He passed in double yellow
Like he was heading to a fire
Really nothing to you
Yet it provoked your righteous ire

Would it make a difference
If you felt the fiery flames
Watched a simple man's dreams
Consumed in a flippant blaze

Would it make a difference
If you saw his baby trapped inside
Or counted the tormentous days
'til his agony would subside

That waitress was a little rude
Like she wasn't really there
She just found her husband cheating
And she's aware that no one cares

Her heart is shattered inside
But she tries to paint on a smile
The darkness is overcoming
Her future bleak and vile

Could it make a difference
To someone lonely, hurt, and lost
If we measured our words and actions
And we stopped to count the cost

Fell heal over heads
          in love with a poet,
  he's mostly a rhyme schemer
       likes Poe and his dark Raven,
  in actuality,  I'd fancy him more if
    he were like Pablo Neruda, but I digress
I'm much accurately fashioned after Emily Dickinson
        chasing heaven's June bugs toing and froing,
we'd meet at a perfectly superfluous coffee shop
    he'll be murmuring elegiac pentameter
I'm simply looking to devour precious words,
    we'd argue about abstract destinations,  
            straight forward persuasions and
               premonitions of wayward ink allusions,
some days I want to claw mine own eyes out
               amid all that nonsensical alliteration
  others, I want to rip out embellishments
                   of his black heart's magnification,
he mutters tumult under his breath,
     states he's abundantly sickly tired of all my
         fanatical froufroutant  flourished fantasies,
albeit, we're mild mannered artistes
         of overstatement and simplification
               thus, we continue laying it on thickly
I, with my hyperbolic cuppa tea and honey,
       he's all brass tacks, no nonsense black coffee
ultimately, we reservedly seek gratification,
      envisioning who functionally makes it first
to a finished line of manifestations's publication,
           in eternity's poetic intentions and beyond

no law condemns the sovereign heart
nor pulls the puppet strings of love
left lonely, one man is only half
and Lawless is his middle name

soldiers of grace exalt her fate
love's empire undone
damaged hearts like near-dead stars
spit and spark and groan

spit is sweet add ripe revenge
mine is the honey-laden mouth
which drips with sweat of sword-ish tongue
and breathes the breath of lesser men

©Jason Cole

hey there little baby where's your Daddy's knee?
you don't have to be there, you can sit with me
wouldn't that be fine? could we try and see?
i feel you hurtin' inside of me
i know he left your Mama lonely
and your little heart feels like a stormy sea

but Sarah, you're a lighthouse
i've been wanderin' all my days
been lost in this world
Sarah, you're a lighthouse
you've shown me the way
now we don't have to be alone anymore

it's kinda funny how life is fair
i'm always movin', never really been anywhere
with nothin' behind me now i'm lookin' ahead
all things have passed just like the Good Book said
and after the rain the sun will shine
i feel it in my heart and in my mind

Sarah, you're a lighthouse
i've been wanderin' all my days
been lost in this world
Sarah, you're a lighthouse
you've shown me the way
now we don't have to be alone anymore

run and get Mama, give her the news
tell her we're leavin' - yeah, you too
tell her i love her and there's nothin' i won't do
we'll be a family, we'll start anew
you're gonna need a new dress and some shoes
you smile so pretty we can't lose

Sarah, you're a lighthouse
I've been wanderin' all my days
been lost in this world
Sarah, you're a lighthouse
you've shown me the way
now we don't have to be alone anymore

you're not alone, i'm not alone
you're not alone, i'm not alone
you're not alone, i'm not alone
we're not alone anymore

I think somewhere down the line in our parents' efforts to give us everything they never had, they forgot to give us what they Did have~

Grandpa had grit
He knew how to fight
Not for sport
but for that which was right

Up at dawn
His trade was life
Doing what he must
Dusting off strife

He'd say "It's just a reminder
that we're all still alive"
He'd just square back his shoulders
and cut Hell down to size

All but gone are the days
of men standing strong
Everything's grey
there's no right or wrong

We sit back and wonder
where our glory days went
I saw them galloping towards purgatory
saddled with truth, upon common sense