I’m in a cynical mood
Time to write something rude
I don’t care what you think
It doesn’t matter, I won’t blink
For all of you who think you know it
Maybe it’s time for the cynical poet

I drink; therefore I write
I write, therefore I am

Words that can’t be spoken
Must be read with an open heart

My heart bleeds words
I am a poet at heart

My pen writes the truth
The truth comes with pain

The thousands of words I’ve written
Are only tears on the page

A hopeless romantic
Makes a good poet

Love is a teacher
I have failing grades

Only death is permanent
Life is just a temporary dream

Love is a fleeting sunset
I live for the night

Dreams are for the dreamers
Reality is for the wicked

Time is for everyone
No one has the time

I am a heartbeat
Skip to my Lou my darling

The past is a place to stay
The future has no vacancies

The winners take the prize
Second place is the first losers

We are all crazy here
It’s not a contest

In my mind I’m a hero
Time loves a hero

A lost soul is a disguise
Only a fool turns and runs

Life waits for no one
I’m already too far behind

If I only had a moment
I could tell you my heart

Tomorrow only brings today
Yesterdays are long gone

Darkness balances the light
Sorrow weighs the heart

Youth is a fleeting dream
Old age is hell

Mysteries are to wonder
Nature is to wander

I can only speak for me
A speech is for everyone

Sentimental values tax the heart
Letting go is the price

I can only write what I feel
Poetry shows my soul to all

I thank my muse
For making me write





I thank my fellow poets for being there. I know you pour out your hearts and bare your souls. I feel your pain and I respect your words.

With passion and heart; **

Grandpa said watch out for that she devil
He said you go on out there and be a rebel
Here I am, straight shooting son of a six gun
A halfcocked momma and a six-shooting daddy
I was shot in the back seat of a ’56 Caddy

Later in life I learned how to drive
I learned how it felt to be alive
I partied on like a restless soul
Can’t replace the time I stole

Now I’m older, I guess Grandpa was right
You’ll be married Sunday, if you find love Saturday night
Who’s to blame when it’s all said and done
Grandpa said those she devils sure can be fun

When we were young we loved so much
The plans we made and the time we lost
Together we learned to face our fears
It was just another time of years

We lived, we loved and we tried so hard
We watched our children grow
We made our place and we cried our tears
It was just another time of years

Now it’s time we are looking back
We both know where we’ve been
We stood strong beside all our piers
It’s just another time of years

We were flying like Hell down a one-track line
Pressing our luck and holding back time
Like a naked freight train running all downhill
We rode with our Hearts that we couldn’t keep still
Uncle Charlie said don’t worry son, I’ve got your back
There ain’t but one train from Hell and its right on track
He gave me a wink and let that whistle blow
He said when we get there we’ll be on the go
We roared and we rumbled on a dead man’s run
I was so scared of it all I was having fun
All through the night we rolled, and we rolled
Hoping to God that those rails would hold
I said Uncle Charlie you’re quite the engineer
You make it look easy, you don’t even steer
He smiled and said you just follow the tracks
And read the burn from those old smokestacks
You shovel the coal like you’re feeding Hell’s fire
You follow your dreams with passion, heart and desire

Finally some cardboard, where I feel at home
I can write the words I’m proud to own
The other pages, they were OK I guess
A few good rhymes arranged in a mess
I like the cardboard, it treats me so well
It’s the last of the stories I tried to tell
My new pad is clean, it’s going to be great
As for the cardboard, I’ll just have to wait

What kind of man does what men do
Cheat and steal, then lie to me and you
What kind of man starts a war with his pen
Knowing it will cause the death of many men

What kind of man can change the world we’re in
What kind of man can change other men
Where is the man that can lead us to love
Where are the men guided from above

What man has done for his fellow man
That only true men will do what they can
What kind of man stands tall against men
What kind of man can save us from sin

I’ve got 1200 poems, all shapes and sizes
Some in verse, others in reprises
I mostly rhyme, 99 percent of the time
I beat up the world and then I whine
A poet’s lament, I ***** about this and that
I post some online, try to start a chat
Sometimes I write them just for fun
Proud of myself when I finish another one
I’m all in, heart, soul and mind
Writing down every word I can find
I try not to go too far, I don’t know when to stop
I just keep going until my pen says drop

My whiskey bottle is crying, it’s empty for the night
Guess I’ll just sleep it off until the morning light
Tomorrow will be better, my bottle will be full
I can take the cap off and have another full pull
My whiskey keeps me sober; it helps to hide the pain
It holds back the sorrows that seem to pour like rain
Now it’s the afternoon and my bottle’s working fine
I feel better as the whiskey clouds my mind
My whiskey bottle is sleeping, dreaming of tomorrow
Thinking about drowning all that pain and sorrow
Wash away the troubles; rinse away the blues
Soaking down the problems that always come in two’s
Now I’ve got my cap off; tilted with the bubbles running free
Keep them going; keep it flowing, till I can’t see

You’re wrestling the devil, fighting to be “the man”
When you wrestle the devil, its catch-as-catch can
It’s no holds barred, anything goes, a regular street fight
The world is watching the main event on Saturday night
It’s a death match; the winner takes it all
The match is scheduled for TV time, or one fall

The devil is tricky, he’s got friends outside the ring
Whips, chains, tables and chairs, that’s what they bring
Sorrows got you in the corner, headlock squeezing tight
Best do something quick, even if you have to bite
Pains have got you down, in the center of the mat
He’s got you trapped, like a big city rat
You need to break free, get out of his hold
If you don’t, you’ll be stuck, like the cheese and the mold
You’ve got to keep moving, you better have a plan
When you wrestle the devil, its catch-as-catch can

The crowd is roaring; it’s time to bust out your moves
Careful now, watch him Jim, look out for those hooves
You got him on the ropes, with help from some fan
When you wrestle the devil, it’s catch-as-catch can

Now it’s time the show is over, they called it a draw
He would have had you, except for that one little flaw
He didn’t know you had faith and truth on your side
When he came up against that, all his threats died
You wrestled the devil, now he knows you’re “the man”
When you wrestle the devil, its catch-as-catch can

I like to write in the graveyard, I know people there
It’s nice and quiet, city sounds fill the air
A peaceful feeling comes over my mind
All of the memories my heart can find
I don’t see any ghost walking, I only hear voices
Some trying to say make better choices

I like writing in front of my grandfather’s stone
He makes me feel like I’m not alone
I look up, I see more stones of granite
All those names and dates, with no faces
Their memories are there, just in different places
When I finish and it’s time to leave
I’ll dry my eyes, stand quietly and grieve