Welcom To

Welcom To
By AquarianM

Saturday, April 18, 2020

Everybody's Down...

Everybody's Down... 

Put me in hole,
Way down deep,
Lay down your darkness,
At my feet,
And there I'll meet,
All those secrets,
That you keep.

Everybody's down,
Everybody's down.

I see them walking downtown,
Strutting all around,
Look at me!

Everybody's down,
Everybody's down.

All these illusions,
Sad delusions,
Must be at least,
Six deep,
Scent of fear,
Cries I hear,
Begging for release.

Everybody's down,
Everybody's down.

We don't know yet,
The depth of the darkness,
The sad darkness,
Of true defeat,
Or have the patience,
For a bended knee.

Everybody's down,
Everybody's down.

It's not over,
No walking toes in clover,
No dancing in the street,
No lost lovers meet,
No sunny end yet,
For this dark disease.

Everybody's down,
Everybody's down,
No one's waiting around.

Put you in hole,
Way down deep,
Lay down our darkness,
At your feet,
And there you'll meet,
All those secrets,
That they keep.

Everybody's down,
Everybody's down.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/18/2020

Tuesday, April 14, 2020

The Bandana King...

The Bandana King... 

That small square of cotton,
Ancient symbol of freedom,
Comfort and protection,
A place to hide,
A way to be seen,
Hot pad at the campfire,
A classic,
As American as apple pie,
But more like hot dog,
I can mask them with the best of 'em,
Have a stout collection,
Maybe someday I'll start a bandana museum,
Classes on folding,
Janice singing Bobby McGee,
Long hair a uniform requirement,
Straight or ponytail,
Like prayer flags for an American heart,
Maybe the bandana will survive the corona,
Move from my face to my head,
But one things for sure,
No one's laughing at me for collecting them,
But I don't mind if they do,
Just wear yours,
Red or blue,
Green grey or yellow,
Black or purple,
If you want to be cool.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/13/2020

Monday, April 13, 2020



In the end it's what it takes.

Survival with a smile,
Breaking down into tears and laughing,
Manic by mandate,
Some get high on love,
Some get high on hate.

Dread and take-out,
The whole world gone virtual,
Like the scientists theorize,
Our lives happen in a hologram.

Raw-hand washing,
The wrinkled fingers of karmic fate,
Singing songs of masked heroes.

We're all the lone ranger now.

Anti-social distancing games,
Love from a distance,
So strange now,
A month ago,
It was hands you'd shake.

If you can sew,
Don't sow paranoia,
Be a good citizen before it kills you to,
This isn't forever,
But it'll be awhile.

Essentials work like dogs,
The rest bored and restless,
This pandemic dichotomy,
Might be the biggest killer of all,
So says the masked distancer,
Sword high over a TP roll.


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 04/13/2020

Thursday, April 02, 2020

The Legend Of Lone-Hand Dan...

The Legend Of Lone-Hand Dan...

Euchre - the only team sport that uses playing cards.

He lived in the Carlton Hotel,
An old run-down place in a small Wisconsin town,
Built in the late 1800's,
With a bar in the lobby,
And two floors of drunks and lost souls above,
A God-send at $30.00 per week.

The crowd would gather on a Friday night at good ol' Steve Kessler's place,
Stick Man who looked like Festus only taller and way skinnier,
A decent soul maybe a little lost,
Russell and Mikki who were brother and sister,
One cool and one beautiful,
Egor of the silence with a vacuous but deceptive smile,
Rotundo the Young and Round,
And of course,
Lone-Hand Dan.

The beer was bought,
The kitchen table set,
The cards were readied,
The first two teams of partners chosen,
The contest began.

In Euchre the deal always passes to the left.

Steve's house and cards,
Steve's first deal,
Who's got the Jacks,
Who's got the Aces,
Who calls trump,
Who's laying in the weeds?

Faces intent,
Cigarettes smoking,
Beers sipping,
Strategies unfolding,
First points earned,
An all-nighter fore shore.

Second round,
Deal passes to Dan,
That special deck of Steve's,
The slow methodical shuffle Dan uses,
Old-school let the cards fall over the cards,
Intent with focus he shuffles and shuffles...

"Will you quit shuffling and deal already?!"

...the final card fall he feels it,
One more time over and the cards are dealt.

The light over the table is burning bright,
The crowd around the table watches,
Sure enough someone calls Trump,
The inevitable words are spoken:
"I'm going alone."

It's a little bit heebie-jeebie,
But when Lone-Hand Dan deals off THAT deck of Steve's,
Somebody is getting dealt a loner,
Might be Dan's team,
Might be the other,
But SOMEONE is going it alone.

Another round,
The deal passes to the left...

And THAT my friends,
Is why in Edgerton, Wisconsin,
Where they still have a Tobacco Days festival,
THIS poet will always be known to a certain crowd,
As "Lone-Hand Dan."


By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 05/03/2012

Author's note:
Entirely true story, Any resemblance to persons living or dead is blatantly intentional, and in their memory. It was uncanny, even to me.
(In fond memory of Steve Kessler, who rode off into the Sunset some twenty-three years ago. I hope your butt is living it up Up There, ya ol' coot.)
Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles. \\//_

All of my currently available poetry Chapbooks are for sale at:


Thursday, January 30, 2020

A Well-Watered Grave...

A Well-Watered Grave...

 Sometimes forgotten old things bubble to the surface of your particular pool of time,

Most especially in this era of recorded everything.

An old TV show from over a decade ago,

From my zombie workaholic era,

I missed it working the graveyard shift.

The ghost of its two-season run haunted us this past month,

A glimpse into a time capsule from 2003,

One that died a premature death,

Despite its utter brilliance and highly poetic sitcom patina.

Georgia Lass may have been obliterated by a flying toilet from the cosmos at 18,

But was a badass soul-reaper and heart-stealer,

A stand-in for those we've lost in every decade of the last century.

I watered her grave when she smiled back at her headstone,

All dark humor and love that outlasts everything.


By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 01/29/2020

Author's Note:

A binge-watch of the 2003 sitcom "Dead Like Me" will stick with me for a very, very long time. 

Thursday, November 28, 2019

Love Zone...

Love Zone... 

You're in my love zone,
This ain't a friend zone,
I believe in you,
Know this is true,
Baby you never have to be alone,
You're in my love zone,
More than just this song,
No matter how long.

(Not finished, pending additional writing)


By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/28/2019

Thursday, November 21, 2019



All this sound locked in my head,
A bottled-up devotion,
Right brain in chains,
A slave to the wallet,
Living in a capitalist dream.

My sax hasn't been out of the case,
Must be five years now,
I still remember the tast of a new fresh reed,
All starch and music,
Thank the universe for poetry,
My only right-brain escape from locked- in syndrome.

Left logic is always out on the town,
But the right side barely gets words.


By : Daniel A. Stafford
 © 11/20/2019