Like dark rain splashing across my skies,
These foaters blur my aging eyes.
And the ears aren't any better, see,
My hearing depends on a battery.
At times my tongue trips on your name;
At times the wrong word slips from my brain.
I find hairs where they don't belong,
And crepe skin hanging lose and long.
There's brown spots on my once clear skin,
This aging thing is the real sin.
I creak, I rattle, I leak and prattle,
Cause no one listens when I speak.
But,
Remember this.
I taught you how to use a spoon,
Sang good-night songs in your room.
Tucked you in, made you safe,
Made your home your go to place.
I sat you on your bicycle seat,
And ran behind you down the street.
I walked you to and from your schools,
Shared with you my secret rules.
And when the time comes that I'm gone,
You'll remember I wasn't all that wrong.

Will  daffodils dance near a lake?
Will Heaven still do battle with Hell?
Will you have an NHL?
Will a woman still count the ways she loves?
Will man have his place in love?
Will hawks replace the release of doves?
Noble savages won't be your theme;
Nor Idols leading  on the silver screen.
What happens if you can't dream
On starry, dark or moon-filled nights,
Where waves lap endlessly on your shore.
I worry about this, and so much more.

(There are millstones and nooses hanging loosely;
Rubber bullets hitting ruthlessly.
The mobs are crowding,
Mouthing uselessly)

Listen.
Watch.
Write it again.

Parents are your first teachers;
But if they were permissive,
Teachers have rules they follow through on.
If parents were too strict,
Teachers cut you slack.
If you fall, they may or may not pick you up.
If you were abused, they will report it,
Despite all your objections.
If you've been excluded, you're now in a class.
If you're really smart, they'll show you how much there is to learn.
If you're struggling, they'll show you how to learn.
If you're afraid, stand beside a teacher.
If you're a bully, you will confront your victims.
If you're in doubt, they'll search you out.
If you're cocky, they'll trim your spurs.
If you're lonely, they have room.
If you need solitude, they have a room.
If you're in love, they know the season;
If you know hate, they know the feeling.
When you compete, they're in the seats.
When you're sad, or conflicted,
Teachers listen.
They taught Moses, Jesus and Mohamed,
Yes. Teachers beget teachers.
They instructed Socrates, Aristotle and Plato.
They put us in North America and on the moon.
They worked with Salk and Banting, Gates and Jobs.
Anyone can learn something.
They even taught our parents,
But not everyone learns.
Hey, Teachers, don't leave those kids alone!

Peeing's easy
When I traavel,
From five days to a week.
I can piddle,
While you fiddle,
Dancing down the street.

But things do change
When I roam
From five days to a week.
Suffice to say,
On those days,
My bowels work best
At home.

I am a stranger to you.
I may greetingly nod as we pass;
Or hold a door open as the line lengthens.
Big deal.
But I just want you to know,
You are real, an individual whom I know is worried.
Worried for the children.
Worried for our safety.
Worried for our shared state of affairs.
I know worry doesn't add one minute to our lives,
But not worrying can remove lives.
At the end of it all,
Are you okay?
I sincerely mean it,
Cause I know I'm not okay with all this **** drama,
Being played out... DAILY... HOURLY.
Burrowing into our heads like hungry worms.

"Excuse me," she said.
"Pardon me," he said.
"Certainly," so said, El Presidente.

They (and you know who I mean)
Claim (vociferously and accusatorily)
That
They (who lay their hands on and call on the Holy Spirit)
Are
Christians (funny to see that word in their lexicon).
They really do think that.
Is Christ that confusing,
Or
Is it Just Them?