Hey come on , it's not that bad
I've heard it all, I know, you're sad
and not that I don't care to know
the reasons why you feel so low

but hey, come on, it's been a while
since anyone has seen you smile
it's not too late to throw the fight
to walk away, to sleep tonight

and give it all to God again
just leave it in His hands my friend
the biggest battle He has won
it's n'er too late to meet His Son

and Jesus Christ the Lord of Life
has made a way to ease your strife
to lift the burden, soothe your pain
He understands the human brain

because Creator of it all
was present there at man's great fall
away from God,  with freedoms choice
we could not hear his still small voice.

and born this way with tendency
to disobey and serve just me
God made a way to bridge the gap
to wake the sleeper from his nap

to make it right between the One
to ALL God's kids, He sent His Son
and through this Man, his sacrifice
this perfect lamb, He paid the price

He broke their law by healing folks
on Sabbath day He took their yokes
he bore their burdens, healed their lame
forgives the sinner, ends the shame.

and in His name I speak to you
whose sadness breaks your heart in two
whose troubles seem to suffocate
the longing for a better plate

the bread of Life, it is the Son
who said He and his Dad are One
and by his word,  and by his Spirit
the Way, the Truth, the Life, you'll hear it.

Turn to God just as you are
with all your hurts and every scar
He trades his life, in joy and love
for everything you're thinking of

the urge to sin, the stuff we do
our past, the hurt and anger too
is powerless, the fear will cease
because He lives, you'll live in peace

Hey Jesus come into my heart
and give me now a fresh new start
and heal my hurts, what' e're you find
and clear the cobwebs from my mind

Forgive the ones whose actions reaped
my soul's affliction deeply steeped
in misery from secret crimes
I've carried through these troubled times

In dungeon I was chained to sin
in darkness kept the secret in
and lies were told which broke my heart
I kept them all, despised my start

He says he knows my deepest pain
he's lived a life and felt the same
rejected from the very start
by those who could not know His heart.

Forgive them Father for they know
not what they do,  nor where they go
the sheep are lost and now are found
He's walked in fields upon this ground.

Inside my heart a field as well
I've sown some seeds which grew like Hell
and drew me out to places wrought
with misery, this was my lot

But now I'm found by shepherd who
has gone the distance, freed me too
by precious death from thorny vine
redeemed my soul and calls me "MINE".

Hey come on , it's not that bad
He's heard it all, He knows you're sad
already knows the reason why
because He lives, you'll never die.

Hey come on, it's really cool
the stuff He does,  He's no one's fool
This triune God,  His name Yah-hooed!
The Way the Truth, the Life, the Dude!

Another Epic God Poem. His love never ends either.

Something struck me out of the blue
and cut my dorsal fin
worst pain I'll say I ever knew
guess it's due for mess I'm in

Thankfully, I am just fine
next time I'll be more careful
to watch out for the fisherman's line
and try to be more prayerful

This one's not that into fish
though fish he did one night
caught me hanging out beside
his boat, to my delight.

He spoke to me as if I were
the chicken of the sea
and said some things I won't repeat
but took as flattery.

So play we did and had a ball
that fisherman and I,
I must say though, along the way
the man, he caught my eye.

He shared a couple of tales there
that I could scarce believe
'bout a women who had landed
that old heart upon on his sleeve.

Before the sun had set
I felt a certain sting of pain
he said, " if you were not a fish
I'd take you out again".

"I do appreciate the thought"
as I entertained the notion,
"so put me in some salt water here
or jump in to my ocean."

"I got a funny feeling",
said the fisherman, said he
"that if I were to take you out
you'd be too much for me."

It was then I got his number
I knew that line, you see
Been hooked perhaps a dozen times
and thrown back in the sea.

"The sunset's sweet and lures you, man,
I love that sugar stupor
but you're just a fast food ******
and will never ******* grouper."

"maybe you could wear this when you get back to your old self", said my mother, holding up a sweater she used to wear when she was her old self.

