Wooden rocking chair.

Slowly rocking in the breeze,
Enjoying the soft sun rays,
But change is coming.

Out comes the brush,
Followed by a can of paint.
Must cover that natural tone,
So that it will match the house.

Slowly the grain disappears,
Hidden beneath the stain.
Bright white pasted roughly,
Enwrapping the beautiful tan.

As it dries in the solar warmth,
Only it’s form hasn’t changed.
But it keeps a secret from the world,
Underneath it’s dressing it’s still brown.



Octopus epiphany.


So I have a weird obsession with cephalopods. They are by far one of the most interesting creatures on the planet. The octopus is the king (even though giant squids are larger). They are intelligent hunters of the sea. Their problem solving skills are on the level of higher primates. They can change color and form to evade predators and ambush prey. There are a couple theories being thrown around that their entire bodies are filled with neurons making them made up of a brain. And that they may not even originally be of our planet (this is just a comment on how much different they are from the rest of the animal kingdom).
I believe my obsession with them is because they transform to their environment so well and I find myself able to do that as well. Even when I am uncomfortable I am usually great at blending in wherever I find myself. I would rather disappear with my surroundings but I will attack if the need arises. Maybe this is a great thing, maybe it is a fault, but it is who I am…
Joe the human octopus. Fear me!


Evening air’s cool fingertips,
lightly caressing my face.
Cedar trees are dancing,
with the moon as a spotlight.
Celestial beings walking,
across the pitch black sky.

Give me that late night fog,
that slinks in across the ground,
like a panther stalking its prey,
quietly and swiftly moving,
through the golden fields,
leaving it’s moist prints,
on every blade of grass.

I am at home after the sun retires,
that time when the coyotes play,
the owls are out on the hunt,
and bats own the airspace.
The symphony of the nocturnal,
sweet orchestral performance,
filling me with joy and peace.

Gorgeous, peaceful, nighttime,
The Sun just doesn’t understand.

-Josef LeBlanc

night moon