meant for more

Like tiny lights in the sky

One day ill learn to shine

I’ll dust my coat

And fully glow

Because I’m meant for more,

I know.


I’ll spread my wings and learn to fly

Above the clouds

And awful crowds

Which mostly

Rained on me

When on the ground I laid.


Soon enough there’ll

Be space for more

And I will grow

And learn to soar.

‘till then ill drink a Pepsi.

Summer Salts

With summer salts and jumps

I reach out to you

But you aren’t there.

Jump higher, climb faster

All of this I try to do

But why,

Who cares,

Who’s really there to catch me when I fall?

–Not you.

Golden Moment

Life is beautiful!

Despite it all

It’s beautiful orchestra plays on.

We think about the future:

“Tomorrow will be better,

I’ll plan today and play mañana,

Today is for the ‘morrow.”

It feels like a rehearsal practice

No real deal

You’re patiently waiting

All the while loosing today

Wake up and cherish

This closing moment

It’s golden, it’s true,

It’s all for you.


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Killing Time

Trying to make things happen

But nothing seems to take.

I want to get

to that quiet place

where everything stands still

and you know just what to do.

You’re thrilled!
But no not me, myself, or I.

Like Midas’ reciprocal

I turn my things to shit.

I try to strive

Yet time and time

My efforts aren’t rewarded.

For now I think I’m done

I’ll sit here; killing time

while really time is killing me.


Love Child

I’m a lo, lo, l’ouve child

Hear me speak

Saying truths you’d rathern’t meet

Out o darkness dare I creep

From your depths do I declare


I’m not rare

But rather fond

O your heart

Where I can’t frown

Where I can’t crown my own demise

And where I drown in your despise


Give me liberty or keep me deaf

For I cant take all of these lies

They’re too many

It’s hard to see

I am re-burning

And my eyes bleed

As they open to this world

That in darkness holds a key.

I’m in love.

The Man In The Glass

When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day
Just go to the mirror and look at yourself
And see what that man has to say.

For it isn’t your father, or mother, or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.

He’s the fellow to please – never mind all the rest
For he’s with you, clear to the end
And you’ve passed your most difficult, dangerous test
If the man in the glass is your friend.

You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass
But your final reward will be heartache and tears
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.

–Peter Dale Wimbrow Sr.

Love is No. 1

Play with my words it’s not always words at first sight:


Life’s a miracle not a mirage

But go ahead and look

A visionary in a world of icons.

See them for what they are,

No more no less than you 2.

We all just hue-mans

Find your color,

Know and own

Your dye and stain.

Ain’t no shame, we are.

We here,

For Liberty and Happiness,

Cuz we ain’t just.

We one of many

And often are many

For the ones we love.

The Abnormal is Not Courage

The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace. 
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it’s not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn’t that. Not at its best.
It was impossible, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore’s heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month’s rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment. 

–Jack Gilbert