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If your plurals are askew,

If your singulars disagree,

If you misplace your commas,

If you misuse your apostrophes,

If you misspell your words,

If you cannot create a cogent thought,

You should not post.

The world and your dignity will thank you.

Taking Responsibility

Do not argue any dichotomy within yourself as opposing lawyers take sides in a court room.

Rather, force your mind into one being, where the whole is fully responsible for the whole.

The 'good' side is one with the 'bad' side. The admirable with the reprehensible.

So shall honesty be maintained in the whole, with no decay to sit hidden and fester.

According to Fernando

"Football (soccer) is a gentlemens' sport played by workers.
"Rugby is a workers' sport played by gentlemen."

That Autumn Feeling

Sit and sink into that chair
Sun’s warm compression
Filling the soft, quiet air
Bringing cares to rest, recession

Eyes shaded by hat and glass
Lazily tilting chin to chest
Soak the warmth beneath the skin
That soft tingly feeling

Fingers to toes
Knees to nose
Long golden touch
That hazy feeling

Indoors is quiet, pounding relaxation
Posture giving way to careless slump
Neck bends back, shuttered lids exposed
A dreamy sunrise at noon

Painless stab of shine
Lull is quickly broken in brilliance
Eager to return to dark and rest
That half resisting feeling

Lids snap tighter
The red heated squint
Half-rude awakening
A soft slap and back to bliss

Outside the grass is cool, tickling and winding
Sky round above, filling in the sides
Or perhaps bumpy bark propping
Slices of leafy silhouette spotting

Tinge of icy breath, a gentle exhale
Coaxes bumps for an instant
Drowsily aware and unhastily contemplate
Fall is whisping in, almost unnoticed

That Autumn Feeling

Rewind

Head swimming,
Eyes heavy,
Knees weak,
Mind brimming,

It happened so fast
I said it all
I can’t believe my words
But it’s done

Open mouth, insert foot
Floods my thoughts
Like it wasn’t me out there talking
Like a film playing out before me

And then it hits
A feeling so sick and true
You can’t take it back
Yes, now all’s stone set

The wish comes next
A searing iron in my chest
I just want to undo
To set it right and clear

The door slams
The phone clicks
The address deleted
The numbers erased

In the dark
Lying on my bed
I wish I could rewind
And play the tape again

Call me Fish

Verse and prose and all things written,
peak an interest seldom hidden.

I am a questioner and a doubter,
a ceaseless wonderer and omnilover,
a quasi-geek and a shameless friend,
and to some a filthy bastard.

So bring your heart and your head.
I will greet you with beer and bread.
we'll sit and speak of endless things,
and of the places we have been.

The stars and sun wheel 'round our laughter,
we'll spin and sing even then long after.

Pens

Whenever you travel, from shoe tying to grocery,
or from familiar haunts to foreign country,
make sure you bring two pens,
and stow them surely in pocket safe.

One for lending and one for you,
to write the thoughts that come and go,
of street and plain, vista and hue.

Of memories and philosophies, old and new,
that turn and tumble through your mind,
but pause to sit and palaver, first one, then two.

And without pen to scrawl them here or there
(for pens can write most anywhere)
They will vanish, quick as fading shades,
To be overrun by next one's tirades.

At least two pens you must choose,
one for lending and one for you.