Compassion is the thread
that runs through most people
to let them know that we are all
cut from the same cloth

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

Yesterday a hazy memory
Tomorrow is but a dream
Today’s expectations working hard
to build a head of steam

How do we know
watching grass grow
that we are alive and kicking?
We are safe in the cage
but, we will still age
and the time on the clock
will keep ticking

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

Wise man say:

Enjoy today
for tomorrow always comes

It take much work
to be crazy *******

Miserable people
save all gratitude
for death bed

All world's evil
found in one baby's
lumpy diaper

The anecdote to a child's trauma
is found in a mother's face
If only a shot
of this unconditional love
could be given to the whole human race

Confront the wolf
that nips at your heels
if you grow weary
of running
You can always keep trying
to outrun the beast
but, it’s faster than you
and more cunning

As the sun peeks over the edge of night
he slowly opens his eyes
and wakes not with an eagerness of spirit
He grows weary of battle
For this love and hate of himself
is always at war
and if there is any lacking in his resolve
victory for love will be hard-won
if won at all
Fatigue will plague his every moment
until the darkness grants his leave
It is then he can close his eyes to sleep once more

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

What sort of wretch am I?
Who curses God from where I lie
When I want to sing
I want to cry
But my arid throat’s too dry
To utter anything but
“What sort of wretch am I?”

It's difficult to see
the charm in a day
when so much
is taken for granted
Let's be mindful to pray
at the start of the day
then be grateful
for the seeds we have planted

Cry in the rain
And the world cries with you

Crows in a wheat field
Just before a storm
Bearing dark omens
Of the future yet to come
They came to me in mourning
Inside my dreams at night
Before too long Pop took ill
And chased God into the light
Crows in a wheat field
Soaking in the rain
Waiting for my head to nod
And for me to sleep again

Sometimes we have
the brains of a sparrow
with neural pathways
so small and narrow
When the black and the white of things
stand next to each other
we either can't
or won't be bothered
to see the shades of gray
because it's just easier that way

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

How empty the heart
that cannot love itself
For it cannot give
what it does not possess
and the world suffers

To restore the years
the locust have eaten
You must honestly review
time weathered and beaten
Where have you been
trying to know who you are?
It’s not only the world
that wouldn’t let you be you
You may not know it
but, you did it too
Nodding yes to those
who were planning from the very start

To waste the precious you

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

All I have to be
Is a haunted human being
Gaunt with the shame
Of a lamentable past
Then looks thrown my way
From those I send fleeing
Frightened by ghosts
Freed again at long last

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’s a stone cold figure
At the edge of the river
Helping poor souls get aboard
His hell-bound ferry
Takes all it can carry
Down to the Black Bottom Gorge


Oh Black Bottom
Oh Black Bottom
Don’t you fret none
Cause I done got ‘em
The ferryman softly sings


If they don’t know by now
Why they’re here or how
They ain’t never gonna
Learn a **** thing

The powerful image of a hungry child
crushes my self-pitying thoughts
and I feel sad for the poor waif
that can't get enough to eat
and disappointment in the fool
that forgets his good fortune

Age always comes before wisdom
if wisdom ever comes at all
And what a pity
for the young and pretty
if wisdom’s not there for the fall

Science is not the enemy
of centuries of absurd religion
And in the end
it will become it's friend
but not without evolution
or revolution

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

Some decisions are easy
But some we are left to wrestle
With bad and the good
The what-ifs and the shoulds
Eventually ground up in a pestle

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

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

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

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

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 hard the storms
We seem to weather
They leave our souls
Like well-worn leather

****** resignation
Perceived as strength
And so little notice
Of suffering in length

Maybe sadness is happiness
So dearly bereaved
And we live with the loneliness
Of love’s empty shirt sleeves

Can life be so bad
that you’re better off dead
I asked a wise man
and here’s what he said:

“There’s no way out of life
except through death
So, beware of that spot
between a rock and a hard place”

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

That fleeting moment
of divine inspiration
floats like a leaf
on a warm Autumn day
Gather it quickly
and pull it close to your heart
before a cold wind
comes and blows it away

Anxiety is fear
that has nowhere to go
So we route it to places
we hope it won’t show
Before it gets strong
we move it along
before it gets fed enough
to flourish and grow

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

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

Set me afloat
on a slow moving river
Aboard an old raft
with Pop's rocking chair
I'd puff on my pipe
and rock on the water
waving goodbye
to the world's phantom cares

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

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

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

There will be no smiles today
There will be no laughter
There will be no acts of love
or the moments after
There will be no celebration
There will be no glee
Only thoughts of those I've lost
and what they meant to me

Pain makes
narcissists of us all
Only Jesus

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

When he heard himself say
“It is what it is”
he dropped by the office
of Dr. sloe gin fizz
The doc stumbled in
stinking of gin
and placed a bottle
at the end of the table
Doc said “Down the hatch”
Rocky said “What’s the catch?
Doc slurred “Apparently, this
can make you unstable”

I love you
a bushel and a peck
The smell of your hair
The tiny mole on your neck
The shape of your shadow
in the bright sunlight
The shine of the moon
on your face at night
Without you
my world would be a wreck
Besides, you’re a bargain
at a bushel and a peck!

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

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