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
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
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
Old things for new Old things for new Cried a poor peddler through a high province of Peru He thought of the story of the rain that got in It filled the world up to wash away sin It was but an ark that had saved not the least of all that were chosen from man and the beasts And how had that mattered in the Andes of Peru? Long after the water could reach Machu Picchu
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
Of late there has been this restlessness that has been stirring like the wind before a storm The rustle of the leaves warns of an impending doom and it begs the question Is everything in life worth surviving? Just a passing thought but a sobering one At least there are no crows in my bedroom window
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
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
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
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
Re-wrote one entered earlier. This one seems a better fit
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
How tragic for those who must walk in the rain of their own tears Tears that have been shed so hard they fall red with blood For the impact of loss can so brutally harm the grief-stricken they are counted among the living dead
To observe the soothing grace of trees slowly swaying in the wind Is to release myself From the stressful pace of the day and breathe the freedom of the present moment
The fright at the brink of his waking The sweat of his body’s quaking Only moments before his face pressed to the cold steel of the rail Eyes fixed on the roaring machine that force the wide in his eyes each morning Be a friend Sandman Keep it all away until the light Sworn by any natural law not to betray him they toss him to that steely night freighter only to return to their warm beds It would be easier if they were monsters instead
Walking through a field lush with wildflowers Making my way towards a warm setting sun A vision of death or a flight of fantasy Only time will tell which one
The burden of rapture all swollen in sadness is love that’s a fever that descends into madness Yet, this perfect poison is gladly taken like a classic martini Stirred but not shaken
Good morning my pain, my sorrow, my fear Nice to see you Don’t worry I’m here I’ve ignored you all for oh, so long Now I realize that was wrong Wrong for the little child in me Distracting myself So, I could not see the depth of his inner suffering
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”