How can we awaken
without crying
How can we question
without tears
How do we answer
without lying
How do we laugh
without fear

this mask I must wear
it leaves me with a cold sense
of unbelonging
it makes me a stranger
among many other masked strangers
and though I am but a few miles away
I feel far from home

Sometimes I think
that my search for meaning
in humanity
errs on the side
of humanity

It is both eerie and sad to sit
in this dark room
listening to the tuning
of his instruments
For they now lie abandoned
in a forgotten corner
along with his dreams
that rose in the steam
of yesterday’s morning coffee
Now are the casualties from battles of dysfunction
long dead but not forgotten

I would like to hear again
From my brother’s violin
And see the world
As not the sin
That took it all
Away from him

Delusion was that place in my heart
that I sometimes mistook for the truth
But, as I get older
I begin to miss
that place where I spent
much of my youth

How much of the truth
must be missing
before everyone sees it's a lie
A tattered "Old Glory"
will come with the story
of how we let it all die

... and hidden from the world
     where most cannot see
     a boiling cauldron of madness
     the trouble that is me

      when the dark times come
       I seethe at light's absence
       then rage at God
       for his apparent indifference....

Sandman
Be his friend this night
Keep them away until first light

Spare him the nightmare
The brink of his waking
The sweat of his body
It’s tireless quaking

Mommy and Daddy
Throw him under that train
Leave him in sheets
Stiff in dried stains

Why won’t they leave him
Alone in his bed
Or, at least, show some mercy
And send monsters instead

If I had the picture
of Dorian Gray
May I be willing
to give it away
For my greater good
I hope that I would
free my soul
to find it’s own way

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!

There were crows in my dreams
Before my father died
They became the haunt of me
With the stare of their steely eyes
I bowed my head and prayed each night
Before the Grace above
To rid my dreams of the crows
And see instead a dove

As I find myself standing
at the foot of this hole
A ***** in my hand
A little angst in my soul
I ask the same question
Again and again
Do I dig the hole deeper
of do I fill it in?

Miserable are those
whose weight of themselves
has become so heavy
as to care so little about others

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

Much of I know is *******
I hope that that little of what I do not know
Is not

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

The more time I have
The more time to squander
Distracted by thoughts
That begin to wander
Leaving my wits
In scraps and tatters
As if what I think
Unmistakably matters
I need not task
My every moment awake
But the less idle my mind
The fewer chances to take

Care not
what you ought
and what you were taught
or your life
may be void
of any original thought

Pain makes
narcissists of us all
Only Jesus

I  have died
many deaths
and labored through
many shallow breaths
Dreading so, what I might face
If I peered into the space
between the frames
of my mind's worst horror movie

If you go to a room
With an idle clock
Close the door
And engage the lock

There you live
For 20 years
And that clock
Moves not it’s gears

Will you age?
Will you wither?
I know its nuts
But I’m not sure either

All the air
blown between my ears
and all that's lost
from those crazy years
In the one
and out the other
Maybe it's better
that I didn't bother
to notice what was passing through

As I lay me
down to sleep
I pray for slumber
long and deep
I hope to go
where there are no borders
harsh commands
or marching orders
A dream of where
I have no fear
to do the things
I can’t do here
I want to go
where I can fly
with no concern
about how high
And when I wake
I’d like to know
That there’s some place
I can always go

To be free

Surely, the sun must revolve
around those who believe
that the attention of but one pair of eyes
must mean that the whole world is watching
No need of Copernicus to explain
this self-perceived celestial law:
One solar system
One person at its center
reality is not welcome
and it may not enter

Don't find many smiles
in those very old photographs
Maybe, it's the look of hardship
hiding in the sepia
Barely a grin
Not quite a frown
Glad to be alive
But, not quite gratitude
Expressions that seem to say
"Don't worry friend
it will all be over soon enough"

Just as he finished burying
the last of his unwanted memories
they were disinterred again
at the order of the coroner
His hands blistered
back sore
shovel still in hand
he was told
"Dig 'em up. Dig 'em all up
and when you're done,
bury 'em again because
we got to get your mind right”
It was then that he felt
there will come a time
when he won't need that ****** shovel

It is easier
to be ourselves
acting as someone else

That which is
clearly smothering us
is strangely
what we can’t live without

So beautiful was she
that to gaze upon her
was to be willing
to lay down life for her
as was her right
and the world’s privilege
The sight of her
could inspire the worst of cowards
to courageousness worthy of a knight
protecting his queen
If only to live a short time
happy in the moment
of such sacrifice

As it was
in the beginning
So, it is now
One can’t know
happiness
Unless, one learns how
to shed the last tear of the just
forever holding peace
thereafter

