Not with a blade
Nor with blood on my hands
But with wisdom
And compassion
May I be tyranny’s end

With poetry and prose
With the ink and the rose
With an inkling to know
Just and unjust
Right from wrong
May I be tyranny’s end

With love
Not a bullet
No bombs to blow through it
No glass shattered or metal disfigured
This is what I figured
May a revolution of words
Be tyranny’s end

To the opera house the happy youths went
Two pretties, each strolled with a handsome gent
Four friends with every good intent
Of having a grand old time

Fair Marjorie dressed in sapphire blue
Her Alfred was wearing the same color, too
While Charles and Francine matched a crimson-y hue
The ambiance was feeling sublime

The lights of the theater were bright, but romantic
A large chandelier straight above made the ladies feel frantic
Violins started tuning, like strange waves of Atlantic
The grandeur of curtains opened, as the stage was undressed

But what humored the bunch was the old lady in peplum skirt
Two seats over from Alfred with birds embroidered on her shirt
She was peculiar, came alone and looked hardly alert
As the actors took position, she yawned, unimpressed

The old lady's antics continued for over an hour
She snorted at the singing, with boisterous power
By intermission her nose-blowing had turned each love scene sour
Our four were straining, containing their laughter

And during the intermission everyone got up, bought a drink
But the old lady just sat there, like she wanted to think
Beginning to stroke the dark fur of her wraparound mink
She nodded, falling asleep shortly after

Charles saw it first--"the old girl's dozed right off!"
Alfred chuckled and Francine, beginning to scoff
Proposed they prank the lady, but Marjorie coughed
Saying, "shame on you, wicked child!"

So they all sat back down and awaited the second unveiling
Two seats over from Alfred, the gray one's slumber unfailing
Act two and act three ended, the hero prevailing
At the final bow, the audience was wild

Everyone clapped and cheered loudly, some whistled or threw roses
Everyone but the one in the third seat over, under all the guests noses
Who slept though each applause and the actor's last poses
The theater was clearing out quickly

Four waited--Alfred, Marjorie, Charles and Francine
To see if she would wake and depart from the scene
The last five in the balcony, the gray one serene
The fun was over and they decided to help her get up

When Charles tapped her shoulder, they all finally knew
How tonight's show had smothered a moment so true
The old lady was found dead in the presence of those few
Still in the same seat, they never helped her get up

I love all avenues
of human advancement
as long as they
seek the expansion
of knowledge, wisdom,
and compassion.

From my window I gazed on a lily
That had been denied rain and sun,
Always looking heavenward with trust,
Pleading for mercy . . . but finding none

From my window I watched a grieving bird --
Strong gales had swept over her nest,
In vain, she called to her loving mate . . .
Morning found his tattered wings at rest

From my window I observed a woman,
Lonely tears channeling her face,
Every day she walked her path alone,
Feeble and unsteady in her pace

A reassuring word might sustain her,
As I hastened to draw nearer,
It was only then I realized
That I was looking in my mirror

The slighted lily, the forsaken bird,
How devious the mind can be!
My own pain, so cleverly disguised
Fills my mirror, staring back at me

From my window I watch life passing by,
O, these eyes, how they have deceived!
But blessed are they who cannot discern
What is certain from what is perceived

All strung
out
       on
sadness,
empty shells
of needles
      that injected
the next defense
      to keep me going
splayed upon
the coldness
            of metal
somewhere in a place
lower than
the floorboards
of the nether regions
of a private hell,
where no one sees
      the truth behind
the doors of
           beaten swords
of silken pictures
in frothy shades
of effervescent green
a smiling happy family
in which the
sounds of drowning
can only be
             vaguely heard
a faded gurgle
       in an ocean of sighs

Somewhere, there,
the pain in my veins
spreads like
a self-administered
                       drug
only it's not
my prescription, at all
just a parody
from the very
    sick doctor
who shares
          this house,
meant to
be a home
one who thinks
he knows it all
but knows nothing

In this dreamlike weaving
of staring blankly
into alternative spaces
when all is so heavy
that even breathing is a task
I suddenly remember
   who the **** I am
and push my gaze through
the ceiling cracks
to look up at
         the stars,
receiving their
            shadows
           of light
      like a blessing
   upon my
   nettle-stung
    tongue
and
       rise

If you want to know how I spend my time
RC Cola and a Moon Pie
Chewing on a stem of Bahia grass
Just in case you feel the need to ask

Skipping stones across a glass top pond
Blowing wishes from a dandelion off the lawn
Living the country life all inside my head
Before I find there ain't nothing left

Chasing Crawdaddy's in a deep wood stream
Playing hide and seek in a pile of leaves
Cane pole fishing for that elusive Bass
All before Summer's put to bed

Catching Fireflies in their flickering light
Counting all the stars in the skys at night
Stolen Watermelon always tastes the best
That's the part that I'll never confess

Skinny dipping for a living in a mountain lake
Jumping out of planes in a barn of hay
Kids being kids being life fed
Just in case you feel the need to ask