thee, foul death, who never wanes
but lives to wrack our lives in mortal pain.
cursed are we who watch in fearful shame
as you, foul death, our loved ones live to claim.

who, cursed grave of earth, are you to feast
upon the mortal fruit of man and beast,
to dine upon the souls as common fare
and macerate the loneliness without care?

why? ask we, in a deep and mournful drone.
why we are left at all, empty, alone?
what shall we do and how shall we go on,
and why shall we not die before the dawn?

i stand and stare into your vile and gaping wound
cursing your thirst for melancholy boon.
never filled your invitation calls clear
to lie in fallow earth, for all men is near.

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

pleasantries

you throw your weight around
like a mortar blast
demanding attention
like a plague

you bark and drool 'cross town
like a rabid pest
snarling ambition
like a threat

you priss and preen in vain
a showgirl's debut
flaunting attention
debutant

you spew your vile poison
like a riled viper
permanent condition
like a death

you chastise your allies
like a venus stare
stonewalling rendition
like a rock

you patronize your foes
like a bitch's lair
inviting suspicion
like a thief

you demoralize all
like satan's fall
demonic habitation
like a flame

you live your life in fear
like a trembling child
egotistical cage
like a mouse

you never think of them
like they who give t'you
self-abasing few
like a bruise

your day will come and soon
like falling statues
debasing barrage
aimed at you

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

the divide

ambition is an ambulatory condition
flowing in and through the veins
renewing anew the waning sinews
pulsing in and to the brain
resurrection of the fallowed erection
caressing and feeding the flames

dereliction is a salutary predilection
ignorance of and for the strain
wasting away in incessant debasing
societal silent refrain
transformation of freedom's foundation
blind eyes turned from the pain

derivation is an ego-centric manifestation
rewards for self to attain
cavorting for me and others aborting
successfully measured remains
pillaged raping of the common good's failing
opportunity on bludgeoned stains

capitalism is the democratic schism
the great divide is plain
wealth gained on striped backs obtained
gross division of prosperity sustains
freedom redefined as the aristocracy arrived
the peoples' liberty in chains

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

sometimes

for the victims of the VT massacre...

i feel so cold, sometimes
when the harsh wind blows
i hold to what i know
and try not to show
that i'm frightened
by the passing storm
of rage

it terrifies me, sometimes
the lightning flash
a moment in time
that sears the soul
i fear to realize
humanities cursed fall
to mortality

i feel so numb, sometimes
when i see the scathing touch
of mankind's cruel stroke
of vile thirst for blood
stealing the very breath
from those who share
this life

i weep alone, sometimes
for the loss of it all
the innocence of childhood
falls to the torrents of evil
crowned on the brow of man
taking and ravaging all
that is pure

i pray aloud, sometimes
to god in utter awe
and fear of the one
that knows my thoughts
and sees my inner fear
to act upon the vile display
of discontent

i curse it all, sometimes
and despise the world
that maligns and kills
it's own beating heart
robbing history of new life
replacing the joy of youth
with sorrow

i reach in hope, sometimes
to grasp the reigns anew
to ride the winds of change
in peaceful freedoms way
man's potential fulfilled
refreshed and renewed
in god's grace

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

and so it goes

In memorial

Kurt Vonnegut

11/11/1922 - 04/11/2007

another war today began
and so it goes

innocent death at the hands of man
and so it goes

justice lives where no man stands
and so it goes

injustice lives in violent bands
and so it goes

we crush the life of innocent hands
and so it goes

scourge the peace across the land
and so it goes

putrid stench of deadly strands
and so it goes

in horrid stance the blood flow ran
and so it goes

death continues at man's awful hands
and so it goes

the poet sings and screams again
and so it goes

lives and dies while in the end still stands
and so it goes

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

peace

i tire of the day that's filled with hate
that tears at the soul of mankind's fate
weeping in the moment of a deadly state
aware of every malevolent slate
mourning the bloodshed of violence innate
praying for peace too late
too late

i die a little in a daily dirge
i witness the potent malfeasant surge
the call for death delivered at the urge
of the warmongering moronic call to purge
the evil of misunderstood forsaken curse
driven by the strings of the purse
the purse

i cry for all in dire repose
to reach for another embracing those
whose pained existence for calamity arose
to strike at what insecurity exposed
as vile ungodly threats composed
of wealth that greed sows
that greed sows

i strive to lay my soul in peace
to live in love with all who lease
breath from the source of life's release
longing to hold in arms of love i reach
to them that my calm would breach
in longing hope for peace to teach
for peace to teach

