The war machine
Always fed first
The budget for weapons
Never suffers from thirst

While children lay hungered
And vets become hopeless
These priorities in America
Leave the populous hopeless

Slamming doors and burning bridges
they're pretty much the same
once it's done there's no turning back
life becomes a brand new game

The grass that's seen on the other side
though greener it may seem
still needs the same amount of tending
not like what was in your dream

Yeah the land of milk and honey
sure that's what you thought you saw
all things brand new within your view
through your gaze you're held in awe

Taking the step you claim your land
wait don't burn that bridge you just crossed
you slam that door from where you've been
it's all that could be lost

Things don't always work out the way you plan
sometimes you've just gotta retreat
and if you destroy your only pathway back
it's your demise that you could meet

So leave that doorway open
and keep that bridge intact
they could be quite useful in your future
and save you from being trapped

Long has he lived
Finding fault as his aim
You see he was quite lonely
At the start just a game
A new target he'd choose
For every new session
But as his game progressed
It became his obsession
Well now he can't stop
He's grown a negative mind
And everywhere that he looks
The more mistakes does he find
There's become nothing of beauty
In his life there's no joy
Now he wishes he'd never
Begun this game as a boy

It is not your glow dear lamp of the night,
but your tidal draw upon my mind that keeps me from my rest.
You have made of me a lunatic.
Driven me into the night to howl with the dogs.
The hair upon my neck bristles, sweat drips from my brow.
My breath quickens along with the beat of my heart.
How can you in such beauty deliver so much trouble?

The dense smoke hides the sun.
Now enveloped in this darkness
I am alone, yet
there is no peace.
Wars ravish the lands,
innocents continue to die.
Is the flexing of muscle
and the want for riches
really worth the lives of children?

I stepped from the pumpkin,
found the sky to be littered.
There were bright shiny stars,
they surrounded the sun.
It was a moon shadow following me
as I walked above the clouds.

I watched the airplanes,
funny how they flew backwards.
I wondered which way the people were seated.  
Do they realize that they are going
where they came from.

To ask would be so impolite
and an admission
of my weak understanding
of this new day.

Life is play!

Then I thought of
Little Big Man.
Oh how he could ride.

The people in the plane
smiled at me,
all at once.
It was as if on cue.

I checked my fly.

Wanting to return inside the pumpkin
I made an about face
and in its place
I saw a whale leap down
from the surface of the sea above me.
He beckoned for me to enter
and then promised,
I would find what I was searching for within.

There was a tree
with a small stream running beside it.
I sat with my back against it,
fell asleep
and dreamed of a world at peace.

His mind was closed,
he would not see.
The hours we spent arguing.
they never made a difference.
Finally I walked away.
I went to have a heart to heart with myself.
It was then that I found
that I was he
and he was me.

This armed America
the one they told us
would be a polite society
when all carry weapons

our cities
they've become killing fields
we as a people
have become the worst of all animals

officers taking lives
claiming they fear for their own
snipers now returning the favor
as they fear the police

it seems as the road towards that polite society
has become paved with the dead
merely bricks mortered in place
with their blood

will we see be fewer combatants
as the body count rises
or are the re-enforcements
on their way

The door was opened.
Yesterday stood before me,
baggage in hand.
Visions of my past came in droves
ripping away my peace .
Leaving me with new turmoil.

Difficult lessons of my life,
I'd learned from them.
Became a better man for them.
Now hounding me.
Why must I relive these moments?
They only weaken my spirit
and chase me back into a depressed state.
One that I had thought I had long gotten over.
They bring nothing but pain.

Yesterday shall not be allowed to move in.

The eyes hurt.
I so want to close them.
Yet I will suffer the pain
rather than miss the beauty before me.

