I create. And it's more than just
words that rhyme, if I could I'd
write all the time.

I can make words fly or crawl
or dance, Be the Romeo in a story
of my own romance.

I build ships that sail the ocean
or fly up to the moon. I  can help you
feel the wind or help you hear
the greeting of the loons.

I create. And it's more than just
words that rhyme, if I could I'd
write all the time.

I was once a tall oak tree
as tall as the eye could see.
I lived in a lush green forest
full of animals, trees and plsnts
we had every species from
an elephant to a badger to an ant

One day men came into my home
I hoped they would leave us alone
but they had an arsenal of chain saws
and, axes and it was then their intent
became clear,  they meant to cut us
down which filled me with utter fear.

Then they stack us up log by log,
one by one until the deed was done .
Next they took us to a processing area
where they fashioned us into planks,
boards, tables, stools and chairs.

And although I'd rather have stayed a tree
instead of furniture and other means
of utensils, it could have been worse
at least I can tell my story because
they made me a pencil.

everyday
you explode
into my brain
I don't want to
sound crazy
because
it's not like
I'm insane.
It's just
every piece
of you is
embedded
into me like
shrapnel from
an explosion
where you
blew apart
and became
permanently
embedded into
my heart.

I can travel on paper. Visit unknown places. Gift barren lands
with lakes and rivers, the poor with gold and silver. I could
run a marathon and be the winner.

I can travel on paper.  I'd finally go to London, meet the Queen.  Discuss life with her and everything. I could fly to the moon and back in one day. Learn piano from Beethoven, and a sonata I'd play!

I can travel on paper. And leave this old, frail body behind, I'd run through fields, climb mountains. Pen the most perfect rainbow by day and the most beautiful stars in the sky by night.

I can travel on paper. I can go to a place and time when she loves me again and is mine. Yes, I'd pen the love I'd lost fully restored. Come to think of it, who could ask for more?

she didn't tell me so she lied
leaving me with thousands of
tears over the years I've cried.
Now in hindsight, I understand
the sudden trip to Disneyland,
Of course, I was a fool because there was
a reason I was missing so much school.

she knew but I did not so she lied
I was oblivious in the worst kind of way
selfishly unaware
and I blame myself to this day.
Trips to the mall to buy a new dress,
so easily forgiven when I made a mess.
A new sound system,
Mounds of comic books,
My very own TV.
But she told my brothers and not me
thus stole my chance to live in reality.

She thought I was too young so she lied
had I have known, the questions would
have poured out of me like a flood
instead she left me with so many
unanswered questions about the secrets
of all life's greatest lessons.
See, I didn't need toys, prizes or trips abroad,
Those aren't important now that she's gone.

She wanted to spare me the truth that
she was dying, so she lied.
Decades later I'm still angry inside.
So when all was unsaid and done
all she really left me was
A Beethoven bust,
A lot of broken trust,
The love of poetry,
Tons of insecurity,
years and years of acting wild
but mostly she left me
a motherless child.

My life is a collection of hues brilliant and inert partly painted with pain and blood, a hodgepodge of wine and dirt.

Fold in the deepest oceans with a splash of goodbye tears mix with hot burning coals of a 'please come back' yearning that's lasted all these years.

I'll never be the freshly pinched cheeks of babies like the color of a rose, or a bright good morning sunshine, no, I'm neither of those.

I'm more like a starless night or hot desert sand beneath your feet, I'm not a crescendo I'm more like slight discomfort on repeat.