Of the two kinds of people, being:
those who walk in the Rain
and those who simply get wet,
which will you chose to be?

Let us not
look to
their shadowed
world and
feel apart.

For amongst
the low and
the lost,
deep beneath
the hurt.
Great thoughts
and true
emotions
often linger.

I stared hard at
the night.
Half drunk in
a public park
that was still so
alive with
happy memories.

As a boy I
dreamed of
becoming nothing.
Now all I long
to do is this.
The words are all so
dear to me.
They've kept me warm
as I laid in cold
jail cells and
cold hide a ways

I promised myself
to free myself of the stress
of desire and need.
And to in gulf
all of what is
left of me into
this.

Only in the dark
can one truly
see the shadow
of madness
that's always one
more drink
or one more failure
behind it all..

I used all of
whats hidden in
the night as a mirror
to the world.
Scattered images and
the sound of the
night bird.
Traces of all
that lays stark
still in the night.

I warmed myself with
the last of the bottle.
I felt the presence
of all that is left
of the wild and
untamed in the city.
The Elder trees
stood stone silent
in all of their
greatness.
A testament to
the strength
and will of nature.

I whispered thanks
to the sun even
though I
felt better without its
presence.

The sea crashed
and sounded
its rage against
the edge of the world.

And I sat drunk
and alone in a
public park without
any of the clueless
public anywhere
near.

The pauper’s bread is his philosophy
The affluent’s philosophy is bread
Though the pauper hasn’t a bread too many
His dog is always well fed!*

The joy of sharing he knows best
His bread he cuts into two
The pauper the vermin the nagging pest
At heart is the most well-to-do!

He knows the joy of togetherness
To divide from his scrap of bread
The pauper a slur on the human race
Sees his dog doesn’t remain unfed!

He knows he can’t do without this help
He is too alone on this ride
The pauper knows better than to live with self
Loves his dog on his side!

Impulse is one hell of a drug.