As I travel the road
I think of the places it has taken me
the people I have met
it was long ago and it was yesterday
now it continues before me
where it leads
who I'll meet
these are the mysteries
that will be revealed tomorrow

I have eaten and my belly is filled
yet the sweet and savory flavors remain
my taste buds beg for more
so I surrender and continue to eat
my satisfaction had brought so much joy
but now the pain begins to grow in my gut
how foolish my over indulgence has become

Hello darkness
thank you sleep
how wonderful the two of you are.
The pain brought me by the harsh light of day,
finally being eased.
I've long accepted the blindness
but the pressure,
the burning,
there is no getting used to them.
It is your touch though
that helps free me from the anguish.
Today has been so ******* my eyes.
Maybe tomorrow will be easier.

Ne'er-do-well, why do you sit?
Do your feet not hold your weight,
are your hands incapable of work?
Have you given up entirely,
resigned yourself to a life in the gutter?
There is a warm belly in a days toil
and self worth when it is of your own making.

Seary-El, a planet far away
home to three classes
of course there was
as always seems to be
a master race of beings

Below them there were the trids
a slave race
a people that were mistreated
kicked by the masters
in order to exact their labor

The third class
the sabbits
a masochistic people
also had residence
upon this planet

As this third class watched
the trids were being abused
kicked over and over
experiencing the pains of
their servitude

Sabbits
masochistic as they were
became jealous of the trids
they approached the master race
they requested to be kicked as the trids were

The masters listened
considered the request
then spoke to the sabbits saying
“Really sabbits,
kicks are for trids”

This fear of the unknown,
unwarranted, yet it resides deep within me.
Why am I afraid to live in this moment?
I shrink at the thought of the next,
what tomorrow might bring me.
My future seen through this negative mindset
leaves my mind weak and spirit broken.
My emotions out of control.
Days wasted, worrying of things that haven't
and may never happen.
My life, empty of peace.
Every moment given away
waiting on the worst to present itself.
My negative thoughts
have brought a sickness to my heart
and death to my spirit.

Man, placed in a box of rules.
Tolerated as long as he behaves
and doesn't wander outside.
His growth limited by its walls
with no room to add anything that might be new.

Is the world afraid
to have a new dessert,
one that may tickle the tastes
of those who see themselves as inmates?

Bound within this box,
their faith and beliefs are squashed.
The box dwellers are deprived
of their choice and preference of their own
likes, dislikes and that which makes them who they are.
Their individualism stolen.
Their personal freedom denied.
Their voices silenced by a sound proofing
created by the approval or disapproval of the elder.

There is no freedom within the box
when forced to live by another mans creed.

There's no turning back as the garden is gone
the blue marble has had its day
***** of her resources
Trees and grasses, the rain forests disappearing

The ozone rent
carbon dioxide
not being converted into oxygen
not at a sufficient rate to support life as we knew it

The ice caps melting
the lands receding for the rising seas
weather patterns being disrupted
natural disasters bringing men to their knees

Man pit against neighbor for survival
and must now accept his fate
as he has waited too long to turn the tide
from his own extinction

It will arrive sooner than the hoped for later

My socks they have grown their own feet
They had said that the dog would be sweet
But there's been no relief
As she's turned into a thief
And that is why I have named her Wall Street

they come for our boys with their lies
their treatment as toys I despise
then with their last breath
our young men enter death
no more than pawns in the war mongers eyes

hearts cold
filled with a loneliness
delivered by abandonment

thoughts muddled
with an uncertainty
of a blinded minds eye

spirits descend
to places far more dangerous
than the hell that took them there

once all becomes black
there is little chance to return
from the depth of depression

The heart of the peacemaker
it'll will never be heard
there is no profit in peace
the greed of the hawks is far too great
they will never let loose of their cash-cow
so why do we continue to speak
why do we write poems for peace
when we know we preaching to the chior
if it weren't for our own sanity
I fear we would give up altogether
our words would dissappear
there would be no-one left saying
“there's a better way than war”
but a heart grown cold
it would only helpo to feed the evil
maybe if we could change one mind
one heart
turn one away from spoils of war
it would be a step
I guess that's why we keep walking

Young men dead and dismembered
for control of oil fields
the lie of Iraq

More youth dead and disabled
protecting the poppy fields
the lie of Afghanistan

We are sacrificing our soldiers
to ensure the freedom of their people
the lie of the nation

