War screams at us
Don't pay attention
Would you not rather
Basket weave a yarn doll
for the child who still dreams

And poverty whispers
if it's not you
why suffer
reason to me your empathy
while the mockingbird sings

Illness
limp and listless
has a coat
it's out the door
no reason to think anymore

loneliness drones on and on
as cold and brisk
as winter's dawn
my whiskey's warm, I'm still forlorn
What is there to live for

At some point
Between birth and now
I became
The primary architect
Of my life
Shaping the scope
Of my reality
Out of clay
And illusion

 it was firstly
My parents
Good natured
In the rudimental senses of
Love and hope,
Connection
I'd suppose they did
A fair job
With their interpretation
Of practiced methods
And results
Providing me with the ability
To assume my mantle
As chief captain
Of my growth
And direction

When the position
Changed hands is
Inconsequential
The only thing of import
Is that now I
Must master my own Sense of
Realistic satisfaction
To become happier
With less and less
While desiring
More and more

Such is the nature
Of my occupation
That I shall never be rid of it
I'll carry my torch
Into the night
Illuminating the darkness
Searching for
The shadows of discovery.

I will carve from marble
This monument so long
In the making
And recognize my success
Even if I
Am the only one
To marvel at it.

Who thought of
The seesaw
Up and down and
Laughter
A sweet and easy millionaire
I think of back and forth
And laughter
They tell me we've got swings already
I'll keep thinking

I keep the rhythm
Of the city
On this bar stool
Who's up for sharing with the crowd
Their drunk thoughts
Not me I tell them
Can't be monetized

My heart ain't so rough
But if I keep her
Thinking I'm callous
I can surprise her
With a little gentle
Romance
Let's watch this misty
Sunrise,
In silence

A true writer
Makes their art
For money
Being noteworthy is just
Coincidental
We gotta live
And eat
But maybe creating
The seesaw was
Purehearted
And The money was only
Coincidental