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

Oh how my emotion rules me
I can only bow before it
as it’s loyal subject
If only I could rid
this mighty king of it’s crown
to end this tyranny
and reign peace upon the land

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'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

Wake up
in the cold rain
of a dark alley
to feel the desperate
nature of existence

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

They come to you
At night with lies
To feast on shallow
Breaths and sighs
May God heed
Your prayers with speed
And soothe the child’s
Bewildered cries

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

Should I be still
forever hungry
in the land
of good and plenty?
Should I fill my belly
yet starve my soul
and leave this yearning
to be whole
Solely to the question:
"Is there nothing more?"

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 ..

I heard the songs of sirens
Sweetly humming through the night
Their naked silhouettes appeared
Beneath the grey moonlight
They knew that I was watching
But, was allowed my stay
To gaze upon these wonders
Who so freely danced and played
Precious nymphs of Nature
In worship of the sky
I fear it but a surreal dream
Adrift a field of rye

Though it may be difficult
to follow through
Saying “no” sometimes
is saying “yes” to you
It may appear selfish
and down-right rude
But, looking out for yourself
is the right attitude

You would rather your heart
ten times broken
than suffer the torture of gloom
Blank faces in mirrors
hang on dark inner walls
that won't let you leave the room

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

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

There is living
without living
and two kinds of dead
Please don’t put me
in the grave
before the eulogy
is said

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

Every moment has it's building
Every hour has it's time
Every day has it's passing
Every past the simple crime
of suffering the regrets
of what might have been
and the irony of worry
of what could happen
and when

I have many faults
and logged many a sin
If I had to explain it
I wouldn't know where to begin
But, as I look at the world
I'm beginning to see
Hell may be too crowded
for the likes of me

It's ok
to enjoy today
for tomorrow always comes
Eat your cake
and have it too
before left with tomorrow's crumbs

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

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"

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

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

He's singing in the rain
and feeling no pain
He knows it's insane
but, he's drinking again
Up high on a cloud
He's obnoxious and loud
dancing and singing in the rain

Most fears are echoes
of a fractured past
Duty-bound to prepare us
for apocalyptic fiction

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 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

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

Nothing but the vastness
of it’s own empty space
for the mind
that so desperately
searches for words

Sometimes we may have thoughts
about ourselves and others
that lurk in the dark shadows of human frailty
and lose sight of
what makes us so complex
and uniquely divine

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

The glass half-full
is happiness that is
permitted
in the absence of misery

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

He does love God
But, he fears the devil
and that which he preaches
may not be on the level
His head has been wrought
with these lustful thoughts
It turns on the street
as if on a swivel
One stray from the path
could incur God’s wrath
and he’d forever be
in league with evil

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

I want that picture
That picture of a young boy
standing proudly next to his father
That picture I lean on
when the world weighs heavy
That picture that when I'm confused
begs the question:
"What would Dad do?"
I want that picture
and yet I do not have it
and his death only serves to remind me
that I never will

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!

No one knows better
how hard it is
to stop and smell the roses
than one whose hair is on fire

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

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

We had our fears
and shed our tears
we labored on
through hidden years
when we look back
on lessons learned
we hope, at least
some bridges burned

May we all be spared
the lens of poets
for ignorance is bliss
and only they truly know it

I lie in the silence
of your golden sleep
the look of youthful innocence
is on your face to keep

As I gaze upon
your peaceful smile
You pass the night
in graceful style

and manage it
without a single peep

How can people see insanity
In those who are trained to act?
And they themselves can’t distinguish
Between boldfaced lies and fact?

How difficult the lives
of those who spend
much of adulthood
searching for the parts of themselves
lost in an embattled childhood
and once found
assembling those jig-sawed pieces
into what was thought never to be whole

Allow the particle of self
to join the wave of humanity

A violin
for the absence of flowers
A cello
for the snow-sprinkled trees
An oboe
for the bird that missed the trip south
And silence
for Winter’s dis-ease

If Time is the great conqueror
and we must bend to it’s will
If it is such a powerful tyrant
then, why is it so easily killed?

I have an applecart
It's contents are just so
Everything has it's place
Everything a row
I know too well
that if I let
the applecart
get too upset
I'll change into a man
I do not know