Which side do you butter your bread on
Which side do you jelly your toast
Is it on opposite sides, the left or the right
Or is over and under the way you flow

Do you let the jelly smother the butter
Let the butter get under the breads skin
What we have here is classic paper, rock, scissors  
Which makes me wonder who's going to win

When it comes to these breakfast battles
It really doesn't matter to me
I look at my plate, cause I'm running late
So I pop in my mouth and chew up all three

Because there are no sides and
It doesn't matter what you believe
Or who you are
There is no left or right
We are all feel the same
Maybe a little broken
Or flawed or angry
It is a respite and relief from pain
It is spoken from the soul and to the soul
And it is the only time
That I can be fully human

To be a poet of love songs
is far better
than a bard
telling of embellished battles
won
when in truth
all
was lost

Like drowning deep in quicksand.
I'm slowly going down without a chance of reaching you.
I've tried and tried.

It's hard to not care.
When deep feelings are there.
It's hard not to feel.
When you have been always there.

Slowly, I see you drifting always.
And I can't do a single thing.

Like a snail inching slowly along its path.
Knowing exactly which way they will go.
I'm not afforded that sense.
Cause you hold complete control.

Maybe, blame lies with me.
Maybe, blames lies with you.
I can't say.
I truly can't say.

I just know slowly you're walking away.

Whispers
     in alabaster ears
words unforgiving, unforgiven
      year after year after year.     
Whispered secret secrets.

      Laurel leaved lies of liars
traitorously spilling wine while
      tear after tear after tear
shed and shredded truth
      cut sharp with guile.

      Cloaked smiles kissing
hands of befriended strangers
      in strange lands lighting fires;
fire after fire after fire
       burning hatred blind to danger.
     
 Sentried angry glowers guarding towers
      o'er ever changing landscapes of desire
 hour after hour after hour.
      Come little child, take to your lips
a bitter taste of this our power.

r ~ 4/24/14

To me only she leaves it
In turn I leave it to her
In our hiding holes of habit
Things don’t move any far.

In this funny game
Consensus is scarce
In the fear of blame
Taking a decision scares.

She tells me it’s for you to decide
Ways to cut the rising bills
How to stop our savings’ slide
Still have two square meals.

I tell her in your hands is the rein
To check unneeded outflow
Find some ways to build a gain
Some savings for the future to show.

She retorts don’t say you’ve no clue
The way I manage the pence
What you bring can hardly accrue
Any surplus post expense.

Things go on like they did before
With us never reaching a deal
Yet our lives happily soar
The way we lovingly will.

some mate for life
some spawn prolifically
in a river of destiny
some drop their seed
on a passerby
never to return,
progeny never asks
why?
some whelp upon a pack
some just like to clone
some eternally are broken
most are left alone
after the act
there is no pact
or written dictates
we are all different creatures
all with similar animal traits

Welcome to my disease
I know I am not alone
strange thing is I am

My words are a playground
of thought, I skip through a
sentence and then as I write
faster so do I go, till I trip
a mistake is then known.

I run around chasing words
till a sentence I have formed,
then I rest, so not to mistake
to many words that I have formed.

I play some times in the dark
corners, where my words are
corrupted by  the darkness that
surrounds, wrote with emotion
that is wrote from the cold parts
of my soul.

I chase around a word, then its
hits me in the face so powerful are
these words, that they stun the paper
and then I write some more.

I play in this playground of
words, so much to do, so many
games to play in this world of
rhyme and sentences, so much
more writing to do..