Author Archive


Posted: September 16, 2014 by gsb3 in Poetry

Capture feelings in a jar.
Stare at endings from afar.
Look inside to tell the truth.
Lose your pride in what you do.

Long I sing of kingdom come.
Long I wait to see the Son.
Ever think it would be this?
Ever lose the one you miss?

Creatures keep my eyes ablaze.
Ringing thoughts congeal a haze.
Round a circle, tried and true.
Do you think I’m also you?

Let us go together, then.
Let’s hold hands like holy men.
If you hear the way to go,
Go there quickly, so I’ll know.

Tribes of heathens curly cue.
Blow a bomb and then they sue.
Who’s to blame doesn’t seem
That important in my dream.

Tightly type around a cloud.
Clothing elbows in a shroud.
Lots of love comes round the bend.
In a temple we are friends.

Follow every tip they give.
Wanting to be how they live.
Quarter chicken in a soup.
Exercise with hula hoop.

Rowdy rainbows find your face.
Rewind kindly at a pace.
Recognize the type it is.
Drink it up with quite a fizz.

Helping angels find your room.
Hiking up a mountain view.
Cooking lactose biscuit eyes.
Do you like it grilled or fried?

I like all I recognize.
You are tempting to my eyes.
Let’s chow down until we hurt.
Just explain a second birth.

Bip Bop (I Am Me)

Posted: September 15, 2014 by gsb3 in "Unpoetry", Poetry

Fix never, slip, bip bop,
Hang twice nice triumph;
Not closed, so open,
Loud, screaming, level.

Nearby near you, then me.
Cackle creatures nickel
Meandering, rewind
Lengthy schmoozing.

Clinging to swipes.
Violent wipes tangle,
Angled towards them.
Running underneath

Realms of agreement.
Lords of acidic types
Round reading ripe.
How to claim the same,

Leaning to the best
Endings, conquest.
Defeat suffering.
Best to be least.

At the bottom,
I feel it coming.
It climbs up me.
It surrounds me.

It covers my head.
Am I happy?
That’s a silly question.
I am me.

Banana Heads

Posted: September 12, 2014 by gsb3 in "Unpoetry"

Closed to fumes
Erupting in my circumference.
Auras claim my soul tonight.
Happy halos chime the time.

What is the signal
To the riddle
Inside the home front?
Hell or high water.

The truth pushes out
From deep denied.
Chomping jowls
Herd the heaps.

Harassing n’er do wells
Cover the ancient wisdom
With recent flabbergasted
Ripe tarantula teepees.

Quite converted angel types
Come begging at my door.
I seek the end
As soon as possible.

Tackle the flames.
Recite the names
Of all the pitiful

Hanky horrendous
Manger myths.
Might sack sword rolled
Realm rowdy reviews.

Tricked, then trapped.
Trumped, then triumphed.
Flickers of smack down
Meandering banana heads.


Posted: September 11, 2014 by gsb3 in Poetry

Happy trial, stopped in flow.
Go, go, go, the last to know.
Me, then you, then both of us.
Can you tell the way I fuss?

Ending trite, I might come through.
Swivel me, and drivel you.
Holy cows and names in vain.
Waning truths believed again.

How to do the impossible:
Quite a challenge, then I throw
In the towel, running fro.
Do you solve it? Another bull.

Ending now, coming to a close.
Summarize the lies of those
Hoping fools in wishful thinking.
Truth is traded for desperate yearnings.

Ask if I can tell the difference.
Not sure of that, even inference.
Determine the delusion of the moment.
Close the door on the tangent.

Will we ever discover what
God would tell us,
Apart from our thoughts?
Maybe we will realize,

It’s all the same game,
We memorize.
Doubt claims truth,
Truth clings to doubt.

I sit here and pout.


Posted: September 9, 2014 by gsb3 in Poetry


Standing upside down,
I frown at me, underneath
My wrinkled brow.
How do I deal with this?

