Life keeps flooding in
Take a deep breath
Does not feel like the first,
Days it feels it will be the last
Watch a butterfly, smell the roses, kiss the ashes
Throw em to the wind
Whats the next current?

Odds still seem to be the odds
Unfolding it plays
Sometimes like a scratched album
Kringled tape in a cassette or like an 8 track,
Skipping like a cd
Though it still pumps bass
Dreams seem to be a kick in the ass

Round the bend
Behind the mask
Life keeps flooding in
Take a deep breath
Does not feel like the first
Days it feels it will be the last
Lilly’s cast unto the stems of orchids, fireflies crackle in the breeze, kiss the dirt
Throw it to the wind
Whats the next current?

So many times I have kissed my ass goodbye
By: Robert Vardell

WGN, Cubs and Grandpa

Do not watch much WGN news or listen to WGN radio. Today was rainy and gloomy so found myself indoors flipping from one show to the other I stopped on channel 9. They announced that WGN radio and Cubs were parting ways after 90 years. Towards the end of the news article they read twitter comments from viewers. Reading one from a lady that wrote how she was happy of the decision, because it would not interrupt her programs hearing the baseball game updates, I thought about someone. Appreciating their 90 years of 2 major entity’s in our history is not what made me open my mind. It was of someone that taught me so many things though that was not that came to thought. Not how we built a house boat together, how he taught me to level a trailer, use a hammer or boxing as he reminded me to keep my hands up. Though I understood what the lady meant in my own way. Seemed whenever I was with my grandpa, regardless if we were fishing, sitting in the kitchen or building that houseboat he had on the cubs game on WGN radio. Knew asking then the channel would not get changed, oh the torture. It was from the time I was 12 till my 20’s it felt as if someone was running a knitting needle through my ears. It was just boring and I was a teenager wanting to hear all the music you could shove into my brain. Led Zeppelin, Hank Williams JR, Iggy PoP, Ramones, Black Sabbath but instead my brain being lifted, it was drained with the Cubs loosing. After my grandpa passed away in my early twenty’s did not think much of it till my early thirty’s. The oldest son Justin and I were in the garage tinkering around and remember they were announcing the game. Rushing to the radio he began to rotate its dial changing the station. “Hold up boy” I shouted and then I told him to turn it back. Replying okay he turned it back with a puzzled look and I seen the disappointment in his eyes. Justin did not ask and I did not tell him why, though it was new for him to hear me listen to a baseball game. In years that has passed every once in awhile I stumbled onto a Cubs game on WGN radio listening. Not till today when I was sitting in front of the idiot box hearing WGN radio and the Cubs parting ways after 90 years, did I think of all the grand memories Grandpa and I had through my 23 years he was alive listening to the two.

Salmon Tacos

One salmon filet:

Seasoning: place salmon skin down in pan
Cajun seasoning
Taco seasoning ( sprinkle at least half the package dry )

In the oven
Cook with skin down at 350
Cook for 25 minutes ( directions usually on package )

Cole slaw:

Cole slaw mix 16 oz
Lime , cut and squeeze over the slaw
Balsamic vinegar 1 tablespoon
Olive oil 1 tablespoon
Garlic, Pepper, Chili pepper or red pepper ( your desired amount added )
Caribbean jerk marinade ( cover lightly and toss ) – ( found in salad dressings )

Corn tortillas
Diced onion

When Salmon is done. Scrap it from the skin and place in a bowl.
Season again
With the above ingredients as you stuck it in the oven.
Two good size limes, cut and squeeze them over the salmon.
Mix good as you shred the salmon with a fork or spoon in the bowl

Heat up your taco shell or tortilla
Place salmon inside
Cover with Cole slaw and add your desired amount of cilantro

Tall Grass

In the tall grass you stand
Hands slide around to pull closer
Lips kiss the crease of the neck
As your hair tumbles in the warm breeze
Thoughts roam to the scent that pulls one in as the other finds comfort in ones arms
Moments pass to innocent interaction, hands that hold tight in longing stares
In the tall grass you turn
Hands embrace the back firmly
Lips kiss
As your hair tumbles in the warm breeze
Clouds slumber as the sun beats through, eyes closed to reflect and
the tall grass becomes rock of what is not
Sweat drips from brow to hazy that becomes clear as you were not
In tall grass I stand

