Gently the morning light
meets my sleepy eyes
It softly taps my shoulder
Like a mother’s plea to rise
The world it seems to be rather harsh
for it’s always asking when
I’ll get up to earn my way
back to bed again

It may be harsh
It may be cruel
To sit before
a bowl of gruel
But, please do not
complain of it
It could be worse
It could be sh—

Misty eyes are here
Missing all the cheer
The desperate stare
of cold despair
for reasons that aren’t clear
It’s supposed to be a time
of joy and peace of mind
But, if an answer lies
in those misty eyes
It’s just too hard to find
Misty eyes
Misty eyes
No matter how hard the tissue tries
It can't dry up
those misty eyes

Oh sometimes
how the grateful mistake
scratches the itch
of self-loathing

In the shadow of fear
May my strength of heart
Not let death’s foul breath
Keep me apart
From the hope of my passing
That I go unharmed
To the loving hospitality
Of God’s open arms

It is what it is
but all is as it should be
Be thankful your trouble
isn’t all that it could be

Your indecision
comes with the clue
that your head is telling
your heart what to do

Though bad times
can crawl like a tortoise
and good times
race like a hare
Indifference will always
run last in a race
when there’s no motive
or reason to care

May the sun
be the face of god
and all it’s light his robe
as he takes
a morning stroll
across this sleepy globe

The words from this
passing stranger
were like music to his ears
For the first time
in his difficult life
he felt calm amidst his fears
To be less consumed
by the weakness of flesh
meant connection to his soul
It was the filling
of his heart’s content
where there was once a gaping hole

I should like
to wear the shades
the tans and grays
of winter days

Quietly sit
in stone cold silence
to render calm
this inner violence

To molt the skin
of what I'm feeling
To know the floor
from the ceiling

Not begrudge
my heart's abiding
Learn to face
in me what's hiding

Hang your troubles
on the Tree of Sorrows
Look for ones
to steal or borrow
Then step around
the tree again
grateful
that another’s pain

is not your own

Valiant are those souls
who are willing to brave
the treacherous waters
of traumatic pasts
They sail with a wind of conviction tempered with caution
Worthy of an ancient mariner
it is an adventurous,
perilous voyage
yet full of hope that one day
their stormy seas will set them free

The rooms in this house
now sit in silence
They are but shrines
gathering the dust
of fond memories
Sometimes, when I walk past
their doors
I think I hear playing
But, then, I step in to the crushing
disappointment of quiet, empty space
They have left us alone
Dazed and confused
with no inkling of what to do next
And the heartache
Did I mention the heartache?

If one could receive a penny
for every moment spent
in self-indulgent worry
one might become rich
But, would quite probably trade
all that wealth away
for all the good times lost
between faith, family, and friends

As I rise
I do thee wake
A prayer I plead
I no longer ache

From the future’s curse
Of fret and worry
To the ache of regret
I have tried to bury

No more need to rule
No itch to conquer
All ledgers accounted for
By my tenure

As nothing obeys me
I have been so crowned
The King of Nothing
And to that I am bound

God might wonder
how can a man not be changed
by witnessing the birth of his child
It’s one of those clues
that the world does not revolve
around one’s enormous head
An epiphany that should begin to
free one’s spirit from the bonds of
self-absorbing narcissism
But, then again ..

Sometimes, we can be such geniuses
Caught in the lies
Of what we think we know
It's just part of the show
Trading truth
For a clever disguise

When I wake I wonder
What the day will bring
Will my heart run silent
Or will it choose to sing
Will I sense the tragic death
Of yet another day
Or feel enough true gratitude
To kneel to God and pray
Will I find the joie de vivre
To take life as it goes
Or see my reflection frowning
At the world and all its woes

These bullies
Of pragmatic reality
Mean to be the death
of all dreams
For they will not rest
Until they’ve done their best
To destroy that which glitters and gleams

Sometimes, in the dead of night
before I've had the chance to write
they disappear into the light
of the moon outside my window
I leave the house, sit on the lawn
Wait until the crack of dawn
Still no trace of where they’ve gone
Where do forgotten words go?

