Fall: Trees of Life Remembered: AND Don’t Fix It If It Ain’t Broke! A Lesson From A Know It All …

Hello every body; Friends. Likers.  (OK, bikers too) First and Last time readers and all good people who read my poems and stories especially the people I see all the time who I feel I have a unique kinship with.  It seems that they like my work almost as much as I do and I love my work.  It’s nice to get the reassurance I get from you and I sincerely appreciate you.

When I read my stories and poems I’m almost always amazed that these words and these thoughts came out of me!  WHERE DO THEY COME FROM, I constantly ask myself.

Enough!  What I want to tell you all and everybody about is a rule I learned that served me well.  A voice that tells me …….. “Leave it alone! Don’t fix it if it’s NOT BROKEN”

Wull, I just learned it again today but because I remembered too late I’ve reduced what I wrote to a shitty ‘over tweaked’ poem.  Now I’m stuck.  Embarrassed, fer crying out loud! … Jeeeze … I told Jodi it was like walking around with my fly open and part of a white shirt sticking out .  Just enough to make it stupidly embarrassing, which iI feel.

So, here’s how it happened.

I was dozing, I had just started seeing the dark that comes before …. going under  … not ‘sleep’ rather ‘going under’.

Ok so, I had just started to go under … to see the darkness encroach, when my phone whistles at me.  Do you have a phone that whistles? Sounds like a bird? I don’t mind the sound but sometimes it’s pretty annoying.

My eyes flew open like somebody had just shot me between the eyes with a 22 calibre pistol.

Since I was lying on the couch by the sliding glass door, I turned my head and looked up at the trees.

They were swaying in the breeze, side to side, mostly green (but, turning color quickly), a gentle hiss, their hands  moving to and fro touching as they passed by.  The sky pale blue.

The reds and yellows were already being nudged off by the daily winds.  Mostly reds and oranges.  Leaves were falling through the air like giant colorful flakes of snow different colors mixing.  Absolutely beautiful, of course.

Quick as a …. I can’t think of a metaphor or … are those things analogies??  “Quick as a … ,” So I guess I’ll say, “Quick as a motherfucker,” I grabbed my phone and wrote the poem below and it was beautiful … I really liked it.  It’s not EXACTY the poem below. You’ll see.

The words flowed out of me.  It was interesting to watch my finger tick on letters of words that I was thinking as the thoughts assembled themselves.  I was outside of myself watching myself ‘hunt and peck’.

I liked the piece so, I transcribed it into the computer and posted it.

Within a short time I had 6 or 7 ‘Likes’ and that was cool.  A couple of new people that I doubt will come back but so what?  It’s still nice to see someone stop by, like what you’ve written, tell you they liked it then move on. It’s wonderful, in fact …

So since it was pretty good I thought I’d make it better so, I started tweaking it, making it more ‘logical’ … action proceeding in a straight line;  idea, reason or reason idea blah blah … I began trying to fucking explain everything.  Fuck that!

Pretty soon I had the damn thing so “F worded” up I almost cried and since I didn’t want to touch it because I kind of hated it, I left it here but …   it’s SO EMBARRASSING that this innocent, beautiful poem became twisted, stupid and  embarrassing.

So … apologize to those who read it, thought ‘Ewwww … ‘ and left never to be seen again.

So, the reason for all this bullshit is,  I wanted to give you the rule for writing poetry I use all the time  …. sometimes!!! … not always … this rule doesn’t work always  …  Nothing is right 100% of the time, right?

So as I mentioned already, here’s the rule again … listen the little voice that says, “Leave it alone, stupid.  Don’t fix it if it isn’t broke!”(Not always!  But, often enough).

The proof of the pudding is the following poem.  God knows, you might like it but, originally I think it had an innocence and sense of power.  Now all it is is some pretty words.   Awwwww ….. Awwwww …


So, I hope you get some use out of my “know it all” advice.

For those who think I’m REALLY being stupid instead of just acting stupid, all I can say is ”Why don’t you go masturbate yourself!!?”  Oops! … oh! jeeze! I’m sorry … !!! I’m really sorry!  That happens all the time!  I get so enthused.  I can’t help it!

So, anyway, read on if you want to.  ks … Ewwww ….

Thank you for your time and … I sell on ebay also so …. whoops!  Did it again.  Take care good people.  With sweet love for you who I see often, you make my heart feel warm.  Kurt



Wind’s a blowin’
leaves a fallin’
Fall’s a gettin’ ready
to rest its trees
underground to dream
vast earth dreams.

Our trees returning to


Leaves, their days in the sun
near done
celebrate with
prisms of color
once absorbed during the days of
earthly delight
the time of sun’s brief flight.

First red then orange
the first and second prismatic light
we see … the attraction of
majesty only partly seen
like the tail end of
a lovely sunset.

Comes next
yellow … of all the places on
the wheel of light’s fractal colors

the one that glows mid way
between lines with  definition;

Yellow glows as the refection of sun’s whole light
it sought from above.

They are the lucky ones who get to walk in
Sol’s great footsteps.


You’re familiar with, of course after
five months with limbs
the greatest parts/reaching out through

space and time with
loving fingers
running through existence
one last burst of color.

the gatherers of sunlight/their colors seen separately through life’s  spectrum  contained within.

Their colors seen separately/they are

the gatherers of sunlight

Green leaf gathering life so beautifully with sound that hushes and whistles low;
makes sweet sap from sun’s light

with great  great mystery.

Their work of summer’s past given
with delight to brew and wait ‘till
the nap of time

is over.

Their’s is the
nourishment taken from above
stored below then given back
to prove we’re all a part of cycles.

ALL of life within the bounds of living
the draught of sweet delivery
sustenance for next years progeny
next year’s offspring, given.

The sweet flood of
innocence and caring
passing on sweet memories of
summers past.

The blood of renewal
a welcome mat rolled out, the
pablum of hope, the splendor of
new growth!

Comes blue and violet that
unseen world of light remaining  hidden
except for maples and a few others
both ends of the world from
beginning to end; red and purple
emerging one from the other
home at last to rest,
to feel earth dreams before
rebirth again and again and again the
lessons of ‘being’ if only seen and


The majesty of trees!

spectacle, the
cycle born anew,  the same
lessons taught with each
November, the movement of
all that matters

they carry us through
time ..


Comes a time to rest the ‘eyes’ of their
community one great world of their
awareness connected

soon to go below to see
and HEAR and to remember
Mother’s most precious gift:

Life’s splendor ..

Wind and leaves the breath of our well being

within the bounds of
what they are we lie captured in between

Wind and leaves and trees the
great Mother who gives us
what we need, the
breath of

forever …

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