Dismissed from time,
I draw the line
Across the plain,
Collapsed in pain.

I strain to reach
The beach of peace,
Swimming in the surf,
I float across the waves.

Do you hear
How I rave
All about the things
I cling to?

So many things
Important to me.
So many stirrings
In my soul.

I crawl below, but
The echo controls me.
I scream to show
How my weaknesses catch me

In this web
Of torture infinity.
Am I here or there?
It fools me.

Am I real?
What is my reality?
Am I alone,
Or are you with me?

Stumbling Ahead, Chapter 4

Posted: August 27, 2014 by gsb3 in Fiction

Then, something clicked in my head. “Hell,” I thought. “Why not? I can do whatever I want to do. It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s all just a silly game. I’m in a fantasy land. I’m clueless!”

I got in the car and drove like a maniac, screeching around corners, zig-zagging from lane to lane, the usual, I guessed. I stopped at a corner store and bought a six-pack of Red Stripe, got in the car, opened a bottle, started the car, pulled out of the parking lot, then started chugging away. Michael looked at me with a concerned look on his face. “Dad, you’re not supposed to drink and drive!” “I know, Michael,” I said. “But right now, I don’t care.”

I slowed to a stop at the first red light, then, changed my mind. I floored the gas pedal, and we took off. We didn’t get far before I heard a police siren behind us. I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the flashing lights of a police car. But I wasn’t in the mood to stop, so I decided I’d do my best to try to lose him. I saw a dump truck up ahead, so, when I passed it, I took a sharp turn in front of it, then into a grocery store parking lot. I sped along, cutting across parking aisles, dodging other cars that were scattered throughout the lot. I took a sharp turn when I got to the end of the building, dashed to the back alley, then tore around the corner and through the back passageway. There were empty crates, a couple dumpsters, and more cars and a delivery truck back there. I twisted and turned around all the obstacles, screeched around the opposite corner of the building, then out into the next street. I took off down the road, then looked in my mirror. Nothing. The police car was gone. All that, and he wasn’t even behind me. I didn’t even hear a siren. “Weird,” I thought. “Did I lose him, or was he not even after me? Hmmm…”

I thought again, “Who cares, anyway!” Just then, I looked over at Michael. He looked terrified. He was hunched up in a ball, clinging to the side of his seat. “Dad,” he said, under his breath. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, Michael,” I said. “How are you?” “I’m okay. Do you think you could drive a little slower for a while? I’m a little sick to my stomach.”

I said, “Sure, no problem. I’ll try to chill out a little bit, okay?” “Okay,” said Michael. “That would be good.” I thought to myself, then, “I’ve got to get a grip on things. I’m losing my mind.” Then, I started to phase out a little bit. As we cruised down the road at a respectable 45 miles per hour, I started having memories, at least, I thought they were memories. I really couldn’t be sure.

Anyway, my thoughts were of being in high school, at the prom. Nothing exciting was happening, really. I was sitting at a dining table in a big room. Next to me, sat my date. After a few minutes of just sitting there not talking, and bored, in general, my date passed me a little tablet. “Here,” she said. “It will take the edge off things.” Then, she said, “Put it under your tongue.” Although I had no idea what it was, or what she meant by that, I tried it. Then, things got kind of blurry. The room started to spin. I got dizzy. My next memory was sitting in someone’s living room, watching other teenagers passing a small pipe. It had sort of a sweet smell. My date from the prom was there, too. I couldn’t remember her name, but, somehow, she seemed important. “I wonder if that was my wife,” I thought. She did seem very familiar. It could have been a close friend or something, I guessed.

“I’m ready to go home,” said Michael. His words brought me back to the present, pulling me away from my “trip” down memory lane. “Hmmm..” I said. “Maybe, that would be wise.” Sometimes you need a twelve year old to talk some sense into you. I slowed down, pulled into a left turn lane, then orchestrated a u-turn, heading back towards home.

