It was a Saturday afternoon
The legion branch was full
The band was playing some old twangy country song
The front four tables were singing along
Up at the bar
A steady line up of Nevada players
hoping for another jackpot
to cover another few beers
And to make the afternoon last
Nothing worse, than having to milk
a weak draft for an hour
Until the men came back from horseshoes
About three o'clock
the branch livened up as Jimi McGonagle arrived
grandson of the past president
and general all about me, *******
He was strutting around
showing off his new tattoo
No different than his other
thirty or so, but it was new
and it was Jimi McGonagle
so everyone wanted to see
He was proud he now had eight peacocks
All up one leg....there's a joke here
But, even I won't go that far....
The crowd swarmed around him
But, in the back corner
The table....I mean THE TABLE...
didn't move a muscle
In fact out of the three individuals at THE TABLE
Two continued with their dart game
while the third just chuckled, let out a loud
HARUMPH
and went back to his screwdriver
with the quickly melting ice cubes
famous at all legions for helping water down the drinks
Jimi, heard the HARUMPH and looked back
The old man took a slug from the glass
and HARUMPHED louder
Jimi, perplexed, came over to see what was the matter
"Don't like my tattoos Mr. Stein?"
HARUMPH..."they're fine, if you like that kind of thing"
said the old man, knocking back his glass again
"Gives me eight peacocks on my leg now" said Jimi
Again, no response from me on the possible joke here
"cost me almost $700 bucks to get this one done"
"HARUMPH" said the old man....
"What is wrong with you Mr. Stein?"
"Don't like it?"
"Like I said...."
"I know, I know"....said Jimi
"Got any ink?" asked Jimi
"Yep" answered the old man, as a fresh glass arrived
He took a slug...
"So?"...said Jimi, "Is it any better than my peacock?..
"Maybe..maybe not"...said the old man
"It just depends"
The crowd had moved away and was dropping back to the bar area
"Can I see it?" asked Jimi..."What is it?"
"'tain't much to speak of...but I'll show you"....
"Just quit strutting around and sit....and I'll have another screwdriver"...
Jimi sat, and the old man looked him in the eye
"Don't have much colour, like your'n do...don't have any at all"...
"But, a tat's a tat, and you want to see it"...."You sure?"
Jimi nodded, ordered the drink for the old man
"HARUMPH"...said Mr. Stein
He unbuttoned his shirt cuff on the left side
and rolled it up, with his big, beefy, work worn hands
"There she be" he said
"Where", said Jimi
"There'n, on my wrist....just there"
"All I see is a number, an old, worn number"
"That'd be her" said Mr. Stein...."It's all I got, and it's all I need"
"What is it?" asked Jimi
"It's who I am...who I was reduced to"
"It's my curse, and my strength"...
"I was 17 when I got this in Hammelburg, Germany"....
"It was 1943 and we were rounded up"
"and sent to the camps...we were some of the last jews"
"they missed us in the first go round"
"gave me this...don't need another one"
"It's me...this number....it's me"
"Yours are nice...colourful....but are they you?"
"Mine is me"...
"You can see...I have ink....only one....don't want anymore"
"Can I sit a while?" asked Jimi
"Sure, son"...."you can tell me 'bout them silly peacocks"
"Bartender....two screwdrivers"
...and so developed a new and deep friendship....

How many times we starved ourselves
dreaming something that we can’t have…

How many times we deprived ourselves
from wanting the life we wanted the most
just because we lack something or
having the practical mind that it is not for us…

Sometimes we starved ourselves to limit our flight.
Bound by rules, responsibilities, duties,
or even culture, tradition and religion…
Despite all that, we balance everything
for what’s right, what feels right
The Weighing of the Heart ---

There once was a field,
filled with flowers
and a little girl

Little girls are the only onces
interested in daisies
they turn them into jewelry
trying to share their beauty with the world

Little girls grow up
Forget about the beauty they once held
They were only unimportant
daisies

It was me in that field
Nobody considered me worth a second look
the little girls trying to **** me
at least knew I was there

Seven days
Seven days repeat them
Repeat them over
One by one
Seven by seven.
Here we go
Seven colours the sky smiles
Seven times seventy
And seventeen years
Seven levels of hell
And seven sins to send you there
Seven princesses
Sailing seven seas
And seven sea monsters to sink them
Seven lies and seven truths
Seven wonders
On seven continents
That I will never see
Seven dreams
On seven nights
Seven kisses
Seven kisses
Seventeen years
Seven years for complete cell replacement
And it’s been seven
Seven years of plenty
And seven of famine
(which are we in?)
Seven seconds to count down
Seven candles to light
On seven lampstands
7-Up and 7/11
Seven days
Seven days repeat them
Repeat them over and over and over
Seven years repeat them over
Seventeen repeat it over
Repeat it over
Repeat it over and over
Seven cells replaced in seven
Seven tears cried in seven
Seven out of seven
And seventeen years
Seven dwarfs and seven demons
Seven secrets
Concealed by seven lies
Seven torches we bear
Seven oaths and seven gemstones
Seven spells for seven curses
On seventeen days
And the Seven Years War
In seven days I built myself
And in seven seconds I’m destroyed
Seven feathers fall to earth
Seven stars all align
And seven Gods stole my soul
Seven slaves owned by seven masters
Seven burdens
Seven burdens
Seven prayers leave my lips
Seventy Hail Mary’s to save you
And seven angels
Seven sweet friends
That left me
Here’s what they don’t tell you
Seven lives mean seven deaths
And seven joys mean seven pains
Seven sisters mean seven funerals
And seven suns mean seven rains
And seven
And seven
I’ve been stuck on seventeen
For an eternity
Repeat it
Repeat it over
Repeat it over
Seven
And seven
And seven
Teen.
Seven days
And I’ll be home to a house I’ve never seen
In a country I don’t belong to
And a language I can’t speak
And it’s all just seven
And seven
And seven
Teen.

I wake up every morning to a cup of coffee,
Someone always says something a bit too raunchy.
The first thought that driftly comes to mind,
Just so happens to be a truly fine friend of mine.
I care, though it seemed to sadly tear,
What we had was nothing merely than a dare.
He's been through a lot, the poor little devil,
But I was always there to save him from something civil.
All I can really do, is try and be your true friend,
But it's really hard, when you keep pushing us to an end.
When I go to sleep every night to a comfy bed and tears,
It starts to really bother me, when I notice I haven't been happy in years.

I feel lonely.
And thats very hard to admit.
Though there's always people just out of reach, I am always seemingly lonely.
The people who I tell this to all promise they are there an never beyond my finger tips.
And yet I am lonely.
The wish to just sneak away an leave this world behind is always tucked in plain sight in my mind.
But The fear of those who would hurt there after is worse then the desired pain of the impact. The problem lies within the thought if I die. Are any of the problems solved? Am I any less alone,
Or have I just forced That pain onto the ones who clame to be Within grasp. But if they are to be So near. when I drop towards the ground arms wide ready to leave this all behind will they notice in time to hold out there arms and catch me.
Or will they only see the stain of a smile That once wore proudly across my face.
Not realising in time that it had faded to nothing but a memory I was unable to pry back from my soul.
Would they unknowingly stand by as I didn't dare cry. But hold my head high as I bid goodbye, would I no longer feel lonely if I was in heaven with you.