Serving the ******
our boys off to wars
returning disabled
from far distant shores

That's when they come home
fatigued to the bone
no sign of support
and they feel all alone

Now as if a young whelp
and begging for help
there's no answer delivered
to this loud screeching yelp

Where is our country
who've sent our children to die
then abandon the veterans
can someone please tell me why

April fools
Trump and Cruz
it's you the public
they wish to use

Their greed for power
grows with each hour
and so many grown men
begin to cower

It's becoming quite clear
by those who draw near
these fools want to rule
through the use of fear

From on top of the mountain
you can see where you've been
and it's really no matter
the why or the when
for it's deep in the valleys
that your lessons are given
your pathways defined
for a life you'll be livin'
take this time to reflect
on all that you've learned
and savor moment
as the tide could be turned
rest here on the mountain
drink deep, quench your thirst
there's another valley aproaching
prepare for the worst

Tid-bits of fish food
sprinkled on the surface
bottom feeders ascend

Narcissistic superiority
demanding respect
receiving none
as it has not been earned

Old age
a state of mind
when to that which is new
a man becomes blind
a body may age
but one thing I find
if you're still young at heart
your life's really shined

I've been told it will be OK
that we'll be safe once again
I sit and question when
my hope squashed daily

extremism
driven by misguided fundamentalists
resident evil shouting out loud
through a hail of bullets
and the explosive vests of suicide bombers
will the time ever arrive
freedom from the terrorists
seems only a dream

bigotry
sparked by the prejudice of the ignorant
leaving death and pain in its wake
another evil that lives next door
these bigots seem bent on attempting genocide
the eradication of anyone who is not exactly like them
is building a  master race their wish
I was taught that those days were behind us
told it could never happen again
especially in this US of A
yet that is the political stage that we find before us
it never seems to get any better

I ask again
when will we be safe again
will there come a time men will respect each other
allow others to practice their own religious beliefs
without the ridicule
will the day come when men will put hate aside
a day they will share kindness rather than abuse
I dream of that day
but the wait
so tired

Times may be many
where things might not go my way
but that will never be reason
to hold my children at bay
it's a love like no other
they're my babies you see
I just hope that they realize
I've still got a strong healthy knee
come sit on my lap
let me hold you once more
and whether you're coming or going
there will be a hug at the door

There will never be peace
till that last soldier dies
the youth who are fighting
swallow government lies

Wars never one sided
the fault lies with both
then brainwashed children
take that ultimate oath

They're to fight to the death
practice an eye for an eye
**** women and children
without knowing the why

Told it's about faith
and on this they should stand
when the truth of the matter
it's really about land

As long as the land
remains the spoils of war
there won't be any peace
politicians keep score

Time now to play war
leaders beating their drums
it's more power they seek
without care how it comes

Sending kids to their death
whether land, sea or sky
it's sad we'll only know peace
once that last soldier dies

Does poetry really depend on new ideas
fresh words concerning the nature of lives

Haven't the ideas with their words
all been presented

Throughout time, in one form or another
the stories all been told

Do we really think we have created something new
something original
by changing names and places

The expressions used changed
rearranged
and repeated time and again

Then labelled as cliché
as some have recognized the story

There is nothing new

Nothing purely original

It is all cliché to someone

If new and original are the requirements
and it's all been said

Then poetry is dead

Write on
share your heart
and though it's been said
tell your story

Somebody needs to hear it again

One eye blind
self pity grows
with each day

One eye remains
true beauty seen
for the first time

life will not wait
not for my decision
what it brings me
will be what it is

a day of joy
bright and cheery
a day of sorrow
dark and dreary

I have no choice
no control

those of joy
when they come
they're wonderful
I feel all is well
I see myself
on top of the world

those of sorrow
as if from nowhere
they appear
leaving me sad
lonely
feeling buried
beneath my troubles
no way to rise
not from the spiritual grave
that they dig for me

where is the escape
promised from my youth

where I wonder
is that silver lining
that easement
that is supposed to come
with the storms

my search only leaves darkness
the deep grey of a clouded heart
while the comfort is there
being hidden by my expectations
rather than received through acceptance

the game of symantics
the war of the words
participants battling
wielding their swords

the problem with english
too much means the same
with neither man wrong
it's our language to blame

my eyes as I watch its dance
my ears as I listen to its song
my heart as I celebrate my place in it
all blessed by natures beauty

