Ghost Ranger  

 The Ghost Ranger Show is a work in progress. The first show is still a short ways off, so this is a basic introduction to what I hope to do with the show.
  I have done a lot of traveling around the world and lived in many places both overseas and state-side and as a result I have some unusual viewpoints. I am an enigma to many who know me. I am a veteran but still and forever I will be a soldier. I recognize my many sides and can relate to Kristofferson's song Chapter 33. On some days I am an introverted extrovert and on others an extroverted introvert. I am both right and left brained. BTR wants me to tell you in advance what a show is about and I can honestly say for me that will normally be impossible. It depends on what has my attention at the time. I have ideas for solutions and I welcome input in order to fine tune them. Opposing viewpoints are welcome until disagreements become personal attacks or abuse then I ... let's just hope you never have to find out. Here are two of my poems that give some insight into me.  Drop by once I am up and running to listen, or to chat or simply to offer your insights.

WAKING
 

I sit up suddenly in a blackened room
The cloying smell of decaying mud
the heavy humid air, still like a tomb
on my tongue the coppery taste of blood

My clothes-sopping wet from cold sweat
I look trying to see through the black
trying to locate the nature of the threat
my muscles coiled and ready to attack

I examine the room as my eyes adjust
I see the familiar surroundings of home
and the past horrors that I’d witnessed
Bursting forth from memory’s catacomb

My heart still wildly racing from the fear
It’s beating sounds like a mortar barrage
No threat is present I sense it’s all clear
But still wishing I had better camouflage

 Images of the past, still vivid and alive
Memories of so many people now dead
Trip wires I’d installed so I’d survive
Triggering the booby traps in my head

A COWBOY MORNING

The milling cattle softly lowing
The Sun peeking over the Eastern sky
Aroma of camp coffee boiling
A lone majestic eagle soaring high

Dew hanging like diamonds on the sage
Visible breaths evidence of being
Memories of a much simpler age
Thankful to witness a new day dawning