Alabama kids

We are Alabama Kids in a Ghetto 1980s on a Chevy Vega
Me and my friends in the 1980s on our Chevy Vega. We are Alabama kids.


Chasing fireflies through the summer night
Listening to the crickets lullaby
Laying on the roof of mommas car
Searching for one more shooting star

Running through the rain of a thunderstorm
Hiding from girls in our pillow fort
Shooting potato guns into the trees
Swimming in a flooded Creek

Sliding in the mud with bare feet
Exploring The Woods until “It’s time to eat!”
Cooking popcorn as a treat
Watching movies from 1953

Screaming “Roll Tide!” in the fall
Playing hours of backyard football
Fighting with the kid from down the street
Going to church 3 days a week





Today is my grandmother’s birthday. A great woman you’ve never heard of who made a huge impact on my life. This is a little poem I wrote for her. Dedicated to Winnie Irene Woods, my grandma (1924 – 2012):

You were the first person i saw

You said my eyes were open wide

You told me i was furry like paw

You watched my first moments of life

How could i not love you

You yelled from across the street

You pulled me by the ear

You slapped my rebellious cheek

You instilled in me a Godly fear

How could i not love you

You played catch with me

You made blackberry cobbler

You moved earth and weeds

You are the perfect gardener

How could i not love you

You tickled the ivories

You sometimes sang along

You taught me about diaries

You inspired this song

How could i not love you

You laugh when we dance

You kiss me when we hug

You mend my torn pants

You are cooler than a mug

How could i not love you


Lean Back


Every breath like rumbling rivers

Repel from conversation.

Its public solitude.

Banal life seems to waste hours…

I could use a few more.

An addict of time,

Stretching each day

Can i trust the night?

Will i live my dreams or

Keep dreaming of life?


A sum of experience.

How great will my number be?

If you are the book keeper,

How will you score me?

Repel from your circle

And spectate for a change.

Watch the power of words

Break a joyful spirit,

Or renew a smile forgotten.

Be sobered and enlightened.

Maybe they are wrong.

Maybe they minipulate.

What if they can’t be trusted?

Decide for yourself.

It’s your eternal right.

Does the stone enjoy its flight,

Seeing only a blur?

Why do you hurry, scurry?

Who’s waiting for you?

I’ll be the feather.

Riding waves of the air

Take in the landscape.

Release all care.

Drink in lush arrays of flowers fully bloomed.

Relax on the daisy.

Rest under the moon.

The stone is still talking.

Deaf to surrounding beauty;

Beauty of the feather that has

Fallen to its side.

I’ll be the feather, watching your crowd.

Content in the center

Of a book i once read.

I am consistantly at ease…

Even if the crowd is dead.