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

mercy's edge

on mercy's edge we cling
wishing, wanting, bleeding
for gracious touch we sing
in joy, in time, in peace

on mercy's edge we share
giving, praying, clinging
forgiveness comes unaware
in time, in peace, undeclared

on mercy's edge we bleed
panting, grasping, sharing
humanity shares the seed
in peace, in war, in deed

on mercy's edge we join
uniting, reviving, surviving
mankind renewed by loin
in war, in deed, we mourn

on mercy's edge we cling
wishing, wanting, bleeding
for gracious touch we sing
in joy, in time, in peace

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

no peace today

a baby died today
burning flesh
life fled away
mother cried
when the soldiers
came

allah cried dismay
creation burned
and swayed
mullah's spat
when the soldiers
stayed

christ walked away
blood flowed
wounds displayed
fathers cursed
as the soldiers
obeyed

death played today
piercing souls
as prey
dancing merrily
when soldiers plied
their trade

desert burns in play
as god mourns
the day
he blessed
the soldiers
deadly tirade

no mercy in the clay
of mankind's
blistered way
pouring wrath
in the soldiers
wicked tray

no peace today
or any day
when in the dawn
man's ire is born
on the soldiers
shouldered play

warfare's way
cannot be made
a peaceful stay
peace is found
when soldiers place
their guns away

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

they as us

someone pointed the way today
cleared a path for me
showed me
held my hand
it felt like they cared
in a scolding way
pity maybe
if not love

that human touch though
touched my soul
gave me
security abreast
it felt like they cared
in an insecure way
pathetic maybe
if not empathy

not exactly warmth
but yet not cold
guiding me
encouraging
it reached out to me
in a guarded way
frightened perhaps
but present

i love humanity still
in spite of us
thrilling me
caring
touching everyone
cautiously
knowing deep inside
we're the same

we can't escape our fleshly link
tying one to all
feeling me
wanting to know
understanding
gently
the struggle we share
together

you know me inside
in spite of the hate
we grow
bound as one
living
dependent
leaning and pushing
alive

i am thankful for the touch
the strangers hand
of camaraderie
love me as you
and i'll love you as me
we
they as us
joined

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

tolly's lament

sometimes the pain is so great
the failure so straight
the compassion too late
the mind cannot support the weight

did the wrong
was where did not belong
evidence is strong
enduring is long

cannot take what is to come
cannot hide from the funeral drum
deserve only to succumb
fate is sealed and am numb

ending is better sometime
death the only sublime
only control is to climb
to punish my own crime

take my life in stride
honest to the end arrive
self punishment derived
only peace in suicide

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER

my heart's intent

who made you
judge and jury
of my soul?
dissecting my heart
autopsied intent
proclaiming it vile
the cause of love's
dying breath
and death

sleeve adorned
feelings galore
marred in innocent
banter judged
as slander
deemed to be
uncaring
insensitivity
unaware

how can you know
the intent of the soul
of another
sojourner?
words paint in
dimension's bounds
granting a view
only unsettled
ground

assume evil and
evil you find
veiled in composition
sublime
scathed scandal
hurtful ramble
judged actions
accountable
at birth

why must i
sell myself again
and repair
a vow unbroken?
proclaimed guilty
vile motive
professed
"i wasn't even there
your honor"

since you know
the intentions
of my soul
why don't you
know
the whole
of my love
for
you?

my words have life
all on their own
free
of interpretation
no parenthetical
secret guise
hidden
in obtuse
gesture

my love rests
in your hands
unchanged
but burdened
by fetters
and lashed
by cold lament
that thou knowest
my heart's intent

© 2007 BY W. GARY FORRESTER