my Poems are not about me
if I were sunshine
            my poetry shines brighter
if I were thunder
            my poetry rumbles louder
if I were rain
            my poetry weaves into thin films of gossamer
                        and glistens around my edges

my Poems are not about me
when I write
            I separate a sparkly heartstring
                        from the rest
            thread it carefully into my needle
and hurry to weave a story embroidered with colored confetti
            and shimmering sequins

before the glitter
            like snow
            drifts
and sticks
            to the remainder
of my dull
honest
heart.

We come
We go
The pain we know
Of leaving the familiar
Faces
Places
Where traces of past life intention
Let us let go of false possession

Time is short
Do not resort to staying
For the slaying of our presence
Brings forth a new essence
Of progression
From past strife regression

I wish so hard I could split like knife
My body into miles of fragments
To serve the many that I love
Like a dole of doves
Raining peace from above
Now that is a future I see fitting
And so it will come

For when I am gone I will be but energy
The air you breath will cause our synergy
Where my hands fail now
They will touch your memory
And we do not forget

So let go
If this is true
Of what is not yours to take
For the universe will discover the way
Just as long as you surrender
And remember to say
I love you

A passel of rascals;
The cause of the hassle,
Guilty of the catcalls,
Would normally have pratfalls.
Never suffer from blackballing;
Their ethics are appalling
But greed is calling the shots.
In the end what have we got?

We have a den of thieves
Rolling up their sleeves
To count the loot they stole
Fulfilling their roles of criminals;
Not the least subliminal,
But right out front to be seen
And pictured on magazine covers
With their blow-dried lovers.

Hair and ******* by Mattel
They perpetrate their hell
On all but their rich buddies
And fool the fuddy-duddies
With their rancid ballyhoo.
Yes, they rob some rich too,
But some never knew it;
Rich, not smart, they blew it.

Every generation, this nation
Sires a new batch of vermin
And we have to determine
If this is the new litter or a loner
But instead the fools get a *****
Over some new crook or other
That can afford jet planes to fly
But claims he is a regular guy.

Once the country is a toilet
They’ll keep trying to spoil it
By boiling the bones of the dead
And murdering us in our beds
Because they don’t need us
Except when they want to beat us.
They can just pay each other.
But the country won’t recover.

Parallel thoughts like parallel lines carry similar veins of reasoning in almost identical directions.  Through this though separate we find unity.

I can say the right things
yet in the wrong time,
while I say the wrong things
in the right time.

You've loved them
enough to know,
- You'd lost.

He will always be your number one son
He will always be my mine too

You put the twinkle in his eye
You put the smile on his face
So have I

You’ve seen him laugh
You’ve seen him cry
So have I

You gave him life
A reason for living
So have I

You gave him kindness
You gave him love
So have I

You had the great joy
Of giving birth to a boy
So have I

You have shown him unconditional love
You have lived only for him
So have I

You see
We are not so different
You and I

Yes, we understand

From a child
To a man
The love of
A number one son