I colored within the lines
my picture seemed so dull
my work held no adventure

My spirit is held in Limbo

My freedom of expression
my personal taste
frowned upon

Must I lie to myself

The rulemakers say
if I am to have their approval
I must continue to follow their rules

Do I not have a right to approve of myself

If I am to live within a prison
it will not be of their making
it will be the one I choose for myself

It's time to set my crayons free

Nights were long, days were dark
minutes seemed more like hours
yet in my dreams there was a place
with magic healing powers

The travel would not be easy
the mountains they'll be steep
I imagine there'll be a price to pay
which I know will not be cheap

But here I am, I've made the trek
it's time to pay the price
but now that I  know how much it costs
I will not make it twice

This place has brought me heartache
it's delivered so much grief
I wish I'd known when I first came
it was owned by the spirit thief

He was there to steal my happiness
I had soon become his toy
but like all new toys, he tired of me
and he robbed me of my joy

Now life plods on
who cares how I feel
those **** dreams of magic
they're never real

I built my walls
dug my moat
they will not be breached
for if I were to open the doors
to trust any from outside them
the assult might prove more than I could handle
but I am safe here in my stone castle
at times I feel imprisoned
how could I again give my heart to another

My stone of disrespect was always at the ready

The stones of prejudice and bigotry were my tools

I have thrown that stone of anger

And the stone of bitterness then weighed me down

While the stone of hate destroyed me

Winter
such a special beauty arrives with her.
My cat and I sit quietly watching the feeder,
the one that's just outside the window.
I guess you could considerate this
one of natures most watched shows.

So many different types of birds are visiting this morning.
Flying in and out,
being nourished by our seed.
Well, it's really their seed.
A little help for their survival,
or is it for our entertainment?
Which ever, the cold days and nights
those that come with winter
do require a little more body heat than the other seasons.

Trying to tell the difference between different sparrows
now that's tough.
The finches, they're somewhat easier.
At first the chickadee and the nuthatch with their similar coloring
brought a little confusion.
It didn't take long to learn the difference though.
But when the red bird arrives we both pay special attention.
I've always understood them to be
well, quite territorial.
Yet here are two of the males and a female
all feeding together
without the males arguing.

Men, if they wanted to could learn a lesson from these birds.
Even when times provide the least
there can still be enough to share.
We can all to eat together in peace.

At least that's the case until the bully bird comes along.
Seems as when that blue jay comes in everybody scatters,
he takes what he wants when he wants it.

But you know something
those birds who prefer to feed on the ground.
They have a debt to pay to him.
He certainly does knock a lot of seed to the ground.

He was just here,
I guess it's time to refill the feeder.

Soft music
filling the early hours
it brings me peace
but also a sadness
a sadness that we live in a world
consumed by an attitude of violence
people who think
“I will have closure through revenge”

I am sad for those who hold an attitude of
retuning in kind
wrongs they feel have been done to them

Revenge may bring
a certain satisfaction in their minds
but never peace to their spirit
the mind reminds them of the hurt they hold
their heart grows bitter
it is the vengeance that keeps them hurting

Forgiveness is their escape
but they fear forgiving will
allow a repeat of the moment that brought the hurt
that the offender may believe that it's alright with you
but the forgiveness is not for them
it is a letting go of all that has caused your hurt
and robbed you of your happiness
forgiveness is for you

****, that music is so important to me
but then, so is my hope that one day
the attitude of violence
will disappear from the face of the earth

So many crayons
Colors chosen fill the lines
My past in the books

The cloud entered
along with it rain
a time full of trouble
filled with sorrow and pain.

Heartache and tears
filling my days
stealing my joy
in so many ways.

The days became long
as if with no ends
it was an awful aloneness
as if without friends.

But true friends did exist
helping me make each tomorrow
till that cloud did move on
and ease this deep sorrow.

Well the new day brought hope
as the son warmed my soul
my heart finally was healed
and once again I felt whole.

