I do not want to be a poet
it is too hard because
it is too easy
excuse the confusion
what I mean to say is
anyone can write poetry
good poetry is provocative
but think about it

thoughts are provocative
words are provocative
living a prerequisite for both of these things
IS PROVOCATIVE
to live is to experience
to experience is to have stories
and to share those stories
is to be a poet

the saying goes
if you put a team of monkeys in a room
for an infinite amount of time
you will eventually acquire all of Shakespeare's writings
but then again
keep the monkeys in the room for just a minute
and you'll leave with something
that at least resembles poetry

So why write?
why put pen to paper,
finger to key,
or even thought to mind?
Because if I don't no one will
I mean they "will" but not like I can
because although everyone is a poet
I am the only me

WARNING: Some People Don't Care
WARNING: People Are Not As Close As They Appear

Fingers so beautiful and precious.
They are priceless!

Worth more than diamonds and gold.
Fingers float above a river of piano keys,
Fingers play music that sounds sweeter than bird's song.

Fingers so beautiful and precious.
They are priceless!

God sends His glory of song to these fingers.
Fingers play with much love and devotion for God,
Fingers battle summer's Cicada hum and afternoon fatigue.

Fingers so beautiful and precious.
They are priceless!

Worth more than diamonds and gold.
Fingers of mystery; which bring light, hope and peace to all.
Fingers accept the challenge of writing new song.

Fingers so beautiful and precious.
They are priceless!

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

Thinking of my Guardian Angel Today,

I write these words today, for a very special you,
Thinking of you night and day, I always pray,
Your bright soul brings sunshine every day.

When I first met you so long ago.
In that heavenly place.
This day was the first time we said 'Hello.'
I found an unbelievable beautiful soul.

How beautiful you are in an Angel's dress.

When your soft and kind hand warmed my cold face,
You said to me, “I am sorry we can not be together in this place.
Our Father has a mission for you in another place.
I will always watch over you when you travel to that earthly place.
Let us never say farewell and goodbye.”

On this beautiful calm clear day.  Not a rain cloud in the sky,
Looking up at Heaven thinking of an Angel in a white dress.
A warm tear drop of rain falls upon my face.

I knew you were guarding me in this place.

Let us never say farewell and goodbye...

Copyright © Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

Blue is the color of the dragon-winged girl,
The color of the girl whose life was lost.
Blue is the color of the deity girl,
The color of the one who wouldn't pay the cost.

Teal is the color of the water-loving girl,
The girl who lead into a new world.
Teal is the color of the frightened-eyed girl,
The girl who into a new life was hurled.

Grey is the color of the logical girl,
The color of the girl who teaches demons how to love.
Grey is the color of the snake-tongued girl,
The color of the boy who thought he was above.

Green is the color of the story-telling girl,
The color of her brother who would fight and **** to own.
Green is the color of the blind and mute child,
The color of those who may have yet to be known.

Orange is the color of the reckless girl,
The color of the girl filled by desire,
Orange is the color of the samurai man,
The color of the man filled with fire.

Red is the color of the five-fold girl,
The color of the demon at the core.
Red is the color of the half-vampire,
The color of the one who wanted more.

Purple is the color of the plaid-skirted girl,
The color of the feral demon child.
Purple is the color of the girl who lived in the sky,
The color of the eyes that watch the wild.

White is the color of the once-afraid man,
The color of the child who never got to have a say.
White is the color of the defender in the skies,
The color of the one who took her own life away.

Black is the color of the white-pawed cat,
The color of the girl who shows one their mind.
Black is the color of the silhouetted man,
The color of the world they left behind.

Exhausted with existence,
I miss the days when I,
So joyed with this existence,
Grabbed the days as they flew by.
Each one, a thousand colors
On a million butterflies,
Quickly rose up into smoke
On a gold-to-ashen sky.

Disenchanted with reality,
I miss the time I spent
Thinking no moment was worth wasting,
For now I do resent
Each and every moment
I spend in this dull land.
In this land, now disenchanted,
Nothing's quite so grand.

I long to spend another day
Glad to be alive,
Where everything I hear
Becomes a reason to survive.
And I long to see that day
When these bitter feelings end.
World, you don't deserve it...
Can't we go back to being friends?

A hundred emails never read
From years ago, but still I dread
To take a look at this old book
Of all my cold detachment.
"Subject: FW: FWD: FWD: FW..."
I never even checked
And that is why they left me behind
And our relationships are wrecked.

Twenty texts I didn't answer
And you got the idea
I didn't want to be there for you
That's not true.
I wanted to be, but I failed.

Five messages I never saw,
But here they are, and still
I'll say nothing - I'll only watch,
And as I do, I ****
The friendship that we had.

Three calls went unreturned
Though I recognized the number.
I knew who you were, I just forget,
And I let this all go under.

Two performances I missed,
And two of you were there.
They ask you how it went
While I ask you "when and where?"

One letter I have failed to send,
It's the one I regret most:
I still have that letter in childish handwriting,
And to loneliness I am host.

Zero people left
Who have any reason to trust me
One person left
To remind me it's my fault
Two people left
To remind me of their trust
Three people left
To tell me I'm forgiven
Five people here
To be there even though I wasn't
Twenty people out there
Who've already forgotten
A hundred people beyond
To prove that life goes on.