Sometimes it gets foggy
and bad days come around too often
but just remember
Life is worth living

The only heart you've got
Is the remnants of the many you've devoured.
All the sugary snatches
You regretfully soured.
No regrets at all. Lets not be coy
Your no poet, no musician, just a boy.

A professor explained to me once
how there is a limited number
of possible designs for making
an arrow point function as intended.

You can't stick a round rock on a stick
and expect it to penetrate like a dart.

It has to be sharp and hard, yet light
to fly like a feather straight and true
to the heart. I said, you mean like love?

She said, yeah, like love, kinda like love.

She’s lovely and petite,
Long flowing blonde hair,
The target of constant
Unwanted attention,
The **** of many crude jokes.
Though you can’t deny it
There is a kernel of truth
To every stereotype.
Shallow. Yes she is shallow.
Shallow as the flood waters
Three inches deep, powerful
Enough to sweep your car
Into a watery grave.
Superficial. Yes she is superficial.
Superficial as the thin layer
Of paint on a Renoir or Monet
Colors translucent and divine
Deep and lustrous
Transporting the imagination
To a world of romance and joy.
Clueless. Yes she is clueless.
Clueless as Sherlock Holmes
As he solves a mystery as dark
And complex as any labyrinth
With nary a clue, save for a trail
Of breadcrumbs and a scent of
Gardenia.
Airhead. Yes she is an airhead.
An airhead like the thinnest of air
Atop the mighty Himalayas where
Holy men choose to transcend the
Mundane and commune with
Spirits subtle and ethereal and ultimately
Unknowable.
The world sees her beauty and perhaps
Only her beauty, but they are blinded
By their shallowness, superficiality,
Cluelessness and a brain wallowing
In the clouds of misty ignorance.
Therein lies the joke.

We all seek something strange so satisfy those adrenalized thrills..

Be who you want to attract,
Before you start "searching" for the right person,
Be the right person,
Find yourself,
Be comfortable with who you are,
Find happiness within you,
If someone is the only basis of your joy,
I'm afraid,your joy might be a mirage.

He kills her
he's a murderer

She kills him
she's a victim

trying to survive

her word against his
but he's dead

his word against her
still leaves him dead!

domestic violence
is not gender based!

It's gender biased!

We all to quickly judge
with haste

Those that are just trying
*to survive

George told me,
"ain't how long you live,
but how you live that counts"
strange he had clung to this
rock for double eights

and that he swore he'd jump
from a plane when he hit ninety, without
a parachute if he chose

those long linoleum journeys
when I wheeled him from his room to the dining hall
were the best part of my day

a minimum wage slave,
ending my graveyard shift
watching one after another leave
a thousand different ways

he called me "brown sugar"
I took no offense, for colored girls get deaf to such
jabs before we get bras

I knew, from him,
it was a term of endearment
since his red blood had earned
him ****** names like "Charlie Chief"
and "Drunk ***** Joe"
long ago

he told me grabbing melons
along the Pecos beat cotton picking
on the prison farm, and I never asked
how he came to know either

he said his squaw
was dead some forty years
his own trail of tears since
would never dry

no children had lived
to become great warriors
or proud princesses, though
he never said why

when I would leave George
at his table, the end of our daily stroll
he would bless his eggs with words
I didn't know

those who shared the table
sat mute and chewed their cud
as I walked away, I would never fail
to wonder, if I could find
a plane and pilot

You know well before,
You say anything at all,
It will make it worse