I drank in new life
my voice found
cried out simply to be fed
food for my bellies
activity to build my body
knowledge to nourish my mind

The feeding
often sweet
delivered times filled
with wonderful moments
and marvelous people

There were times the flavor
left a bitter taste
a feeling of aloness crept in
a time where I felt nobody cared
whether I was alive or in the grave
backs turned toward me

Depression
such a lonely place
empty of the one most important food
love

I looked upon the spot where that old tree stood
So many memories of days spent in her shadow return to me
The relief from the cruel sun of summer
The moments of relaxation lying in her shade
The changes as the seasons came and then passed
Green leaves gave way to the colors
The colors disappeared leaving the beauty of the branches behind
Snow and ice took their turns visiting
How the ice would shine
It was as if my tree was covered with diamonds
Then the thaw
The budding
The new leaves
And the shade would once again return
We had many a picnic under that tree
There came a year where the bud did not return
then a second year
But now she's gone
She is no more
Now I am warmed by her
As I rest watching the glow in the fireplace
And the shadow she casts
Contains fond memories

Tearing down nations
there's more than one way
from the outside or in
it's the game that they play

There are times they use rockets
that **** folks where they land
other times it's the rhetoric
that bury their own under sand

Whether rockets or rhetoric
in this game politic
it's the innocent who suffer
our leaders are thick as a brick

This write is a lesson
intended for me
a reminder of sorts
of the way I should be

No target intended
it's not about you
unless that you find
this is something you do

My time being wasted
I  return to spend more
with this one little wish
to even the score

To force you
into wasting your time
in a childish argument
by crossing the line

One with no last word
no truce to be found
repeating the same comments
till they're run into the ground

We move on to insulting
and give it our best
when the revenge of choice
should have been to give it a rest

I should be spending my time
going on with my life
than to fill every moment
riddled with strife

This not about you
it's all about me
not looking for payback
it's the way I should be

I've been told there is a canon
a set of rules you say
but in this year of 2015
so many have gone away

Forget about the meter
to hell with punctuation
for in this land of poetry
there is a brand new nation

There are those who don't want this to change
and for purity they do strive
please go on stick to canon
and keep your craft alive

But no two people are the same
we all have different tastes
and when a reader hates all one writes
it's his own time he wastes

Not everyone is out there
looking for that classic write
you see today it's like the outback
there are no rules, just right

Home for Christmas
I don't remember the last time
he's been away so long
sure he's been home for visits
they've been great
but seldom around the holidays
he's so much more of a man
than 22 years ago
seems we have to get to know each other
I can't imagine a better gift
than to have my son home

December 26th, 2015
how strangly empty the sites I visit are
no-one seems to be around
my first thought
the folks I normally see
they've received gifts that they didn't like
now they're at the stores
returning them
exchanging them
to meet their own desires
I know it's allowed
it's also pretty common these days
it seems that there's just no appreciation
not for the givers anyway
I guess those days are gone
it's the thought that counts
isn't very popular anymore

I see him
he's different
my judgment
misleads
for I repeat to myself
the words of another
the words of the bigot
who taught me

He knows not of my mind
I have not spoken
my beliefs aloud

He does not see
the darkness
within my heart

Why is it
that he can continue on
with a smile
while I harbor
a feeling of distrust
because of our differences

If we had been allowed
to be thrown together
while we were children
we would never have known
that there was anything
different to judge

My judgment
has destroyed
the man that I
was supposed to be

Forward
yet without direction
empty of purpose
empty of life
the spirit has left
my heart aches for love
does anyone care
it doesn't show
but how can I know for sure
if I don't look back
there is this feeling
that their eyes follow
do they watch as I pass
are they looking at me
or beyond to a destination of their own
are we all on the same path
has everything I have known
we've known
become a pit filled with nothingness
a complete void
that swallows any who dare desire
I long for a companion
one to pull me back from this vortex
maybe then this trek might seem tolerable
maybe then this darkness will abate
maybe then I can once again live

His rule was iron ******
his subjects lived in fear
his wife and children hated him
no-one dared draw near

His knights remained quite loyal
defending all his land
while living in the shadow
of the executioners hand

It was as he had no subjects
it was a feeling very strange
in all his land and not a single soul
with a smile to exchange

He traveled his kingdom and found no love
depression mounted with each mile
with one desire upon his heart
my kingdom for a smile

