He told her he was the sky,
That he owned the stars,
And the sun, his eye.
She laughed,
Smiling at his ocean eyes,
And knew that he was truthful.

Now she looks up and sees the face
Of the one she first loved.

been listn’n to poets
for ten or twelve weeks
ten or twelve weeks
ten or twelve weeks
been listn’n to poets
to hear what they speak
hear what they speak
hear what they speak
been listn’n to lovers
as they open their hearts
open their hearts
open their hearts
been hearin’ the hatred
that tears us apart
tears us apart
tears us apart
been talkin’ to strangers
to tell how I feel
tell how I feel
tell how I feel
been talkin’ to strangers
to show them I’m real
show them I’m real
show them I’m real
been hopin’ and prayin’
that someone will hear
someone will hear
someone will hear
been hopin’ and prayin’
that the end is not near
end is not near
end is not near
been listn’n and hearin’ and talkin’ and prayin’
and hopin’ and seein’ and sharin’ and sayin’
and learnin’ and lookin’ and play’n and waitin’
and showin’ and growin’ and all the time knowin’
if I listen to others they’ll help me to see
help me to see
help me to see
if I listen to others they’ll listen to me
listen to me
listen to me.
Phil Lindsey, April, 2015

Everybody gets to be a winner
The greatest lie they ever sold to my generation
No ****
Who likes to lose?
But the biggest lie is that handing trophies out to kids
Makes them entitled
Everyone wants to win, the right way.
Competition is in the soul...
You can't take that from me
Sorry to burst your bubble
but competition is our soul
It's our
inalienable right
Whether we get a trophy to mark our season of playing
Or for our esteem it does not make me who I am.
In fact me and my generation don't compete for ******* pieces of Tin or Plastic
For us it's a different plane
Next time please do not point at a trophy
And sum up my(our) whole existence
You already had your shot.

I used to be able to forgot who I was
The easiest way was to stare at my hand
I was young
Nine or ten was the last time
After a while I would look away from my hand
and I would not know where I was or who I was
I would be fearful and magnetized
And question where I was,
Who I was.
I remember asking
"Is this real?"
"Whose eyes are these?"
Yes...eyes,
It was through rapid blinking that would bring me back
to life as I know it
I never knew what I was experiencing;
A seizure
A mystical experience
A temporary return
Whatever it was
I cannot go back
No matter how hard I try.

I've said goodbye at bus stops
In coffee shops, on planes.
In broken down hotel rooms
and in sudden summer rains.
I've said it without speaking
when I could not find the words.
In parking lots, at funerals
and to the song of birds.
When forced to without meaning it
I've even said it too,
but the hardest thing I'll ever do
is say goodbye to you.

I am a straw man,
strap me up and leave me alone.
All the day, my hollow gaze
may haunt your humble home.
I have no brain nor heart nor flesh,
nay, not a single bone.
I'm just a man of wicker,
meant to frighten off the crows.