“May ******* everything”
is something I sometimes feel
But, I can’t let the poison
take from my heart
the good that the bad wants to steal

A girl named Camille
lives alone on a hill
in a big, empty house
that only silence can fill
And when someone rides by
they might hear a faint cry
from a frown that is sobbing
on her room’s window sill

These powerful men
Who call themselves men!
Are nothing more
Than a deceitful blend
Of cowardice and hate
And then it’s too late
For us to discover
What they are in the end

First an irritation
and some pressure in my chest
A wave of lava rises
and I'm surfing at it's crest
"Tell'em I'm coming
and Hell's coming with me!"
As I threaten to erupt
and what I thought would fill an ocean
only fills a cup!

Blessed are the butterflies
that brighten ugly walls
They bring a little sunshine
to where there’s none at all
The flutter of their spacious wings
chase the clouds away
that prey upon the innocence
of an unsuspecting day

May I rest against a tree
To part from this tired world
And like Fall leaves
That once set free
Fly like wings unfurled

May it be an Autumn wind
Warmed by the breath of God
That brings my soul home again
As they bury me ‘neath the sod

Every day
has it’s due
and usually spent
with no clue
That from childhood
to married
then finally buried
So many these days
and yet so few

As I sit in the backyard
and savor the serenity
of the sun setting over a tree
I truly know
this moment of tranquility
is but a whistle stop for me

What in God’s name
has this sorry world done?
When the looks of such misery
are on faces so young
When the agents of darkness
walk around in the sun
When no one will say it
but the evil has won
What has the world come to?
What has it done?

Sitting in the padded cell
his mind hanging by a thread
Foam-filled mitts taped around his hands
so he cannot harm his head
Reliving the early lessons
of his father's wrath
Beaten by the very spoons
used to teach him math
If the answer was incorrect
his father screamed "You're wrong!'
then rapped the poor kid's noggin
like a Chinese gong

As the rose-colored spatter
ran across the wall
This genius in budding
felt no remorse at all
Possessed by a craving
for a special shade of red
to complete the special masterpiece
that had always been in his head
He dipped his brush into some blood
that had spilled upon the floor
His masterpiece might have to wait
The police are at the door

Painted at the speed of light
to capture their fleeting splendor
Throwing caution to the wind
and feelings found so tender
A symphony of blue and yellow
in the Mediterranean sun
A dozen golden flowers
Immortal every one

As the sun slowly rises
between the greening hills
a silent stream meanders past
and an old abandoned mill

A farmer’s mare is straying
along a country lane
a noisy crow disturbs the peace
atop a weather vane

Behind the thinning morning mist
cows can safely graze
as I watch I reminisce
a life of simpler days

Yearning like a dense forest of trees
that stretch toward the sun
we huddle together in pews
desperate in our hope
that we too can reach the light
that will save us from the darkness

Obosobo
of long ago
was the spirit of the night
It's dark and ugly nature
robbed the world
of all it's light
Trapped beneath
the horizon's floor
the sun then heard a mighty roar
The earth cried out with all it's tendered might
"I cast you out
Obosobo
I've had enough
You have to go
But, if you truly
want to stay
you may give me rest
between each day"

If the recipe for a happier life
demands a better attitude
then we need as determined chefs
to serve more dishes of gratitude

I’d like to see
the tree full of ribbons
to let me know
I can come home
Before I arrive
at my father’s doorstep
I’ll brush off my shoes
and spit in my comb

As we awaken
and rise for the day
we prepare to go
our separate ways
This morning I feel
the need to say
you are my dearest
and I’ll miss you today

To live only for those moments
greased with cake and champagne
is to miss all the precious time in between

Painting the air
With what we say
Creates the art
Of every day

Every summer about July or August
I imagine a cold, steady rain
on a winter’s night
The watery glare of a corner street light
gives the appearance
of an impressionist painting
The cold pavement of the street
shines as if drying from a coat of varnish
I yearn for the sight of steam
rising from my breath
A hat on my head
and my coat collar up around my ears
Uncomfortable enough to require a brisk pace
to warm the slight chill in my bones