How pale the days
without love
No color to their memories
and tomorrow but a sketch
of a painting not yet started

Grace is for the day that ends
the sunlight’s long goodbye
It’s when the world may sleep again
‘neath the moonlight’s watchful eye

Hope is the sun at the break of day
for all who wake to rise
to a promise of life renewed
for faith they won’t let die

Wise man say
It is much easier
To practice acceptance
Of the world’s imperfection
Within the silence of meditation

In the early spring
when flowers bloom
the daffodils dance
by the light of the moon
Their time is short
yet dance with glee
for the night can’t own them
and they will always be
children of a rising sun

Father, tie a ribbon
To an old oak tree
That will let me know
You’re still waiting for me
Don’t let the ugly past
Turn your love away
Please don’t forsake me
Because I went astray

If you choose to take a turn
Down that old oak lane
Find a branch that you can reach
Absolve me from the pain
Of regretful memories
And so much that has passed
Let me trade them for a ribbon
So I can come home at last

The music is in there somewhere
Trying to tell your soul
it’s solely there to restore to you
what the sadness came and stole
Listen to the pleasant tune
It can’t be there by chance
The more you hear
The more you cheer
and you may even want to dance

If Yesterday
be scarred by bad memories
and Tomorrow
possessed by dark dreams
They both have the power and influence
to make Today
come apart at the seams

Say goodbye
to the days of summer
as we ponder Autumn’s waking
It’s warm memories
fall from the trees
forgotten until Spring’s remaking

In a very big house
on a hill made of money
Rising to the sky
from the ground
An overweight man
Fat from ill-gotten gains
picked from all the pockets
in town

How dull the instrument of alcohol
In service of emotional pain
For come the dawn
the effect is gone
and the wolf is at the door again

A violin
for a single flower
Cellos for all
the gray barren trees
An orchestra
and it’s infinite power
for an ‘Ode to Joy’
to set the world at ease

Oblivious
to their despair
it roams the house
without a care
It's in the clothes
and on the dishes
All against
their sincerest wishes
and as the kids
come through the door
the ******* plague
falls to the floor
This war on dirt
cannot be won
and the keeper's job
is never done

There is no strength in cruelty
It is an ugliness with only weakness
as it’s base
An unsightly reflection
of damaged people causing more harm in defense of their open wounds

Lady bug Lady bug
My, you are so small
Yet, you cast a shadow
Upon my kitchen wall
It makes me think my frame of mind
Can sometimes be so shallow
And that is when I’m wee enough
To fit inside that shadow
Lady bug Lady bug
What if you should fall
Where am I to go
When I do not stand so tall?

Criticism of oneself
Is often the harshest
Do unto you
As you would have others
Do unto you

As I ride into work
I catch myself dreaming
of a nice, long nap
before a day yet begun
My bed is the grass
of a cool, green meadow
draped in the light
of a warm, Autumn sun

“I have to look for your father”
We’d hear our poor mother say
When he had little fear
Standing on the great pier
During a storm on the bay

When father had the Black Irish
We’d hear our poor mother pray
"God, keep him off the **** pier"
When bad weather is near
So the sea can’t wash him away

All the birds have flown away
and a nest is what remains
I feel more and more
like that beat up bike
that's been left out in the rain

Many an unfinished project
began with the impractical
pursuit of perfection

Love is that random act of kindness
that we think we don’t have the time for

There are times
when the atrocities
committed on the the battlefield
of my own mind
are the equal of anything
that happens in the real world
My sane and logical thinking
tells me that this is most certainly not true
But, the insane and emotional part of me
tells me that it is

Fear and Rage
Brother to brother
Whenever they awaken
One says to the other
What kind of suffering
can we cause today?
That’s when one hears
the other one say
I just love the smell of ******
in the morning

Let there be only
loving words spoken
so another harsh cycle
be beautifully broken
To free a generation
from a circle of pain
that it may soon wash off
in a cool cleansing rain
of tears so long sought after

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

A thousand tiny paper cuts
brought him here to death
The vengeful words
of his angry thoughts
expired with his final breath

I'm unarmed man
dancing in the street
to the tune of a gun
fired at my feet
I cannot stop moving
for if I do
I'll see my pride leaking
from a ****** shoe

The azure blue
of an infinite sky
is dotted with soft white pillows
The cool, clear water
of meandering streams
runs amidst the oaks and willows
These fields of dreams
that sway in the wind
are painted with a tint of gold
They wave at me
as I go by
for me alone to behold
God is at work
God is at work
Don’t wake me up
It’s God at work

Full of liquor and beer
The man in the mirror
Spoke to the other
At the shed of a tear

“Selfish deeds
For empty needs
Perhaps are why
Hearts ache and bleed”

How ironic the insight
that my mind
spends much of it’s time
blind
to the reality that it is
stuck in the head
which is stuck up the ***
of a blundering fool