She reaches out for love but it eludes her
He spits her out but not before he chews her
she blames herself for his mistake,
for giving him a belly ache
no wonder why she's feeling like a loser.

and then one day she noticed she was slipping
the mirror never lies, she wasn't tripping
within her empty eyes she saw
the wear and tear had worn her raw
and tears behind the veil of shame were dripping.

Standing in the dim light of the morning
In want of something more of an adorning
she lifted up her golden hair,
and smiled though no one else was there
and realized she'd never heard the warning.

No one ever spoke of inner beauty
though the boys around her said she was a cutie
Daddy always wore the pants
but never asked his girl to dance
she learned her moves from guys who loved her ******.

Light music broke though silence of dead winter
Warm rays of sunshine thawed the ice within her
the local farmer loved his Lord
would never take, but could afford
and in his eyes, a pearl, and not a sinner.

She stands with him before the mirror now
her heart refreshed, she's seeing more somehow
the rounded apple of his eye
and no one else should wonder why
he bought the milk... because he loved the cow!

She reaches out for love but it eludes her
He spits her out but not before he chews her
she blames herself for his mistake,
for giving him a belly ache
no wonder why she's feeling like a loser.

and then one day she noticed she was slipping
the mirror never lies, she wasn't tripping
within her empty eyes she saw
the wear and tear had worn her raw
and tears behind the veil of shame were dripping.

Standing in the dim light of the morning
In want of something more of an adorning
she's lifting up her golden hair,
and smiles though no one else is there
and wonders why she never got the warning.

Though the boys around her said she was a cutie
No one ever spoke of inner beauty
Daddy always wore the pants
but never asked his girl to dance
she learned her moves from guys who loved her *****.

Light music broke though silence of dead winter
Warm rays of sunshine thawed the ice within her
the local farmer loved his Lord
would never take, but could afford
and in his eyes, a pearl, and not a sinner.

She stands with him before the mirror now
her heart refreshed, she's seeing more somehow
the rounded apple of his eye
and no one else should wonder why
he bought the milk... because he loved the cow!

Where are you?
I looked for you.... everywhere
but then, I noticed that you weren't looking for me
and well, it became embarrassing.

:)

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

She's your favorite pillow on a double wide recliner
or your front porch Adirondack with your early evening stogie
peace and quiet is the theme of your real life day-dream
the only noise you want to hear is from your 60 inch flat screen
with surround sound and remote, watching oldies you old goat,
Twilight Zone and Walking Dead, you've got Stooges in your head, and all the talkshows and the news  is in between

you're not hangry, you're not mean, Freedom understands your bean
with your crockpot full of chili you've been full since you've left Philly
and don't really need a maid around in fact the thought seems silly
you can cook and you can clean, you can work from home and preen
occupied  with daily orders and you like to clean your quarters
you've got all the latest gadgets you're not wanting for a house guest
since deliveries come daily  thank the UPS guy, Bailey
and by now you're feeling quite blessed
'cause the shipping on your stuff is mostly free.

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

On those days you're feeling needy, there's that lady at the counter
who knows you by your first name and the waitress with her smile
and the few words back and forth let's you know she recognizes you
remembers how you like your coffee since you come for breakfast weekly
and it's so nice to chat with Kathy for a while.

Who could blame you, loving freedom since she doesn't seem to take
but will fill your heart with pleasure never make your head to ache
never needing any comfort, never waiting at the table
after cookingup your favorite, never asking you to come home
from wherever else you're hanging never asking any questions
always free from expectations who could measure up to Freedom's wit and charm?

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

So called friends there on your Facebook clinging to your every word
as if coming from a guru when you're feeling like a nerd.
they applaud your sense of humor, all the items you are SHARING
and they LIKE the way you're looking and the way you that you respond
for your intellect is hooking and you're forming a close bond
over politics and reason, like your thoughts on this election
and the president and treason or the stuff that you've been cookin'
yeah, you've got a wife named freedom and I know, if you can't beat 'em
I'd be wise to choose my freedom over you.