There are those
who don’t dread death
or fear what could be
their last breath
Cherish moments
that befriend the present
Live like kings
and not like peasants

The sin that lives
in the self-righteous judgement of others
is but a stone’s throw away

The benefit of occupation
and the company of peers
or solitary confinement
in a house of mirrors

From a humidor
for gods long vanquished
Wisps of smoke
drifting high in the sky
Lest we forget them

Adults are but older children
Who have outgrown their parents
In search of better supervision

What makes a man
Into a Genghis Khan
And regress into his terrible twos?
It’s not enough
That he should win
Everyone else must lose

There are many
poets it seems
that tell the story
of shattered dreams
We have to listen
to what they say
because the pain
won't go away

There’s a part of myself
That nervously watches
As I stare into space
Slowly banging a drum

And just like a ******
I batton down hatches
To prepare for the storm
That’s so unlikely to come

The irony is
that the fear of death
gives rise to the fear of living
Meeting uncertainty
with an unshakable faith
is the gift that keeps on giving

Tightly bound to folly are we
In as many ways
as there are human fears and desires
And sooner or later
all we want in this world
is to be free

In a white room
on a white wall
there hangs a still-life of flowers
Although it seems
all but a dream
it's message of peace
has great power

When that big dark cloud
floats above your head
standing like a vulture
over unclaimed dead
When it casts it's long shadow
And troubles your sky
Insist that it move
to let the sun by

Where my world
meets their world
I caught a glimpse today
A precious scene
of does and fawns
and the fawns had come to play
Behind my kitchen window
I dared not make a sound
But then, I think they noticed me
and were gone in leaps and bounds

Yesterday’s regret
And the dread of tomorrow
Have played their parts well
In this rendition of sorrow

Curse this hat upon my head
For it can’t keep the sun at bay
It won’t shield my eyes
From all the bugs that fly
And so many come my way
**** all the goo in my hands
I think that I would understand
If the boss man could not stand
My act for another day

It feels I've been awake since forever
Lying here bartering for my share of some sleep
I don't know when
I'll be dreaming again
or how many the Sandman
will take of my sheep

Waking up to greet the day
in hopes the blues
have moved away
And if they're gone
then who's to say
that it ain't no more than Heaven
If he can't feel
the other shoe drop
or the world come to a stop
he won't have to cry
and get a mop
to clean up tears in Heaven
Heaven
No more than Heaven
Life's as good as only one believes
But, for what's it's worth
he thinks that while on earth
it's difficult to get the blues to leave

So many rain clouds
One for each parade
Marching down
the streets of town
where smiles are unmade

As I stand in the nourishing light
of midday
I drink in the sun
and bask in it’s warmth
with gratitude

I was told
that we weren't meant
to live in fear
of dying
We evaporate
into the wind
like water from sheets
that are drying
We float on clouds
in bleached-white gowns
waving to our former towns
Going where we won't wear frowns
or ever feel like
crying

Sometimes I feel like an idiot
In search of a village
and can’t get offered the job

Beware of the employment of hate
For there is no target
unworthy of it's attention
and it abides by no rules
of common decency or sense

On the wings of seagulls
rides the ocean air he breathes
He shuts his eyes
and in his mind
he's once again
at sea

Fear stares at an open grave
And yearns for home

There was a time
When he dwelled
In the spacious house
That was once her heart
And now there is not
One small room left
For him to occupy

Better dead
than disillusioned
wishing so desperately
for light to get in
Forever cursing
the comfort of darkness
Dare speak the devil
who is tired of sin

Color my mood
A melancholy blue
The bill for it’s absence
Is now again due
May the power of its pain
Produce enough rain
To wash me so cleanly
Of it’s signature hue

Cry in the rain
And the world cries with you

He loves the girl
Dancing in the silhouette
He wants to be with her alone
Though they've never met

The outline of her shapely thighs
Casting spells and telling lies
He wants to talk to her
But, he's so shy
He tries to make a move
But, he's so petrified

He loves the girl
In the sihouette
Strangers in the night
Who have never met