Checking on my progress, I’m halfway home
Still enough pages to let my mind roam
I can bounce around, the subject won’t matter
Read between the lines, I’m as mad as a hatter
Oh well, this one will take up another page
I’m taking a break from my regular rage

I’ve got a new pad, 50 pages
That’s a lot of room for my rages
Enough space to spill my soul
Getting to the cardboard, that’s my goal
It might take me a while
I’ll have to laugh, cry and smile
When I finally get to the end
The cardboard will be my friend

Sometimes my muse only sees the dark, he fills my pen with pain
Makes me write sad little lines, and makes tears fall like rain
He’s only trying to spill my heart, so I get poetic relief
He makes me think these things, but it doesn’t change my belief
I believe that I know myself, there’s no one else to blame
I keep writing with my muse, we play a poetic game

dreamy breeze
to make you fall asleep
like a bird in its nest,
I’ll hold all the
summer rains in my
arms
just for you
I’ll carry all
summer rains, I will
carry them in
my
arms,
like a heart on fire

I’m crazy, going out of my mind
Torn between what lies ahead
And what lies behind
Years and years, what do they mean
Lights and shadows is what I’ve seen
Crazy that’s how I feel
Out of my mind to keep it real
Yesterdays before tomorrow
Today is only time I’ve borrowed




2/12/21

Falling asleep is no lie
the mind takes a jogg
It don't care about the clock
Dreaming ain't no lie

On the white screen dance the stringed dots
Mind spilled codes of hieroglyphic thoughts
Slowly they emerge handholding lines
Not always yielding intended designs.
Something was brewing inside the head
Coaxing to weave and take it ahead
The drunken horses so wildly gallop
There is no leash to make them stop.
Nerves are taut and they won't relax
Till all is vented they reach the ******
It was thus fated the moment it was sown
What's to be grown could never be known.
As the fever wanes arrives the new child
It may be adored or it may be defiled
The canvas is washed clean as in the rain
Something is brewing to be vented again.

Three blind men touched an elephant one day,
Each judged the animal in their own way.
One felt the leg and boldly cried,
“A rough, strong tree trunk, broad and wide!”

Another touched the tusk and cried,
“So smooth and sharp from every side!”
The third held the tail and gave a sigh,
“It’s thin and hairy, like rope swinging by.”

All three were right, yet all were blind,
None saw the whole with an open mind.
They argued loud, in anger and might...
Each defending only their slice of sight.

Isn’t it just like the world today?
Where people fight over what they pray?
Different names, but lessons the same,
Still we battle, Come on it's 2025!!
What a shame!!