I was asked the question
“who do I read”
well, there's nobody special
that's not what I need

am I here to seek pointers
no, not at all
the way that I write
it's not been my call

I simply write down
the words that I'm given
then share them with others
you know, the folks who be livin'

so correct if you must
that's if it makes you feel better
punctuation and spelling
right down to the letter

but I won't be changin'
anytime soon
so I hope you don't mind
I'll keep singin' my tune

many today
have begun to squirm
acting as
the lowly worm
as their secrets
begin to unfold
as finally at last
the truth is told
into the ground
hiding their faces
no longer visiting
their common places
ashamed of themselves
for what they have done
by pretending their actions
affect only one
their selfishness
has finally caught up
and what they are left with
is an empty cup

should I change me
to become thee
hell no I say
why can't you see
no two are the same
in life, this game
and if you want that to be
your understanding is lame
we must remain snowflakes
different each one
without that variety
we eliminate fun

so don't worry about style
let me be who I am
I'm not looking for change
only to become one more sham

becoming another
putting me on the shelf
all it would take
is to lie to myself
but that's not what I want
that's one thing I won't do
I must live with myself
before I please you

I once was rude
but then I learned
I got nowhere
with bridges burned

retracing steps
could not be done
the points I made
had reached no one

my intent was right
to help another
but I'd forgotten
each man my brother

to show respect
with all my words
not slay a spirit
as if with swords

to rebuild a bridge
to regain a trust
one thing I've learned
respect is a must

The weak fall
their spirits quenched
words as swords impale their hearts
they roast over smoldering coals
left behind by the unkind

Devoured by their discouragement
they are chewed up and spit out
by a world that simply
just doesn't care

My search for Philadelphia
has found it's populous
has moved away
the city of brotherly love
has fallen

There's a problem that painters
and poets both have
living life full of feelings
requiring they have a strong salve

for their critics abound
claiming that they know all
providing discouragement
and causing a spirit to fall

these painters and poets
they bring us their art
there's no one way to see it
though an open mind is a start

we must learn to observe
finding what's there for us
instead of going off half cocked
and causing a fuss

a critique is opinion
we're all entitled to one
but to critique to be mean
ruins everyone's fun

If I could just have my say
and live my whole life my way
you'd find me filling out my day
with a greater amount of fun and play

But society says that I must work
I look at them, begin to smirk
then realize if I want the perk
I must work or go berserk

I tell the mirror
I don't want to go
my anger builds
begins to show

I make the deal
for this one day
I'm so depressed
I cannot play

I've given up
I accept my fate
I'll go to work
but I'll be late