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

Now you've filled up all your neediness without a real lover
hey there now but that's your business between you and Freedom's cover
as for women, you don't need 'em cause you've sworn off love for living
and for sure you love your Freedom and to these ends you watch your giving.
Now you're turning up the music and then you're surfing through your favorites
and flipping through the channels and those periodic moments
gotta catch up on your reading,organize your book collection
get your Ebay up and running you can do without direction
or distraction or attention

do the laundry
mow the lawn
fix what's broken
nothings wrong

Come closer won't you, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hanging on the
fringe of my heart
it's that white knuckled fear
surely Freedom stands near
and you dare not even tell her you're afraid.

maybe you go and take a shower and then shave for like an hour
don't forget to flush the toilet, boil an egg and eat some yogurt
top if off with some granola plan your week out, date with Lola
watch the leaves fall and then scatter,
rake 'em up
'cause these things matter,
crack a beer and catch a rerun
never mind the stuff that's undone...

Somewhere deep inside you, you are still the same old lonely
as you were the other year, never mind that second beer
think you realize you miss me, bet sometimes you'd like to kiss me
holding hands while watching TV, maybe someone just to talk to
and to laugh at all your old jokes and to share a little something
that you whipped up in your crockpot, glass of wine, latte or mocha
never mind, let's dance the polka, right that tightness in your shoulder
like John Lennon and his Yoko...

You decide to dial my number  
I usually don't usually like to answer
on the first ring  but by chance, you're
  saying something, wait a second
'cause I gotta turn my sound down
oh you're singing something funny,
and I like your phone voice honey
it's this old familiar tune I wrote for you

"Come closer to me, Dear
my loving friend
you're always out there hangin'
on the fringe of my heart
with your white knuckled fear
for our freedom stands near
and we dare not even tell her we're afraid"

For my dear old friend, a confirmed bachelor, who goes by Poppy, or Bubba.

"For truth has such a face and such a mien as to be loved needs only to be seen. "

JOHN DRYDEN, The Hind and the Panther

:)  love this, and I'm non-denominational ( raised Catholic)
take in the corn and spit out the cob. IT's not the word of God, and I believe that some see the truth and hate it, because they are in a state of rebellion. Spoken from experience.

From here to the gate
and the ground to the dust
Heaven can wait
while we write what we must!

An ordinary day arrived again
and ticketed talk
it cost me just to say 
"one second
more-
let's go for a walk"

"Yes-
if you will promise-
to see me as yourself
and not the thing
you made of me
that clock upon your shelf"

we strolled through misty meadows
and hand in hand that day
I learned to love my freedom
and the things which come what may

we had our  day together
I cannot say the date
I want to say an extra-
ordinary day
but wait...

"Why can't an ordinary day
be just this  like today?"
and Ordinary looked at me
and pointed towards the sway....

"That same old wave is NOT the same
no ordinary roll
and waves through placid water
seem to change the water's soul
the ins and outs
the ups and downs
of every single day
are separate parts of sameness
but unique in every way"

"try not to over think it
be quiet, or you'll miss
the things you take for granted
make for silence, calm the hiss!"

and so my ordinary date  
had tried set me free
to wander down the road without
a single peep from it to me

a silent celebration
seemed no ordinary day
reset my pace for living
and now no fine to pay!

Hey!
"Where do you think you're going?"
as the sun sets in the west
"I've got to get a move on
but you've been a splendid guest

I'll be back tomorrow
just an ordinary mate
but if you care to have some fun
we'll make another date!"
.

In a steaming creek bed of warm stone
lay me down in a heap all alone
feeling less occupied with the others who tried
to connect soul to soul with my own.

It was there that I sensed nature's kiss
flowing up from the ground, just pure bliss
steaming waters can seep
and I drew a breath deep
and allowed it to penetrate this:

In still waters I lay with my Lord
all my cares I had cast to the shore
it was there that He spoke
not a cad or a bloke
but my Love, and I shan't say much more.

He spoke of the feelings I had
of old thoughts which would trigger my sad
and he told me to take
all His truth and then spake
to my soul, only truth,  like a dad.

Then His Word, like a heat which can ****
any lie but quite good to me still
in plain English, God's Truth
fired fountain of youth  
and His water coursed over my will

He told me my heart was a beauty
that he made me to shine as his cutie
and that when I sing, it's the Ouray of spring
and I laughed, what a gas, God's a hootie.