They speak
never listen
their world
crumbling
understanding
nonexistant
their minds
closed
it must be
their way
without waver

They speak
never heard
their world
crumbling
their needs
ignored
their hearts
distressed
their way
no longer
represented

Judgment enslaves
living for that approval of others
denying our individuality
we put our self on the shelf
going out of our way
to escape their frown

we live in stress rather than comfort
the means to the end of their desires
becomes burdensome

why trample over my own desires
am I not worthy
of a life of joy
to be happy
should not my filling come first

how can I lift the spirit of another
when my own spirit
has become buried
beneath the judgment I am a slave to

please be not presumptuous to judge
not all are intended to walk your path
we must all find our own way

There once was a Christmas at home
as kids we four spent it alone
see my mom broke her nose
as she tripped over her toes
and the truth of old Santa made known

The sky still blue and spacious
our fields grow golden grains
snow capped mountains
are still viewed in placid reflecting pools
fruits and nuts are upon our trees
but as for brotherhood between the seas
the good has become harder to find
our light has dimmed

They came seeking relief from religious oppression
only to convert and pervert what they found
their freedom meant
the abolishment of the ways of
the new world they had come to
with violence and death
taking more land
there was no self control
no liberty
no real law other than
might made right
for the new people did not honor their god
and were deserving of death

These were not heroes
they did not liberate the peoples of this new land
they showed no mercy
there was nothing noble or divine in their treatment
not of the peoples
nor of the lands that they found

They had a dream
of great alabaster cities
built them
but today
these are filled with empty dilapidated buildings
the homeless
and the violence that built them
tears run down the cheeks
of mothers and fathers losing their sons and daughters
tears are shed by the victims
of the religious extremism that was seeded in those early times

How can we continue to sing America The Beautiful?

Stuck in the box
a steel trap of a mind
when rusted shut
a man falls behind

Our language is wicked
when with one single word
so many meanings can vary
with the way they are heard

For the mind that is closed
understanding's a chore
but once it is open
it can perceive so much more

Thirsting for blood
expecting a flood
when the turnip goes dry
their greed does not die

no the blood from a turnip
is never enough
it must be ground to a pulp
it's a treatment quite rough

we're put through the mill
which is never a thrill
with too little pay
so they might have their way

but somehow we survive
although barely alive
as they leave us a crumb
no they're greed is not dumb

the field has been plowed
they've planted the seed
from our pockets they'll harvest
the next crop of their greed

what does it matter
whether they come for your money
or they come for your blood
the fact that they come
speaks of a dark heart
they are the takers
they've no wish to share with us
only leaving enough seed behind
to ensure another harvest

our money and blood
the sweat of our brow
they depend on it
they demand our loyalty to their cash cow
while seeing us as fodder for their cannons
they thirst ever for more
never satisfied with the hoard
they've already amassed

those who stand in their way
they're expendable
the rich get richer by the day
our cost to live
continually endangered
oh how the plutocrat loves to hold his third world ransom

that is what we are becoming

we are their stepping stones
and once we are used to cross a river
bringing the takers to greener pastures
we are no longer needed
there will always be more stones
that they can throw into the waters

we are no more than bridge material to their next fortune
once crossed to be thrown away
they'll not need our bridge a second time
they never look back and care not
for the rubble they leave behind

I had no dog in the hunt
but I kept score anyway
at least I though I was
I believed that the numbers of the fallen
ours and theirs
was the score of war
the body count kept increasing
more soldiers were sent
when that war died down
another began
once again the thoughts of
'who cares, I don't have to go'
came back
once again I began counting bodies
the cycle kept repeating itself
I began to notice
so many former soldiers
disabled
homeless
more dying of suicide
than in the wars they fought
while the military industrial community
continued to feed their coffers
by the blood of the fallen

What was the score again?

I seem to have lost count.

