Can there be any greater gift
than the lesson of how to be happy
Too many students
not enough teachers

Maybe in accepting
the pain in ourselves
we might see all
that it is offering
and maybe the resistance
not the pain itself
is causing most
of the suffering

Fear stares at an open grave
And yearns for home

In search of one hour
in a world of hurry
to the crawl of time
plagued with medieval worry

This too shall pass

We are but the dingy bubbles
born on the ***** river
oblivious to
it's tired and straining liver

Marriage is an emulsion
Of love and truth
Not a solution

Many an unfinished project
began with the impractical
pursuit of perfection

There’s more to you
than your problems
There is more to life than fun
Most of us have much to learn
so, you aren’t the only one

There is no place in which to flee
There is no place to hide
Running is no solution
The ones who know have tried

There are no easy answers
to questions no one asks
But, if you can find
who you really are
you can toss that heavy mask

Love is that random act of kindness
that we think we don’t have the time for

It is what it is
But, that is all that it is
Otherwise, it’s drama

Every thought uneasy
Every step a stumble
If the stomach were only queasy
waiting for the world to crumble
Few are those
who never walk the path of uncertainty

You and I
are not such bad actors
But, we have had
bad roles

Hope springs eternal
in the fertile ground of imagination

Tomorrows
always come and go
But, the thought of them
Sometimes, scare me so
They can rock my world
even though
they always melt into
harmless yesterdays

Heavier is the heart
that has aged from the weight of history

Men of a martyr
Live on the outer
Like disciples of Christ
Who are so enticed
To follow a message
To live like they oughta

Be not a martyr
with emotional pain
And do not barter
You’ll only suffer it’s gain
It thinks that it’s use
is to hang from a noose
bleed on the soul
to leave a stubborn stain

Miserable are those
whose weight of themselves
has become so heavy
as to care so little about others

It is easier
to be ourselves
acting as someone else

That which is
clearly smothering us
is strangely
what we can’t live without

As it was
in the beginning
So, it is now
You can’t know
happiness
Unless, you learn how
to shed the last tear of the just
and forever hold your peace

Whisper what you want of me
How much longer can I wait?
My hearing really is quite good
though I don’t always see too straight
I sit beneath a starry night
listening for a sign
But alas
more hours pass
that seem like a waste of time
Whisper what you want of me
I grow tired of the wait
I want to know the secret
before it is too late
What is it that you want of me?
Maybe I can’t see
if I’m asking you above
or if I’m asking me

I haven’t the wisdom
to soothe the grieving
nor comforting words
worth believing
But, I can cry
for a broken heart
and I can pray
for it’s broken parts
to find a way to come together again

Can’t seem to read
between the lines
Can’t seem to see
the shades of gray
The adults in the room
have much work to do
if the children
are to remain at play

To be without love
is to feel but a sliver
of the world’s pain
and nearly
perish from it

In the absence of gratitude
self-Pity is there
to fashion yet another
cross to bear

It answers not in laughter
It answers not in tears
It answers not my questions
this world that cannot hear

Time is the great conqueror
and we must bend hard to it’s will
For it is a powerful tyrant
and cares not for our petty notions
of immortality

As I sit in the backyard
and savor the serenity
of the sun setting over a tree
I truly know
this moment of tranquility
is but a whistle stop for me

It’s the nature of our nature
to be inflexibly unchanging
in view of a landscape
that is constantly rearranging
We can adapt and thrive
or we can barely survive
But, it’s the nature of our nature
to resist much that is changing

Adults are but older children
Who have outgrown their parents
In search of better supervision

The appetite of time
is insatiable
It devours all
that was once mighty
and leaves
nothing but
the odor of decay

Ah, to feel the stir of passion
And then be burned by it
Better than enduring
the slow suffocation of apathy

Comedy can mock tragedy
As long the lion stays in it’s cage

Why can’t my soul
quiet my mind?
They don’t seem
to be on the same page
One is in a place
I can’t seem to get to
the other
in a world of rage

Some days are like a dog
that won’t quit barking
An alarm that goes off
to stay on all day
until the sun sets
and the moon rises
Even then, there can only be
a temporary cease-fire with the
agreement that it all may begin again at first light

The longer we live
the less we know
and the more
everything
becomes our teacher

I’d rather
the consequences
of 6 days in sin
than suffer the hypocrisy
of repentance on Sunday

Anxiety is the dizzyness
of freedom
and is what I thought
Kierkegaard said
It appears there are many
who would rather no choice
than uncertainty
squirm in their heads

When you can’t make
the perfect biscuit
When you can’t have
the perfect life
Just say “yes”
to this perfect moment
to see the fiction
in your strife

Everyone else is taken
So, you may as well be yourself
Rejoice in who you really are
and leave the mask up on the shelf

Care not
what you ought
and what you were taught
or your life
may be void
of any original thought

Wise man say: “There are too many ways to look the fool without
arguing with one.”

My we revel in the here and now
releasing ourselves from tomorrow
Time ill spent can’t be returned
and we don’t know how much has been borrowed

Every second
of every minute
of every hour saved
is then sacrificed
to the gods of technology
It is an evolution of sorts
where people are beginning
to merge with machines
Humans of an earlier time
will eventually become known as “the ancient ones”
and will stand on rungs closer
to the Neanderthal than to cyborgs

I err,
therefore I am

How empty the heart
that cannot love itself
For it cannot give
what it does not possess
and the world suffers

War is best served by youth
For it has not yet
Had the time
To perish the thought of dying

Beware of the employment of hate
For there is no target
unworthy of it's attention
and it abides by no rules
of common decency or sense

One can spend a lifetime
scaling down expectations
to fit in the same space
with one’s limitations

These powerful men
Who call themselves men!
Are nothing more
Than a deceitful blend
Of cowardice and hate
And then it’s too late
For us to discover
What they are in the end