So we soaked in our silence, befuddled
from my eyes to His bath, my tears puddled
that God's living water would cleanse his own daughter
so sweet, what a treat, to be cuddled.

"We will be replacing the curb and parts of the sidewalk. The trees will need to be cut down along with the one in the middle, We have marked them with pink ties."

Wha????

Two Towering Old Maple Trees
Our trees.
each bordering the sidewalk
but also near the curb
in front of our house
each holding memories
which go back beyond my ability to remember,
and yet each a solid part of my growing up in this house...
When I first met my husband and he would park his 68 Camaro under one of them. I was still climbing trees at 16. My sister carved her name and her bf name in the same tree. They were always there. ALWAYS. Like something you just KNOW is going to be there. Strong. Withstanding any weather for 52 years. Like our dad. Steadfast present trees. Part of our existence. Planted by the township when my parents moved here in '61 just before my birth. Part of me. Us. Our family. Our lives.

Shock. Utter disbelief. Anger. Bargaining. Acceptance? Not yet.

Our beloved Maple trees. Our beloved littler tree, now growing strong. Shade and privacy. Beauty. Sweetness. Life. Seasons. Cycles. Strength. Presence.
Our beloved trees. Two are steady and strong at 52 years are now towering over our house,
beautifying our street along with many others.
A younger tree, a sycamore? ( has those little helicopter seedlings that spin when they come down) ,  is center stage, next to our mailbox, but towers just the same
next to our mailbox. Leaves are still green.

" Will you also need to remove that one?"

"Yes.: They all have to come down."

" But...but...."

"Has to be done. The roots ruin the sidewalk. We will be replacing the sidewalk as well."

"And will you be replacing the trees?"

"No but you can plant new ones on your property."

"Okay..........thanks."

Shock. Tears.

I vow to the smaller one that I will find a way to pull it up...transplant it just a few safe feet away."

I am broken. I just lost my father who LOVED our property. Loved this street with it's trees.

I am in tears as I type this. I can never tell my mother, who moved away a month ago. She is equally in love with our trees and was always frustrated when the township would come along and cut the branches so they could not touch each other across the road. WE LOVE our canopy of maples and now the  ORIGINAL development with the OLD trees, the apple of my father's eye...my mother's eyes will become like a desert.  It was one of the only things Mom and Dad had in common, a love of our trees. The shade trees. What else is there?

Oh..... I will take photos. I will take movies. I will save branches. I will fall apart. I will go out tomorrow and buy two Bradford Pears and place them in exactly the same spot except on our side...to distract me from the carnage. I don't know HOW I am going to deal with the trees coming down. It's like taking part of my house down. The sadness comes in waves. It brings back the loss of my dad. It is dad's birthday today. Would have been 85.

I am so glad my father and my mother did not have to see this. THANK YOU GOD for that much. And for the Pear Trees which will flower in the spring and grow tall. Thank you. I am not okay but I will be. We will be. We will plant again. "Restore the Shore Club".  

My mom always called our neighborhood 'Shore Club' as that was it's proper name when it was established, but it came to be known by it's current name, Hamtown, later.

the
boonies
where you are
in the outback, and
the middle of nowhere, but
y'all like callin' it "God's Country"
because it's a place which is tended by God
where businessmen have yet to overrun and ravage
to fell forests,and clear acres of land for cozy developments
and it's a place where you are dangerously closer
to the wild elements and are self-reliant
comfortably near to the natural
free of the 'pressures' who
could encroach upon
your space and
freedoms
wow

God has numbered every strand
upon your head and knows your name
designed you well, by His own hand
and put you in, to play the game.

Synthetic grass needs lots of care
out in left field, looking down
just like the stuff they weave in hair
and then that old familiar sound.

the ball's been hit, straight down left field
reality and daydream blurred
the guy on second tries to steal
but can't outrun your throw to third.

He's out but then that guy on first
has stolen base and now on second,
thoughts on grass are in your face
because your left field mind has beckoned.

