He sat alone looked blank and stared
Unaware that someone cared

I watched him look at people go by
Then a teardrop fell from his eye

I wondered then
What I should do
I was also a stranger he never knew

Didn't want to infringe upon his space
But he looked up and stared me in the face

I smiled at him
Kindness in my eyes
He then smiled back
To my surprise


I asked if he'd like to join me then
No longer a stranger
He's now my freind

An opportunity by chance
Arose just by a tender glance

Some Others

Some people stop, some people go,
others will hide, others will show.
Some people lead, some people follow,
others will spit, others will swallow.
Some people drink, some people smoke,
others will finger, others will stroke.
Some people listen, some people talk,
others will ring, others will knock.
Some people write, some people read,
others will cut, others will bleed.
Some people dumb, some people smart,
others will burp, others will ****.
Some people Facebook, some people Tweet,
others will lie, others will cheat.
Some people ****, some people chew,
others will glance, others will view.
Some people live, some people die,
others will laugh, others will cry.
Some people pitch, some people catch,
others will oppose, others will attach.
Some people want, some people give,
others will forget, others will forgive.
Some people right, some people wrong,
others will flaunt, others will belong.
Some people finished, some people done,
others will end, others will run.

If someone writes a novel,
You don't assume that it's a snapshot of their entire emotional self,
So why do people assume that of a poet's work?
I am not my most recent poem,
Or any of the others.
We are wordsmiths, weaving a linguistic labyrinth
And inside are hidden codes and meanings, layers upon layers.
We invite others to explore, without judgement or condemnation,
Though we welcome comment and interpretation.
And yes, sometimes we write exactly what we feel,
And sometimes we make that clear,
But if we don't, please don't assume.
Poems are not novels, but they can be fiction.
Words are never just words,
And all writing contains something of the writer,
But even for the ultimate narcissist, there are other sources of inspiration
And other subjects, than ourselves.

To All The Girls

To all the girls I've liked before,
I'm gonna be rich, while you stay poor.
None of you would go out with me,
because I was so **** ugly.
You said we could be friends,
you drive a Toyota, while I drive a Mercedes Benz.
To all the girls I've liked before,
I even got turned down by the town *****.
Girls would only use me for a ride,
they took my dignity and my pride.
Sometimes I would just roll the dice,
they always said, I was way to nice.
Now I'm here telling you,
to **** on my creamy goo.
To all the girls I've liked before,
go away, stop banging on my door.
Where were you, when I was young and alone,
out with someone with more muscle tone.
All these girls know who you are,
in my head you left a scar.
Well how do you like me now,
most of you on drugs and look like a cow.
To all the girls I've liked before,
years ago you used to ignore.
Now all of a sudden you all want me,
sorry ******* but my love ain't free.
I have found a girl that loves me a lot,
I do want to thank you for all you taught.

My grandfather was there
We were sat down at the kitchen table
He was telling my about my hands
Said that I had writers hands
Artists hands
Painters hands
Hands like Anne 
My grandfather was drinking 
He was always drinking
Anne was pacing around 
Angry at him
Angry at him for being drunk
Again
Angry at him for being an alcoholic 

My brother and grandfather in my room
We listen to music
My brother asks my grandfather why he's not with Anne anymore 
I don't remember the reply
I remember him saying that he still loved Anne 

The door bell rings 
Its late 
I'm supposed to be asleep 
Grandfather at the door
Im watching from the stairs 
He's talking to my father
Says he needs money quick
Asks for three hundred 
My father gives it to him no questions 
My grandfather leaves 

It's Christmas 
Grandfather shows up to everyone's surprise 
He's there with no presents 
I was just glad he was there
He told me he had a necklace for me
He just had to pick it up from a friend 
I knew better though
He fell asleep on the couch 
Im glad he was there 

Its bobbys funeral
My grandfather is there
He's unhappy 
He's tired 
I don't remember much of him that day

Im at the swimming pool with my friends 
Waiting for my dad to pick us up
My grandfather is there
I haven't seen him in a while
He's so skinny
I know he's still using
He doesnt recognize me

Family dinner 
Dinner is served late
As always 
Grandfather is there 
He's showing my friend some dance steps he learned
Mentions his new lady friend 
He seems happy

My family moves half way across the country 
Leaving Edmonton behind
The next time I hear news about my grandfather its from my father
He saw my grandfather at my great grandmothers funeral 
He's still using and it shows
He's skinny
He's lost teeth
He's sick 

But I'll always remember the time in the kitchen 
I'll always remember when he told me I had writers hands
Artists hands
Painters hands
Like Anne

( My daughter sleeps,
  And my heart sings her a song... )

There will never be another you.

I may meet a girl
  And make her my wife,
But no matter what
  You're the love of my life.
  
No matter where you go,
  You'll never be alone,
'Cause long as I live
  My heart is your home.

You are my happiness,
  Your laugh ignites me,
If my soul forgets,
  Your smile reminds me.

And no matter what you do,
I'll always be proud of you.

The song of my spirit,
The story in my heart,
Your birth was my beginning,
Your love was the start.

I will never leave you.
I will never let you go.

And when I am gone,
My heart will beat on
Inside of your soul,
Where love sings its song.