Remember how it used to be,
when we would go outside,
and hang out with folks in person?
But now we stay inside.

We used to write each other letters,
with paper, pen and ink.
Once delivered you would read it,
then write back with what you think.

And remember in the old days,
when you could just be "out"?
And things could wait for your return,
there was never any doubt.

But now if we're unreachable,
then something must be wrong.
'Cos everything is urgent,
our time to us does not belong.

Well I don't know bout the rest of you,
but I miss the olden days.
They used to be less stressful,
better in many ways.

So I think I'll turn my cellphone off,
and shut my Facebook down.
Write letters to those friends of mine
who don't live in this town

But I think my plan might hit a snag
there's something that I lack
I don't know where these people live
and they probl'y wont write back

So I guess I have a choice to make
tell me, what would you do?
Would you give your address to me,
so I could write to you?

So you want me to work late again,
because you're understaffed.
Yet everyone else in this place,
is sat upon their ***.

I work twice as hard as everyone,
while they just coast along.
Yet you come to me each weekend,
and sing me the same song.

You say its because I'm good,
which I guess makes the others bad
You try and stroke my ego
do you think that I'm that sad

Well sorry boss but I got plans
so no can do this time
Perhaps you can get one of them
to tow the company line.

Of course they do not want to
what made you think they would
They don't have to give their weekend up
but for some reason I should?

Well like I said I'm busy
got me some stuff to do
Dont worry, while I'm at the beach
I'll be thinkin' of you.

So you think you want to fall in love
did I hear you right?
What's wrong with being happy
are you yearning for a fight?

Cynical, who me?
Is that really what you think?
Just because I'm a little bruised
and flushed two marriages down the sink

But seriously all jokes aside
when loves new there's nothing better
but when it starts to hit the fan
you'd think we would know better.

Where did all the trees go Dad?
    Why son we cut them down,
    milled them into two by fours,
    used them to build the town.

    And what we didn't build with,
    we burned upon the stove.
    See we never thought we could,
    use up this treasure trove.

    Once, we started planting,
    a tree for each cut down,
    but then we ploughed them under,
    to make room for a bigger town.

    And then all of a sudden,
    (at least thats how it seemed),
    we had so many people,
    more than we ever dreamed.
  
    We had nothing left to build with,
    and nowhere to grow food.
    So people started moving out,
    in a less than happy mood.

    With everyone so angry,
    at all that was so wrong,
    they raised their voice in protest,
    at marches and in song.

    But nobody could help us,
    cos in our hour of need,
    we'd consumed or sold off everything,
    to satisfy our greed.

    We wanted it all now,
    didn't want to look ahead,
    so in answer to you question son,
    all the trees, like us, are dead.

I know nothing about poetry
not my stanza from my verse
and I don't know all the rules
which makes others want to curse

I try to write a haiku
but i get the subject wrong
apparently senyru
is to the family it belongs

I don't know my Emily Dickinson
From my Edgar Allen Poe
And I feel sometimes my writing
has a long long way to go

But I like the sound of rhyming things
the rhythm and the tone
and the way that certain chosen words
can cut right to the bone

And I like the thought that somewhere
maybe upstairs in bed
someones days a little better
cos I wrote something they read.

sunset summers eve
golden hues on passing day
and so night does fall

I long to hold you in my arms
feel your skin upon my skin
to place my lips upon your neck
and slowly breathe you in

To feel your chest against my chest
your hips against my hips
to feel the arching of your back
and the quiver in your lips

To see the love within your eyes,
reflected in your soul,
everything that is of me
is yours to have and hold

As we come together
and our bodies become one
emotion becomes motion
beating to a different drum

In passion bound, oblivious
to all that is without
consumed within each other
no hesitation and no doubt

And as our dance comes to an end
and in its bliss we bask
having shared all of each other
there's nothing left to ask