Dad made a kite
Out of paper and wood
And a white, ripped up sheet for a tail.
We all watched with wonder when without any wind
He could make his kite rise up and sail!
The trick, he would tell us
Is to run just a bit, then let the string play out just so.
There is wind up above us that you cannot see
It will make the kite rise up and go.

Up went his kite
High up over the trees
And soon it was up with clouds.
It dipped, skipped and twirled as he tightened his rein
“It’s DANCING!” we shouted out loud!
The kite, he would tell us
Responds to your touch, don’t hold it too loose or too tight.
Be forgiving, yet firm, let it fly by itself
And most times it will turn out all right.

Dad gave the kite
To the youngest child there,
And the rest of us waited our turn.
The kite soared, then collapsed; our confidence too
Dad taught; we attempted to learn.
Life, he would tell us
Is like flying a kite, you hold on but you cannot control.
Don’t let a failure or lack of success
Stop you from reaching your goal.

Be like the kite
Reach as high as you can
Set your goals high, and dance with the clouds!
Respect and remember the wind you can’t see.
It’s your Faith that will make others proud.
Faith, he would tell us
Is the courage to fly, and belief in a Presence unseen.
But most of all Faith is the strength to go on
When your kite gets stuck high in a tree.
PwL 3/30/15

You lose a job
the lover you tied your life with drifts elsewhere
the place you grew root seems not home anymore
the days are vacuous and nights a crawler
your head echoes with the deafening groan

I deserve no love, even from me.

Surely it’s the worst portrait you drew of yourself
and an erroneous one.

The job was filling your purse but emptying your purpose
the lover was no fairy but a fair weather friend
the home was only a harbor you anchored before sail.

There’s a world at your doorstep begging your attention
withering without your love.

Pick up and hold them to your breast
see how quickly unburdens your chest
your spirits soar.

From thence you would never cease
to love yourself from the core!

I'm drunk on Rebellion bourbon,
and I can't help but think,
what a ******* brand name man!
Coming from a cynical, sadistic,
sometimes near maniacal *******,
That's the kinda **** I wanna hear.
Start the rebellion!
******* A right I will.
I'll down this bottle and go off into the night,
my teeth sharpened
and a razor under my tongue.
A bottle full of gasoline,
a pocket full of matches.
I'll set fire to the village,
and watch as the fire dances.
Burn mother *******!
Then I'll hit the bar,
the next town over...
Continuing my little mission,
I haphazardly target victims,
Then incinerate 'em with powerful words,
If I fail to defile minds I'm setting teeth to curb.
Eventually the police will show,
too late.
I've already slipped out the backdoor
and skipped town.
Confident that I can start a riot before I pass out.
I figure eventually on me these crimes they'll try to pin it.
I'll sit back uncommonly calm and tell 'em the bourbon did it.

I opened the door this afternoon,
stepped onto the porch.
Greeted by a bleak and cold wind,
I lit a cigarette.
There I stood looking up at a dead sky,
shades of grey that smother the sun.
Thoughts growing dark,
in kind.
Out of this void there rose,
a melody.
Simple.
Tranquil.
"God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman"
Played as though it was just for me.
And as the church bells rang on their somber tune
I thought,
"Perhaps, it's not all so bad."