Vision sharp, and body strong
and under cap, your brain recalled
the numbers given to each strand
upon your head shaved mostly bald.

and then another sudden crack
awakens player from the norm
the far left fielder plays it out
and crowds applause while you perform.

i feel the density
the scarcity
of being me
not one to wait around
but suddenly this girl's a tree

of void
hey now let's contemplate
half empty?
no, half full today
congested is my current state
the chips fall
anywhere they may

i want to whisper
and have nothing coming
from the place of  (sigh)
I want a glimpse of what its like
to have the thought erase
and ( sigh)

I am not asking
to be mute, though you may
entertain the thought
be nice to simply hear
not what I'm thinking
more like what you've got.

i feel the silence
hear the sound  
inside my head it's humming
not short of pleasant but
much better to accompany
your strumming.

a conversation taking
place
an understanding in my soul
an instrument of perfect grace
i'll hand it to you
make me whole

forgive my talking  
nightlights glimmer
something i can't shake
my longing dear
is just to simmer
down to give and take

I love the feeling
when you're moved
about my bellyache
your comfort's soothing
teabag something
makes my honey quake

not knowing how or when
or why or is just the way it sometimes goes
to trust an answer
never comes
but known to God
whose loving shows..

steam from the coffee ***
brings more than this
it's coffee's kiss
beans roast by foreign hands
in foreign lands
brought me to this...
XO

Love would hold him in His hands,
a man whose field of knowledge spans
across the cultures of the lands
whose heart and soul He understands.

And Love would choose this lowly one
of humble heart, a fallen son
and one who's felt the pain of loss
who's slept in fields of stone and moss.

And brought him to this place of rest
where he can ponder what is best
to build his home with rusty nail
or lose the things which can't avail?

To spend his time in search of that
which fills the hollow places, at
the moment of his greatest need
a shoot broke through that tiny seed.

A drop of water from the sky
had reached the ground and fed the rye
which grew into the Living bread
and fed the famine in his head.

And Love would fill his hungry soul
with simple Truth, a burning coal
and from this rock, pure streams will flow
the living water makes men whole.

We, like sheep, have gone astray
and each one wanders his own way
it's freedom call and so, what if
our freedom calls from yonder cliff?

The grass is tall, it waves hello
while waves crash on the rocks below
the Pasture man, he knows the land
and saves his friends from sinking sand.

He leaves the flock to find the few
who've wandered out to catch a view
of life beyond the broken fence
a man feels loved and then repents.

Not to be the only one who feels
that it's important
to keep your shirt on
to keep your patience
of this I'm certain
with understanding
in quiet waters
are sunken
treasures
found.

Catching wind of something that you said
I'm quite relieved that
you are the type who
can see the end from
a rough beginning
and in forgiving
you make it clear
that there's no
fear in
love.

Reaching out for something that is good
and latching onto
discarded socks you
were thinking 'clearly
they don't deserve you'
but still you serve so
it will continue
and you'll never
be
alone.

Letting go of all that is behind
I might be freed from
my vain devotions
and silly notions
the useless worries
about the future
and of all
temporal
things.

Though i can't see the end from beginning
God, there's nothing that You cannot see
when I can't speak for fear and in weakness
Speak Your calm and Your peace over me.

You are Truth, but tonight
I forgot, you are Light
let my thoughts lead the way
to a darker place.

overwhelmed, lacking prayer
I set sail without care
thought I'd manage alone
since I know Your Grace.

but when storm clouds appeared
it was then that I feared
and called " Lord!-
can't you see that I'm sinking!?"

and that's just how I pray
in the midst of the day
come what may,
I just say what I'm thinking.

My guess is that Jesus was dreaming
when he slept quietly in the boat
No one was needing a thing, at the time,
all was fine, course aligned, still afloat.

No need for Divine conversation,
so why don't You just take a nap?
I'll be snoozing right here, if you need Me, don't fear
by all means, Jesus, we have the map.

We all know how storms blow in quickly
and that Weatherman knew, for He must~
if He wanted, the Lord could have warned them before,
more important they learn how to trust.

And they cried for their Savior to save them
from the monster which threatened their peace
they awakened the Man who said "Do as I AM,
simply speak to the storm, it will cease!"