By Robert Vardell


Standing In the river of deliverance
Mud in cases and pulls
Arms in the air
Hear my screams echo through
Speak of yourself
Deliver yourself
Demons are torn unto broken shards
An image that is not cast beyond the mind
Blood runs through
Blood runs down
Mind tumbles on the current
Days weep of tears not seen
Transitional that travels on the winds
Direction does not change
Uncomfortable blankets the night
No creeping feeling
Just moments of no one
Stars are counted by thoughts
Left by ones heart to so many that have come
An escape that one avoids to drift in lost in the way of milky
Can you hear the whisper
Pointing of non-existence
In this I stand waiting

Last Thing I Wrote

In this rodeo of mine
I have been thrown for dead
Though stood spinning
With eyes drawn
in a world with no heart
to be lost in its tears

Though words linger
Wonder of how long its been
I will take it from here
I remember when
Those years traveled
Before now just images
that have been

In this rodeo of mine
I have ridden through bittersweet
rested pain between the sheets
Watched her in a sundress
With eyes drawn
in a world with no heart
to be lost in its tears

Though words linger
Ponder the moment
that I found myself here
With blood shot eyes
among open wounds
Steady I fall
As I gaze onto the plain
destination twisted by fate

That I have been thrown
Though the mind lingers
bittersweet words
In this rodeo of mine
That is the last thing I wrote
in a world with no heart
to be lost in its tears
By: Robert Vardell August / 24 / 2013

Words in The Palm

In my palm
Feel what I do not say
Stare at the lines that have been etched
In the mirror
Starring at a face that has met me
A man that has seen days of yesterday
A man if he was to look back nothing would be the same
The scars, tattoo’s and the lines that run through
Reminders to who I have grew
In my palm
Feel your heart beating as your cheek rest in torn flesh
Let me rest within your loins as fingers go through my hair
Settle the demons I have soared
In the mirror
Seeing you staring back at me
A man that has been fortunate
A man that has a future
No angel in disguise just a loving hand
What was my past?
All I can see now
As if I had not lived
Warmth beyond a coldness to a non ending journey
Now all I know is you from waking breath till my last
Close your eyes and feel me write
3 words in your palm

There is no dust in the soul

It knows the coldness
Unforgiving nature of a heart
A shell that moves across
Unlike the flightless
It remains to soar
Search a mystery that binds
Drifting to the clouds
Carried by
A tear that falls from the eye
Dreams pass with moments that are days
Trapping within the void
Drifting to the stars
Thoughts are held
As a prisoner in a cell
Carried by
A head that hangs
As the waltz is danced
In one’s mind to divine loneliness
Trapped within walls of non-existence
This seems to be a wait
To music that truly fits with another to lost keys
Dust Gathers

A Song

Haze within the day
Radio plays, mind is set to groove
Mind wonders, mind ponders, mind remembers
Like a summer day in a winter moment
Music plays as adrenaline pushes through the veins
Transcending me

The moon hangs
In a summer dress beneath you move
Toes dig in, arms reach and fingers lead
Hair slightly tumbles and sand is moved
Captivated to the movement
As a hunter watching its prey
You twist among the ocean spray

Though that was not all that
Moments flooded the brain
That was the last true
Humbled within a song
From excitement to tears
A song never sung
Sadness of gone
Gone to never return
Beneath the stars life turns

Some of us together
Most of us alone
Reason of one or another
Here I am tied to a song
A song of the past that haunts today’s and tomorrows
I try to stay on the dune
As I said moments flooded
Good and bad they flow to leave an empty
Pit in the stomach that aches the heart

Once again a tear rolls
Sadness of gone
To a song never sung
Though humbled to a song that plays
For someone that is gone to never return
I leave flowers on hollowed ground
By: Robert Vardell July / 18 / 2013

My Three Sons

Each one of them are different. 26. 24 and 15 are the ages of my sons. Reality you treat your kids different. Not because you favor one over the other. Cause each one of them are different. At 46 years of age my greatest accomplishments are my three sons. Although you treat them different due to their own individuality as a father you love them equally.  Past few years I have been a single father raising my 15 year old.  It has been truly different then raising my two oldest and my youngest in his pre-teen years when there was a mom around. As we all know life happens between couples, finances, grow apart, same interest become different, someone else catches the others interest. No matter of the hundred and some reason why parents or couples are not together its hard on the children regardless of their age. This post isn’t about explaining to your kids why Mommy and Daddy are not together any more and you will understand when you are our age. This post is about my three sons that have taught me as much as I have taught them. Its about them making me a better person through the years and the life they awaken my eyes to. Most of all the laughter, them boys have made me laugh, chuckle and smile more then anyone could in my life. Reaching this point of the post all I can think is if I could ask one thing of the universe is that my three sons could have as much laughter with their children.

By: Robert Vardell

Welcome and thank you for visiting

%d bloggers like this: