One day I will buy chocolate milk,
One day I will fly first class,
One day my shirts will be silk,
One day I’ll have a backstage pass.

I am accustomed to saying No
To things that would make me smile,
It’s not that I’m short on dough
But splurging just isn’t my style.

The waiter asks if I’d like a sundae,
Oh my, I couldn’t do that,
Perhaps I’ll have it one day
Because I don’t want to get fat.

This attitude long ago was learned
And strangely it has survived,
Trust me I’m deeply concerned
Why I am so often deprived.

I know I deserve the best,
And shouldn’t make life tougher,
I feel that I’m overly stressed,
And I don’t deserve to suffer.

Starting today I shall vow
To indulge my deepest desires,
To spoil myself I’ll learn how
Before my dull life expires.

Today is my birth day
I am newly born.
It was the most natural of births
But the labor dragged on
For thirty-nine years.

Today is a double celebration
I am toasting the death
Of my old self
And toasting the birth
Of me.
The real me.
The happy me.
The me who doesn’t feel the pain
Of abuse.
Who doesn’t feel the fear
Of ***.
Who doesn’t cower in shame
In the shadow of men
Who can’t love.

The funeral was quick
The burial was quicker
There will be no headstone
To commemorate that life
It’s dead and gone,
And I pray there are no scars
On my infant skin.

I don’t pretend that I will love again.
I don’t need that crazy ****
Living free and clear
Of ancient and ruins
Is enough for me.
I will not suckle on a ***
Ever again.
From this day on
Every step is a joy
It is my journey
And only mine.
Today I take baby steps
Tomorrow I walk
And soon I run
Putting endless miles
Between me and that
Cold unmarked grave.

I went to the Cordon Bleu
And my name is Pierre
I work in the kitchen
I’m a French chef extraordinaire

With fine French food
My name is synonymous
But I am an addict
I attend McDonalds Anonymous

When I make a quiche
I just want to hug it
But I keep getting cravings
For a Chicken McNugget

Fast food or French food
I am conflicted
Fast food or French food
Yes I am addicted

The 12-step program
Keeps me on track
I have to fight my desire
To binge on Big Mac

I pretend I’m a food snob
My life’s full of lies
When I buy burgers
I must wear a disguise

I should come out of the closet
Admit my transgressions
Then they would accept me
For my fast food obsessions

Maybe the other chefs
Would heap me with praise
If I smothered my Big Macs
With Sauce Hollandaise

There she is
reflected in this tiny droplet,
I see her laughter her pain
Her struggles and joy
Crisp and flawless like her love.

I am in there as well
The dreams dashed
The dreams unfulfilled
The future waiting to unfurl.
A teardrop is a marvelous thing
Like a bird’s eye
The future and the past
In clear view
Nothing obscured
Nothing hidden to protect the innocent
Or the sensitive
Or those trying to forget.

Sharply I see her good
Embracing her imperfections.
What is the formula one employs
To solve the mystery of love?
My rational mind is left wanting
Wavering and vacillating between
Apples and oranges
But in this teardrop
All is made clear
The fog and fissures
Are wiped clean and caulked,
Respectively.
The world I need and the world
My heart desires
Reflects with blinding light
With precise clarity.
From this crystal half dome
My blurred doubts are brought
Into focus
My entire world resides there
In that one tear of joy.

It’s becoming clear
Old fashioned romance is dead
I want an LTR
But they want to hook-up instead.

I want long term dating
Not short-term flings,
I want tight and secure
Not something no-strings.

At my age I never considered
Meeting someone for a hook-up
This is a crazy situation
I just couldn’t cook up.

This casual dating I find
Is just making me frantic,
Somehow it doesn’t jive
With an old-school romantic.

For a writer
It’s like committing libel
To a true believer
Like speed-reading the Bible.

Now I sit here wondering
Should I accept the latest fashion,
And let them satisfy
Their hot-blooded passion?

I didn’t know that I was lost,
But I knew when I was found.
Those heavy chains on my heart
I was no longer bound

The sun is suddenly brighter
The coffee I swear is sweeter
I’d still be in a fog
If I didn’t meet her.

I pinch myself daily
Thankful for the pleasure
I feel like Blackbeard
Finding a buried treasure.

We all have a personal prison
Some soar to the sky
With smooth high walls
Try as we may,
Will never be breached.
Others have no walls
The view goes on forever
Happy in our confinement
Letting the world come visit.
There are jails of the mind
A noose strangling and constricting
The flow of blood, oxygen.
Stagnant, rigid in our status quo.
A parole never comes.
I have seen a penitentiary
Of flesh and bones.
The body can imprison
Leaving no escape.
A key hidden away years ago
The hiding place long forgotten.
We choose our prison
Decorate our cell
Complain or not,
Always marking the passing days
On the wall of our soul.