War
cities destroyed
roads covered in blood
trails of  the dead
soldiers
civilians
children
no-one remains untouched
nightmares haunt those who survive
the last man standing
wins nothing

I don't care, so what
the arguments of a child
let them remain blind

They close their minds
to that which they do not choose to understand
cover their eyes
to that which they do not want to see
shut their ears
to that which they do not wish to hear
they refuse to accept
there are other cultures holding different beliefs
they deny that there are other schools of thought
with other closed minded people who also believe
their own ways are the only way to live

peace will not be found
until all eyes are open
all ears are willing
and the minds of men are opened
to the fact that they are not alone

The world is filled with those who would steal your joy
their hearts are cold
all of life, every facet of it
must be completely serious
there is no room for fun in their lives

I first saw them as having cheated themselves out of life
but in truth it is not their fault
it is the bitterness they were raised under
their being kept under anothers thumb their entire lives
that's made them this way

How can we actually blame them
for what they've been taught
for what their parents and schools
have instilled in their minds
they know nothing but the rules that must be followed

To watch another step outside of those rules
to see them live their lives differently
to view others experiencing joy and happiness
only offers them great irritation in their gut
but all they know of jealousy is the definition of the word

You see, definitions are within the rules
feelings are not
feelings and emotions are to them
a weakness
something they have been taught has no place in life

I'm sure that I will be asked who are they
and I will answer an entire colony of meerkats
but if they actually need to ask
if they really want to know
their answer will best be found in a mirror

The morning sun
edges its way over the eastern horizon
she begins her daily chore
that of heating of the earth
the air above begins to warm
a thermal is created
a column of warm air
rising high
leaving a void below
cool air rushs in
filling the vacuum
they say the wind blows
while in truth
it really *****

Adrift for days
which had turned into weeks
The current had vanished
and the winds
they had been taken from his sails
It was as if he was being held prisoner by the sea

Baked by a mercilous sun during the day
and feeling frozen at night
his hope had joined the currents and the wind
Another day of the same would only bring more pain

Yet the days continued to come
Each one bringing more of the tortuous rays of the sun

His eyes had been dried
unable to produce the badly needed tears
to relieve them

His skin damaged
The sea water which had helped to cool him
no longer brought relief
instead the salt produced prolonged burning

The eagerness of those first days to survive was gone
In his heart he knew that only death would bring an end
to the suffering

The journey at first
seemed to be taking forever
now the miles fly by
I'm not sure where
when
or for that matter
how it will end
but it's been great
I think I'll celebrate today

Sunshine
without the rains
allows the land to dry
without the water nothing grows
winds begin to strip away the topsoil
important are the storms of life
true joy will not be known
with nothing but
sunshine

The beginning
this must be the root
The end
seems to be absolute
The philanthropist
does he help all he can find
The bigot
I know there's more than one kind
The sea
more than seven to see
The land
tell me which one would that be
The title
can enliven ones mind
The word the
often leaves options behind

This word often says
there is only one
definitive as hell
for the writer no fun
yet we use it because
it's better than none
and quite frankly it fits
like a dog in a bun

His favorite toy
brought great joy for a season
but its day had now come
now no more than an object
the next stop would be the landfill
the day they met
he pledged his love as true
but this love was lust in disquise
and his favorite toy
she sits by the curb on trash day

The sky now blue
the warmth returning
springtime has come
leaving the cold of winter behind
the trees bring forth new buds
giving life to new leaves
the leaves fill the trees
and my eyes and mind now drawn
to the wonder of natures ability
to turn the sky green