Though I can't see the end from beginning
God, there's nothing that you cannot see
when I can't speak, for fear and in weakness
Speak Your calm and Your peace over me.

One dude's short, the other's tall
both are slim and that's not all
both are fat and both are jerky
both named Jim, I'd rather turkey.

What is it? It's Slim Jims. Yuck. Beef Jerky with Nitrates and heavy on sodium,  I saw the Perky Jerky, (it's Turkey Jerky) at Home Depot and I had to have it. Lower Sodium. Good source of protein. Lightweight. and NO Nitrates!

I would rather you kept the change than reward my hard work with pittance. On second thought...I'll take it. Thanks.

you have the look they say could ****
well i'm not dead, though sufferin' still.

i have a mind to tell your mother
the way you smile when you're with the other.

she'd say she warned me at the start
not to burp and hold the ****.

whatever, no matter, i really don't care
im not even bothered, just gimme some air.

let me rip this old rug up
it stinks of old **** de la pup.

i had a gripe to air today
so I let it out and blew you away.

n'er the mare before the cart
show me your money and then your heart.

gimme a kiss, and make it quick
I can't take pleasure, it gets me sick.

a house that smells of fresh cut flowers
can't numb heartache, but sweetens the sours.

drop kick me out to the farthest field
I'll roll back home when all has healed.

well she could sit around all day
and rot her poetry this way
just put it all rot down and say
"I've done my duty"
done let the cat out of the bag
done with the hairball that old nag
all gutsy green this rotten queen
just cut a cutie.

she'll change the word to what it's not
and that ain't wrong, it's all she's got
but just like garbage turns to rot  
the road untrodden
she'll long the rod, like rodeo
these words are ridden, time to go
so get the horse and don't be slow
it's time we're ridin'!

We're ridin' errors then all day
poetic license paves the way
don't know quite where but that's okay
our rot to ramble
and what this rutted road has got
is what the dusty novel's not
the long and short of every rot
poetic bramble.

well she could sit around all day
and rot her poetry this way
just put it all rot down and say
"I've done my rotten duty"
done let the cat out of the bag
done with the hairball that old nag
all gutsy green this rotten queen
just rode a rotten beauty.

she'll change the word to what it's not
and that ain't wrong, but it ain't rot
and just like garbage turns to ***  
and get's all down trodden
then long the rod, like rodeo
these words are ridden, time to go
so get the horse and don't be slow
you're right in time with ridin'!

We're ridin' errors then all day
poetic license paves the way
don't know quite where but that's okay,
cause it's our rot to ramble
and what this rutted road has got
is what the dusty novel's not
the long and short of every rot
is pure poetic bramble.

Minding our own
barely making it rhyme,
it's all coming out
there's dust in the drought
but the rain comes in time.

Nothing held back
I've got nothing to say,
let it roll off my shoulders
puts less your mind
and it's better that way.

And isn't this nice?
you like hot tea on ice
thank you, yes, I can follow directions
so please don't think twice.
And isn't this great?
we can stay out real late
watching millions of sparkling stars
while you're lickin' that plate?

I said nothing at all
it's that horse in the stall
my foot fell asleep but I'm not gonna weep
I can drag it or crawl.

Now the wind's in the trees
and your hand's on my knees
and the warmth of your breath on my neck
puts my tired mind at ease.

All I wanted
      porch
                    swing
            rhythm
 ­   back
              and
        forth
        with you babe
                         All I needed
                          porch
                 swing
        rhythm
back
       and
                  forth
                with you.

Minding our own
barely making it rhyme,
it's all coming out
and there's dust in the drought
but the rain comes in time
Distracted, it's true
idle chatter won't do
Better nothing to say
put the music on play
and be quiet
with you.

Minding our own
making it rhyme,
it's all coming out
and there's dust in the drought
but the rain comes in time.

Nothing held back
I've got nothing to say,
let it roll off my shoulders
puts less your mind
and it's better that way.

All I wanted
      porch
             swing
                 rhythm~
                           back
              and
     forth
            with you, babe
                         All I needed
                          porch
                 swing
        rhythm
back
       and
                  forth
                with you.

