How tragic the man
who thinks the world’s
at his feet
then that Persian rug
pulled from beneath him
He is set at sea
part of the fleet
befriending the rest
of the jetsam

How can smiles
melt our hardened hearts
yet, we have these terrible wars
fueled by hate across the globe
that oozes from our pores?

Say goodbye
to the days of summer
as we ponder Autumn’s waking
It’s warm memories
fall from the trees
forgotten until Spring’s remaking

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

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

Those who see the flaws in flowers
may marvel at their gift of sight
But, they stumble
in a world of darkness
Victims of too much light

And while the puppeteer sleeps
How divine the dream
that frees the marionette to dance

I can see the world
through a murky lens
clouded by storms
of my making
And if I am cursing
that which I can’t see
then, it’s only myself
I’m forsaking

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

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

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

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

Nothing like heavy suffering
to appreciate the lighter weight
of it’s absence

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

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

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

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

Marriage is an emulsion
Of love and truth
Not a solution

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

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

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

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

The world cares not
how much of it's weight
you are willing to carry

Music is a language
spoken by so few
yet, inspires so many
To be not deaf
and not hear it
would be a cruel twist
of irony

Oh sometimes
how the grateful mistake
scratches the itch
of self-loathing

Wise man say
the worth of a day
and the serene of between
it's highs and lows
lies not in what one does
for oneself
but, lies in what one
does for others

Pain makes
narcissists of us all
Only Jesus

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

Hope springs eternal
in the fertile ground of imagination

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

To be yourself
or not to be yourself
That is the question

Painting the air
With what we say
Creates the art
Of every day

It's easy for me
to love folly in a child
with a heart so pure, innocent,
and wild

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

Wise man say that if one is tired of
gaining weight at mere glance of food, one need only wear blindfold to dinner table

As my head of hair keeps graying
and I feel my edges fraying
Sometimes the thought
that comforts me
is the humble act of praying

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

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

Truth is truth
until proven rotten
Lies are lies
But seem never forgotten

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

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

Assuming that mere words
could be something other than
feeble expressions of the truth
we call a person honest
at the sheer surprise
that he does not lie

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is said there’s a woman,
For every man,
But it's not written in stone,
Only written in sand

Men who really don’t want peace
want only a respite from war
Adrift on high seas
and without the disease
are those who won’t come ashore