Worthless
They scream,
when it starts,
so it seems

Insignificant
Ignominy,
though you trust,
in your dream

Contemptible
How they cry,
how you act,
don't know why

Abhorrent
You believe,
what they yell,
lets you die

Detestable*
****** by brave,
****** by all,
Watch them watch,
watch you fall.

The other day
in the grocery line

I bought a pocket conscience
for a buck ninety-nine

Now everywhere I go
My conscience goes with me

So when I feel guilty
At least it's guilty cheap

hold on tight
to what little you see
cause it's soon not to be
what you assume it to be
if you have your doubts
on what to believe
ask the dust on the wind
floating by on the breeze

La de da
La de da de da

open your mind
take the lock off the door
take a bite of the apple
leaving the core
the needs that you have
you will need them no more
you push the button
i'll pull the cord

La de da
La de da de da

if everything's different
then why's it the same
as it collapses
at the feet of the sane
there's a certain freedom
to losing your name
the very same feeling
when memories wain

La de da
La de da de da

take out the first
the second and third
the forth one in line
will shine in it's worth
given in time
you might even unearth
the hidden rhyme
inside of this mirth

La de da
La de da de da

I think I hate myself more than you could ever love me

Such shame
Yet
Beauty in how
Well
You see it all
Fitting together
When the
Whole
No longer
Holds,
And breaks


A pa  r t.

Dear mr. Cole.
I allow myself
"Joe", with the deepest respect
For a man I barely know.
But I know...

You contain
Multitudes, no less than
Whitman. Supporting posting
Writers with the warmth
Of an all-loving Allfather; raining
And shining on seedlings sown
By poets of varying confidences.

Larger than any poet
Ever read
Is he who encourages writing.

Joe, yours is the hand that swats
The one that holds back the
Pen of the uncertain poet.

Your poetry reflects
Your garden, God's Creation,
The beauty within wild things
Growing...

And all that glory and grace
Of which you write,
My friend, our Joe.
Is all a mirror
Reflecting
Its beholder.