i want my hands to play
the role of the cradle to your cranium
while my lips play the protagonist
and yours will be the love interest
the conflict consists of lack of breath and sore jaws
five minute recess and then action

In the world we are living in, it's hard to bring out your best.  People seem to provoke you, so you can't past the test.
In the world we are living in, we are forced to pay so many bills.  You sit back and wonder, when will they ever yield?
In the world we are living in, within there is a loud scream.  If only someone can listen, if only you can be seen.
In the world we are living in, there is so much stress.  Don't allow it to cause you depression, get rest and try to worry less.
Don't let stress get you down, you are worth more than that.  Somehow, learn to be happy, refrain from becoming upset.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing

The sun went down hours ago
& it took forever for the moon to rise
on his little part of the world.
He heard the cries of the fallen,
those destitute of hope,
he saw their hidden glory,
the beauty of their heart,
he knows about pain,
his he felt.

It is indeed cold,
no breeze blows &
a stillness has settled,
the starless night awaits him.
Long and hard he has thought
about the meaning of allegory,
wondering about truth,
the changing of the tides.
No longer is he in need,
to hide is to show weakness,
kindness is his strength,
he shall not want again.

He has packed his bags for the journey,
there will be no more dedications,
the silence invites him,
comforts him,
he's not coming back.

There were no friends there,
everything was an illusion,
the kinship topical.
He figures to move south,
embrace the subtropical,
fish the shoreline,
nobody will miss him
or even kiss
the ground he walks on.

He's good with that.

Tony Lama nights
Lone stars and ***** tonk bars
Don't you mess with her

In dark dreams
I walk again
those empty
hospital corridors

with their dull lights
and smell of disinfect
and death
in those dreams

I look for you again
my son
passing by
the blanks faces

of others
looking at
their eyes
for glimpses of life

or concern
or such  
as humans
sometimes have

I go by
room after room
pass porters
pushing

the occasional trolley
by the various
side wards
passing by

the bright lights
of hospital shops
in the dream
I am hoping

to find you once more
sitting there
on the bed
your back turned

your head lowered
but this time
I am hoping
for a healthier you

my son
not one so ill
so lost
in this dream

sunlight shines
through the window
of the small ward
a bird sings

not that dull curtain
the murmur
of voices
the usual limbo like

air about the place
this time my son
I wish to find you well
looking at me

with your own
familiar smile
not that haunted
expression

and tired eyes
that draw from me
a steam
of deep felt cries.

You, sir, are remiss.
I am not your
"Babe," your "sweetie,"
And I'm most certainly not
"Silly."

A reconsideration of
Our "relationship" is
Obviously in order.
You're too forward, sir.
Back the **** up.