Written on June 22, 2009, the fortieth anniversary of Judy Garland's death

40 years later:
She continues to leave us
in a loss for words.

She goes
out of her way
to help other people.
If that's not being a hero,
what is?

Alone,
isolated,
feeling suffocated,
wanting to die, yet still, wanting
to live.

Words cannot describe
the emptiness I carry
now that I'm alone.

My brain is painted,
Your face is my memory --
A recollection.

To all the editors who have rejected me

A rejection slip:
An editor's classic way
of saying "You ****!"

Lying on the couch:
A Judy Garland CD
soothes a resting soul.

When I hear a small child,
Crying and going wild,
My mind starts to go crazy,
And the work becomes lazy.

It is hard to concentrate,
Yet harder for me to hate,
For I have been in their heels --
I know how the child feels.

As we danced all night,
the music that played took us
to another place.

If I had to tell you something
that I know would make your day now,
and would make your day forever,
I'd say that you are beautiful,
and that you'll always be that way
no matter what tomorrow brings.

Beautiful is she,
My one and only,
Who smells my flowers
For all the hours.

Though it may seem nice,
Christmas is not about gifts.
Rather, it's the love.

There is nothing greater
while listening to the radio
than a soothing love song
that will take your heart
to a direction in your life
you had never expected
to see yourself in before.

You become a different person,
different than that of the
person you had once been.
Reality turns into a dream,
a dream that stays with you
longer than the three minutes
the music is bound to run.

And when it is all over
you begin to think to yourself,
"What have I just become?"

Here lies a gossip,
Forever shut up.

Now you may say God is good,
yet I just can't help but to differ,
for that God is not good,
but He is greater than good.
Greater than great, I may add,
because there no words
that can accurately describe
how great our God really is.
Now you can thumb through the pages
of all the dictionaries out there,
and you can thumb through the pages
of all the versions of the Bible,
and you can still not locate
that perfect word out there,
the one which describes God
in the truest possible meaning.
You can't do it. I can't do it.
All we can say is that God is great,
and He does great things for us
all the time, every time.

As our hands let go,
it was hard to say good-bye.
The love was still there.

You are breathtaking.
You fill me with emotion.
You inspire me.

She reaches over,
asking for something to eat.
But I have nothing!

As my eyes intently gaze upon You,
I can see a light shine from up above,
which has to tell me what I know is true --
All the hurt, pain, and suffering thereof
has now gone with the wind, gone to the sea,
made forgotten, made to be history.

Satan,
You make me sick.
At least, that's how I feel.
If you think that I'm worthless, think
again!

I'm hurt.
Admitting that
is hard, especially
when I wish to be on top of
the world.

I am a dream wrapped around
your vivid imagination,
like a Christmas present
waiting to be opened
for everybody to see.

You write about me obsessively
and you keep me in a journal,
where I am read and reread
like a best-selling novel,
and preserved for that one day
when we meet face-to-face.

I didn't call you last night.
You wondered if I'd ever.
Maybe I should starting now --
it's better late than never!

-- To Miley Cyrus

I don't care for you.
As hard as it is to say,
I don't care for you!

I wish
I could tell you
what I need to tell you,
but I don't know how you would think
of me.

If I could sing a song,
a song so beautiful
that it would mean something,
something for the whole world
to relate to, and for the world
to be filled with passion,
and with joy, and with deep comfort,
I would sing a lovely ballad,
one that would last a lifetime
a million times over.

And I would sing that song
just for you.

I have a church friend.
She objects to my earrings,
but she wears earrings.

For years, I forgot
what Christmas was all about.
But today, I know.
It's not about the presents,
it's about loving others.

I live
for the people,
a microphone in hand,
singing that one song people come
to hear.

I love You every day,
I love You every way,
no matter what they say,
because You died for me.

I love you, Mama.
I love you with all my heart,
because you love me.

I thought I loved you.
That was before I knew you.
And now, I miss you.

Staying with a friend:
Listening to Joan Baez,
feeling inspired.

I sing
karaoke
for everyone to see,
even if it's an audience
of one.

I thought
you were the one.
Instead, you betrayed me.
And now, I want nothing to do
with you.

To My Valentine

I thought I should say,
just so you would know
(and the world would know)
that I love you so
this Valentine's Day.

I wait
for tomorrow,
and as I do, I hope
and pray that everything turns out
all right.

I wish I could own a suit,
but I'm not talking about any suit.
I wish I could own a suit
that bore the colors of the tree
I so deeply admire, with flowers
on top making my mind swirl
with imagination, creating
all kinds of dreams I never had before.

I wish I could own a suit,
so I could show off my true colors
every place I'd go, whenever I'd want.
And if I could, I'd like to wear it
with me one day when I go to sleep
and wake up over my favorite tree.

Sometimes,
I wonder why
I don't get so much as
a single "Hello" when I'm on
the phone.

-- In honor of award-winning slam poet Joaquin Zihuatanejo

There are slam poets,
there are slam-winning poets,
then there is Joaquin.

Life is like a poem.
It begins and it ends.
But in between the two,
it's a work in progress!

Call me
what you want to,
think of me as you wish.
But before you do, look in the
mirror.

To say
that I'm worried
is an understatement.
The thought of losing you makes me
feel lost.

-- To Tammy

You make me feel loved
with every kiss you give me.
You make me feel loved.

Dedicated to Pastor Todd Boddy of Princeton, Texas

His name is Todd.
It rhymes with God.
People know Todd
as Man of God.

I don't have to be
what I want to be
to be who I am,
which of course, is me.

Meeting an old friend:
a time for reminiscing
moments of our youth.

My heart is melting,
melting like never before,
melting over you.

My life
is a nightmare.
That is with you in it.
I wish you could go and leave me
alone.

Last night, while walking barefoot,
I stumped awkwardly on my toe.
The pain was so horribly real,
I screamed in agony "Oh no!"

Thankfully, Little Bill was there --
I call him My Sweet Billy Bug --
And with arms spread like an angel,
He tightly gave a big, bear hug.