You must wake to their lies
unto the truth
and it must be done
during the days of youth

for those who wait
until days of old
will find that their heart
has been grown as a mold

kept in the dark
and living in shadows
always afraid
to look out their windows

denying the violence
accepting the wars
and avoiding the truth
they've become cold hearted ******

Their minds are closed
hearts grown cold
their killing continues
as they grow old

Fueled by their hate
what I find as odd
is that these terrorists ****
in the name of their god

Extremism *****
whether religion or bucks
as at the end of the day
it's the common people who pay

The narrowness of understanding
it exists in all of us
a mind shut tight as if it were a rusty trap
with no desire for oil
denial that there is more to life
than their view
statements made carry consequence
many words
many meanings
often understood to fit an individual
then believed by another differently
each to fit their needs
neither is totally right
nor are they wrong
they are just different
how it can take so little of a difference to become
the seeds of conflict

Blinded by their hatred of others
taught them by those with an equally vile past

If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god

Is this how the extremists share the love of their god
would not a god desire converts to choose him
yet those who would proselytize
offer fear and punishment as their incentive

If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god

You think I speak of Islam
no, it is all of the Abrahamic peoples
you say, no not us
but it continues within all three branches
today we see the focus on Islam
while we ignore the Zionist movement
we complain, what has this to do with Christianity
while hiding our eyes from Bangui
in the Central African Republic it is Christians killing Muslims
because they are Muslims

There is no need to travel to see the evidence of this hate
the bombings of abortion clinics
the ****** of doctors who perform abortions
proves the hate is right here at home
and there are those who celebrate the deaths
of people who do not believe exactly as they do

If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god

We hear the voices of the extremists
calling for the deaths of the non believers
so many seek that eye for an eye
choosing to remain blind in their hate

Why is it that even within each leg
those known as Sunni cannot get along with the Shiite
Protestants and Catholics war with each other
the Semites of Israel and Palestine continue to battle
when their roots are all found
in the same servant of their god

Ideology ***** when it drives people to **** each other
all their books condemn killing
while at the same time justify killing the non believer
in the name of their god

There is no glory in this

How their god must weep
how he must wish them to rid themselves of their books
and live in peace with each other

If you're not like me, some day you'll be
or perish for your denial of my god

justifying the war
because we're the good guy
and putting down evil
is our reason why
is ignoring the fact
that our enemy
believes they're the good guy
fighting the evil they see

The seven seas
the human race
their waters are one
we share the same life giving blood
they have different names
we come in many colors
they are separated by continents
we are separated by religion
these differences
do nothing to change that fact
that they remain one water
and we are one human race

they were no more than little green plastic soldiers
outfitted with rifles and ammo belt
as a child they were set up as to be in battle
the foe was unknown
it was just how we played
what fun it was to pretend army

the cold war was waging
the threat of missiles
Russian missiles so close to our own shores
being launched from Cuba brought fear
we were still young and didn't really understand the danger
we continued to play army
marching with sticks we pretended were rifles
ready to take cover in the shelters we made in the vacant field
we were still having our fun
playing army

now grown up
many of my generation sit in congress
they still have their toy soldiers
they're no longer green
the weapons no longer resemble the rifles of our youth
and the toys they play with
are no longer plastic
they continue to put them to battle in other lands
they are still having fun
playing army

Abstract poetry
requires a man to think
lazy minds grow strong

when perfectly clear
I've no reason to think
a mindlessness that I fear
stagnation does stink

I've no reason to think
give me my abstract
stagnation does stink
give me my mind back

give me my abstract
it serves me quite well
give me my mind back
set me free from this hell

it serves me quite well
to answer questions I find
set me free from this hell
and open my mind

the ability to think
this mindlessness that I fear
can be too often the case
when things are perfectly clear

I want my own answers
that way they'll be mine
so don't worry yourself
I'll be perfectly fine

Nonsense they say
that I never make sense
and then write a book
in their crude elegance
it's for a work they dislike
and just don't understand
seems to read twixt the lines
they simply have no command
they need things spelled out
made as clear as a bell
if I don't get it right quickly
they'll be raising more hell

The promise of closure
there ain't no such thing
even when justice is served
it don't lessen the sting
when your child has been murdered
it isn't something
you ever get over
or quench the burning

The promise of closure
it's all one big lie
the loss is forever
you still question why
memories return
you again start to cry
shedding tears from within
of a never ending supply

The nights of my life
that morphed into days
tired body and mind
in so many ways

to rise from the bed
not rested at all
seemed to promise me daily
an additional fall

my spirit now broken
my energy gone
these sleepless nights
they've gone on too long

