Take what's left from out the portion
And give back to the day
Measured salt from the deepest ocean
So to season life in waves

Take all that's left of the righteous
And give to all the wronged
Take what's left over from the melody
And set to breeze a simple song

Take what little there is left of peace
For to soothe the worried soul
Take the answers to the questions
And share with those who do not know

Take what's left out of the moment
What's left from the memories
Take from out the calloused hand
And feed the ones in need

When you've taken out all that you can
And you feel there's nothing left
Sweep the floor beneath your feet
And take out even that

How can a hollow ache?
Or a poet write?
When the part that felt is cut away
Excised with a razor of reason
Bandaged with the dressings of the Sensible
To be healed, so it is said, with time
Yet like the morbid curiosity of the child who picks at the scab
Or perhaps more akin; the itch of an amputee's phantom limb
There is still an ache
How can that be so?
How can a hollow ache?
Or, come to that,
A poet write?

i want to bite
down,
on the word
and tell you the absolute
and dangerous truth.

that your bitterness,
has soured your
soul.

your famed stoicsism
has fled,
and most of
what you say, has become
a whine,
reedlike and annoying.


but i clench my fist,
against my thighs
and count to 97.

because,

you are my mother

and your life,
has been,
not exceptionaly
kind,

and at eighty five,
you may well be
entitled,
to luxuriate, in your pain.

but just,
sometimes,
could you do it  a bit
more quietly.
please....

What's the opposite of  Goodbye
Would your attention on that be grabbed
If you took out all the happy
Would you be left with sad
If there was a magic number
Could you count that high
If you lost what you do for a living
Would that cause you to die

These are some of the questions
That it is I've got
Oh, one more thing if you don't mind
Is that the opposite or not

With your head stuck in the clouds
Do you find it hard to breath
If you turned that frown upside down
Would a smile intercede
If you went out with the Butcher
Would the Baker still supply your sweets
If you dated the Undertaker
Would the afterlife come cheap

These are some random questions
That I have running loose
Wait a minute, here comes another
What's the opposite of truth

Is there an account on daylight savings
I can put interest in from my time
Should I have saved more of the day
And spent less on the night
Could I dilly dally in the stock market
And take it out in trade
Or buy a balloon in the shape of Johnny and June
And watch them float in serenade

Just a few of the questions
That I like to throw
By the way can you tell me
What's the opposite of  *Hello

Those that don't believe
Wonder what it is I see

In Jesus

Not unless you hear the call
Will you ever know for sure

Nor believe us

With this crippled soul
I want you all to know

He's not a crutch

But because he is the way
I will follow everyday

Out of love

I was once like you
Thinking that I knew the truth

And didn't need him

Then God stopped me in mid-run
Introduced me to the Son

Now I believe him

It took some time to realize
I was a pawn in Satan's lies

Who would have known

But now that I believe
Jesus is my greatest need

Welcome Home

My Mom and Dad done told me
Sister Sally said the same
This poetry writing day and night
Is getting out of hand

I'm always thinking of a new rhyme
It is that I can use
And when it comes to poetry
That's all I want to do

These days I'm getting nothing done
With my chores around the farm
When this poetry all got started
I didn't see any harm

Now the chickens are in the pasture
The cows are in the coup
Guess it was bound to happen
When you mix poetry in the stew

My teachers they done told me
The guidance counselor told me too
I'll never get anywhere in life
If poetry is all I want to do

Now I no longer do my homework
And I no longer go to school
No need for Arithmetic or History
When all I want is poetry

Cause that's what it is I'm good at
Pretty much that and nothing else
Just give me pen and paper
And poetry is what comes out

So as I go about my business
Working the rhythm into the rhyme
Leave me and my poetry be
Can't you see we're doing just fine

Toothache and heartache.
Potatoes and beer.
Bald head, fuzzy beard
And a world in-between us.
Dogs with no owners
Must beg for their food.
The cats are a crying
And you listen to them.

Blue sky, blue ocean.
Horizon is vacant.
Never again to smell your sweet scent.
Thousands of miles
Have stolen you from me.
Time to remember
You’re not even there.
Dug from the earth
The flower of our wild love.
Planted in a ***
And it died in 11 days.