Rescue Me from Me

Posted: August 26, 2014 by gsb3 in Poetry


Are you the one,
And only one
Who comes to me
In the night?

Asking questions
In my dreams
Seems to be
The way of me.

Solving riddles
Is the way
To break free.

Walking in circles,
Dreaming in rhythm,
All of the day.

Running solo,
Crossing me,
Casting lots
Into the sea.

Do you ask me
Why I say this?
Are you tortured
In your sleep?

There is no end
To the questions
In my head.

Spying something
In the corner,
Smiling at me,
Oh, so softly.

So, what becomes
Of the mystery?
Where is this journey
Going to take me?

Will I ever
Escape the tragedy?
Will you rescue
Me from me?

Loving Each Other

Posted: August 24, 2014 by gsb3 in Poetry

Loving each other
Is sometimes hard to do.
We let our preconceptions
And stereotypes
Get in the way.

Our first, second,
And third impressions
Taint our view of each other,
As if, the few conversations,
Or lack thereof,

Are all there is,
Or will ever be,
To our relationship,
Or each other,
As individuals.

We forget,
That when we take the time
To really get to know people,
We discover that
We all really have a lot in common,

We are more alike
Than we are different,
And we can always find
Aspects of each other
That are interesting and important.

What are we afraid of,
Is it really that big a risk
To get to know each other better?
We’re just afraid of

What we don’t know,
What we don’t understand,
What we don’t accept.
But we will never know,
Until we try.

Our Inner Critic

Posted: August 23, 2014 by gsb3 in Poetry


Cruel sentiments
Sometimes boil over
Into conversation.
Our inner critic
Is contagious.

What we think,
And how we feel
About ourselves,
Sometimes gets projected
Onto others.

We have been criticized
By someone in our lives,
Someone who is
Very important to us.
And, so, we do the same.

I catch the critical words
Before they reach my mouth,
They are not what I want to say.

It is so automatic, though,
That sometimes, it bursts out,
Until it is too late,
And, like someone once did to me,

I hurt someone
With cruel words,
Insensitive, critical, judgmental.
And, most of the time,
I don’t really mean it.

It just pops out,
Because it is part of who I am.
It doesn’t matter,
If I reject it as wrong
In my head.

I must take responsibility
For my harsh words,
My condescending attitude,
My cruel disposition.
I must admit my mistake

To those whom I hurt.
Even if it means,
I am going to be
Knocked down
A few pegs.

I don’t need to be
High and mighty,
I need to be humble,
Honest, compassionate.

I need to be,
Just me.

The Small Comfort of Secrets

Posted: August 23, 2014 by gsb3 in Poetry


How are you?
Slowly, you answer:
“Fine. How are you?”
Is that all we have
To say to each other?

Sometimes, it seems,
We hide in the small
Comfort of our secrets,
Never daring to shed
A light onto our struggles.

Sometimes, we don’t
Want others to know
How we really feel,
Or what we really think,
About them, or anything else.

We’re afraid to admit
That we have weaknesses,
Afraid to show
All our flaws, our doubts,
Our insecurities.

What’s funny is,
That we all have
Lots of problems and issues.
We all doubt.
We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t.

So, is it that we think
We have to be super-human?
Perhaps, all the crazy ads
And beauty magazines
Make us think this.

When we were raised,
We weren’t permitted
To be human.
We weren’t allowed

To be less than perfect.
We were punished,
Maybe, even constantly,
For sharing our feelings,
For asking for help.

We weren’t encouraged
To think for ourselves.
We weren’t allowed

To doubt, to fear, to cry.
We couldn’t express ourselves.
We weren’t allowed

To be creative,
To experiment,
To just be us.
It is a sad culture,
That does not allow

For children,
Or adults,
With problems.
We need to embrace
Each other’s issues,

To encourage each other
To be honest,
To be sincere,
To come out of the closet,
To be ourselves.

Tell me the truth.