I don't want to work
it's become a struggle to live
the hungry faces keep coming
and I have no more to give

across this world children starving
and I don't understand why
with the government's riches
hungry kids have to die

Am I not my own man
secure in my own beliefs
there are those who try and enter my life
having the sole purpose of changing me

why do people let others tell them
who they are supposed to be
how they're supposed to act
and who their friends can be

somebody once said
to impersonate is the sincerest form of flattery
but should I surrender who I am
for their need to feel noticed
to feed their ego

these people are like pictures of insecurity
they've not grown into their own individualism
they've become carbon copies
of others from their past
people they consider to be their heroes
rather than becoming their own person

they now wish to be the hero of another

no, I will walk my road
there may be many different paths through life
but for me the one I'm on
is the one I must travel
it will be the influence of this road that will mold me

I've grown to really like who I've become
I think I'll continue to be my own man

Encompassed in darkness
the light of day unseen
the years passed in a hole of lies
this faith is not my own
if it were
I could find joy
but there is only darkness
a spirit that has no life
birthed by false hope

The negativity of those men
the ones who seek  power
to hold control over others
their words were so inviting at first
those words are no longer so
today they bring a loneliness
a longing
for the days of innocence

I ask myself why
why have I slept so long
why have I walked through life
with my eyes wide shut

The inadvertent excavation left a hole
it seemed large enough to swallow the world
people said not to worry
it can be filled in again later

with the loss of a child
later never comes

Those wonderful colors
almost black on the edges
the transition to a rich chocolate brown
becoming transparent as it moves toward gold
then yellow
that beautiful morning beverage
being poured from carafe to cup
I hear the voice of Joe Cocker
“You are so beautiful to me”
“You're everything I'd hoped for”
“Everything I need”

Good Morning World

My right eye
lost to glaucoma
self pity took my heart
the days were long
the question was always
why
why me
a constant mood of darkness
my attitude was sour

it's strange how a person can change
totally change for such a small disability
so small compared to those who have lost both legs
so small compared to those who become paralyzed
so small compared to if I had lost both eyes

it was those thoughts that brought me back
losing one eye was little
a minor inconvenience
mostly just a loss of peripheral vision
that and my depth perception leaving me
within that six to eight foot distance it was strange

life was changing for me again
it was night and day
from sour to sweet
the self pity was gone
what I had was far greater than what I had lost
I was immediately able to appreciate what I still had
no more did I rue the loss
I began to realize
there was beauty in the world
that I had never seen before

Congress acts so stupidly
with a lack of common sense
no longer working for the people
money grabbing for two more pence

Once they've been elected
treat voters as who cares
let them eat cake is what they speak
after all, they've been given theirs

Some speak with words reminiscent of flowers
while others blunt with bare naked truth
the one tends to tickle the ears of the people
while the other is deemed quite uncouth

these words they offer when spoken so soft
lull the people to sleep
the speakers pretend to act like they're shepherds
treating the people like sheep

with the smell of their flowers that's hiding what's real
leading the listener to a false comfortable feel
carefully protecting what it is they conceal
what they really do offer is just a raw deal

wake up people
all they want is more power
if you don't read twixt the lines
there's a danger to flowers

He wore his pants below his buttocks
I guess he musta had an itch
you wonder if he realizes
it's the sign of a prison *****

Awake
on the right side of the dirt
what could it hurt
to open my eyes
before me a picture
one of sadness
the homeless
the working poor
the children with dirt upon their faces
in tattered clothing
I see distended bellies
malnutrition taking its toll

this is supposed to be
the worlds greatest nation

we see those who will not work
and there are those who can not help themselves
but it is the children who suffer most
they deserve better

I often wonder
and I know I wouldn't change things
could I stop the hurt inside
if I were to awaken on the other side

my opinion was questioned
my view then became clouded
are my beliefs now that of another
no longer do I have an understanding
nothing of this life path that has been set before me
can be seen
I feel as if I am now blind
my direction lost
there is no moving on from where I find myself
no longer do I know which way is forward

why is it some wish to mold everyone they meet
into a clone of themselves

Life
is meant to be savored
get up
go live