We don’t run
We don’t skip
We don’t even walk
We slog
through the mire
of each other’s suffering

Nothing like heavy suffering
to appreciate the lighter weight
of it’s absence

Better to know
The worth of things
Rather than their cost
And never suffer the
Consequence
Of losing what
Can’t be lost

I can blot out the sun
and not let it shine
You'll be desperate for lies
that are but wishes of mine

The dust from regrets
you thought left behind
Is what you will choke on
when you mistake it for wine

I may smother your dreams
and leave your soul hollow
Extinguish the flame
of all hope that may follow

My power depends
on the weakness in men
For those that stay broken
can't be broken again

So, look if you dare
and can cope with what's there
Let's meet in the darkness
if you don't easily scare

When my own folly
paves the road to ruin
I rage against God

Tenuous contrasts
Of dark and light
Shades of gray
In portraits of white
Form timeless images
Of bygone ages
Evidence of Time
And the war it wages
They’re nostalgic reminders
Of a simpler time
When the world was young
And life lived sublime

I avoid the pictures
That document the years
Resist the poses
In front of the mirrors
Convincing my mind
To allow me to stay
Forever young
Like Dorian Gray

The appetite of time
is insatiable
It devours all
that was once mighty
and leaves
nothing but
the odor of decay

My heart to those
who so love a rose
They wither along side
it's mortal repose
But, there should be no mourning
it's angelic face
For a divine likeness
will bloom in it's place

Sometimes I hear Winter
Through the voice of a cello
Music written by Bach
In andante and mello

Sometimes I see Winter
Through bare trees in the silence
Birds perched on white silos
Awaiting Spring violets

Yes, beware
The Ides of March
Tis the Spring
Of our discontent
But, Lord, what fools
These mortals be
When they heed
The ears they lent
There is nothing
Either good or bad
But thinking
Makes it so
And if the head
Won’t yield to reason
Then up the ****
It goes!

Wrong wrong
as the day is long
are mistaken beliefs
and they are so strong
Most resilient and
as tough as leather
Thoughts from bad wiring
all misfiring together
The groove is so deep
that it seems like the norm
thriving in the chaos
of a perfect storm

The hours are always elapsing
No matter how idle their passing
There in Time's pages
Everyone ages
'til nothing is done without gasping

The pedals for me
A seat for you
On a bicycle
Not built for two

The wind at our backs
Pushing the load
Free us to coast
Down a country road

Pick one for you
And one for me
After we stop
By an apple tree

Spin round and round
In a field of rye
Bask in the sun
'Neath a blue sky

After a day
That ends too soon
We'll race across
The face of the moon

You are the hand
I am the glove
This the dance
The dance of love

For as long as it lasts
The dance of love

Most days
the mist of morning
will rinse away
my dreams
But when the dreams
are nightmares
I hear echoes
of their screams

Along an old highway road
there in a field
among scores of wild flowers
sits a lonely, little house
it looks abandoned
and not much to look at
it’s the worse for wear
there’s been no one there
to give it attention
and some proper care
to many the house goes unnoticed
but, I was drawn to its solitude
I pictured myself on it's front porch
watching a sunrise
or rocking in a chair at night
gazing upon the moon and stars
provided especially for me
in my little house

I see blue trees
in orange skies
Papered houses
and country sides
Yellow breezes
from shores nearby
Pushing silver crests
on purple tides
A world imbued
with brilliant dyes
Gazing into
her kaleidoscope eyes

Was it the best of times?
Or the worst of times?
Maybe it’s best
That we look at the past
Through rose-colored glass
And let sleeping dogs lie

Forgive my sins
for they are great
and wish my past
be not my fate
I pray my heart
be void of hate
and hope this prayer
is not too late

The temptation to look again
Is too much to resist
I can’t hide the disappointment
As the ugly truth persists

The little hand won’t cooperate
And the big hand is even worse
Yet, I remain a clock watcher
And some days it’s such a curse

I’m aware of all devices
Designed to show me time
And not a one can return to me
What I thought was mine

Maybe I can convince some folks
Get everyone to agree
To set the big hand back each day
So I may enjoy my tea!

Sometimes I think
that dumping my vices
would in itself
create a crisis
Today the notion
to give it a try
leaves my leg hollow
and my throat dry
I find a glass of beer
to be blessed
and abstention
to be a great a test
of all that pious men
have written
about love of God
and religion
So, here’s to what
wins the day
and to hell
with what my conscience
has to say

I am but a teaspoon of water
in a large and omnipotent sea
along for the ride
in it's powerful tide
despite objections from me