And isn't this nice?
you like hot tea on ice
thank you, yes, I can follow directions
so please don't think twice.
And isn't this great?
we can stay out real late
watching millions of sparkling stars
while you're lickin' that plate?

I said nothing at all
it's that horse in the stall
my foot fell asleep but I'm not gonna weep
I can drag it or crawl.

Now the wind's in the trees
and your hand's on my knees
and the warmth of your breath on my neck
puts my tired mind at ease.

All I wanted
      porch...
                    swing...
            rh­­ythm..
    back...
              and...
        forth...
       ­ ­with you babe
                         All I needed
                          porch
                 swing
        rhythm
back
       and
                  forth
                with you.

Minding our own
making it rhyme,
it's all coming out
and there's dust in the drought
but you rain comes in time...

Distracted, it's true
idle chatter won't do
Better nothing to say
put the music on play
and be quiet
with you.

All I wanted
      porch...
                    swing...
            rh­­ythm..
    back...
              and...
        forth...
       ­ ­with you babe
                         All I needed
                          porch
                 swing
        rhythm
back
       and
                  forth
                with you.

Minding our own
barely making it rhyme,
it's all coming out
there's dust in the drought
but the rain comes in time.

Nothing held back
I've got nothing to say,
let it roll off my shoulders
puts less your mind
and it's better that way.

(hum or sing chorus)
All I wanted
      porch
             swing
                 rhythm~
                           back
              and
     forth
            with you, babe
                         All I needed
                          porch
                 swing
        rhythm
back
       and
                  forth
                with you.

And isn't this nice?
you like hot tea on ice
thank you, yes, I can follow directions
so please don't think twice.
And isn't this great?
we can stay out real late
watching millions of sparkling stars
while you're lickin' that plate?

Bridge---( can you hear it?)

I said nothing at all
it's that horse in the stall
my foot fell asleep but I'm not gonna weep
I can drag it or crawl.

Now the wind's in the trees
and your hand's on my knees
and the warmth of your breath on my neck
puts my tired mind at ease.

All I wanted
      porch...
                    swing...
            rh­ythm..
    back...
              and...
        forth...
        ­with you babe
                         All I needed
                          porch
                 swing
        rhythm
back
       and
                  forth
                with you.

Minding our own
making it rhyme,
it's all coming out
and there's dust in the drought
but you rain comes in time...

Distracted, it's true
idle chatter won't do
Better nothing to say
put the music on play
and be quiet
with you.

All I wanted
      porch...
                    swing...
            rh­ythm..
    back...
              and...
        forth...
        ­with you babe
                         All I needed
                          porch
                 swing
        rhythm
back
       and
                  forth
                with you.

he might have a word for you
offer up a single clue
something he can say or do
might change the way you're feeling
a snowflake falls from far above
this single thing I'm thinking of
it falls upon your working glove
and sets your heart to healing
pick a tune you want to hear
this will be our song all year
play it while we have a beer
and kiss the snowy ceiling.

Golden words penned long ago
when I was young and zesty
occupied with lofty things
perhaps a lot less testy.

That which clouds my vision
tragic losses which destroyed
sweet perceptions
dark deceptions
left me underjoyed.

Of boyfriends unattainable
rejection would then smite
the hope of finding love,
which left me
just a bit uptight.

in the stretch to earn a living
well my boss is kind of rough
In trying to say something nice I'm on ice
'cause she's hard-headed, driving, and tough.

The high cost of living and then there's the tax
puts a strain on my old bank account
but that backbiting back-riding queen battleaxe
can jump from the ground to the mount.

and every day's the same old thing
like a hamster on the wheel
the same old thing is looking old
and I’m feeling cold as steel.

but still I ignore the passing of time
and balance hard work with clean fun
and believing that this is as good as it gets
I'll settle for less than the one.

seeking distraction from everything dull
and attracted to that which you are
I read self help books while you eats what I cooks
and you're lost in the Harper's Bazaar.

My cellulite was ill replete
and disappointments grew
and long before the smog moved in
it choked the thrill from you.

and out of this stress comes the need to digress
so we sleep and we play and we drink
and we drain our desires and ***** up our wires
and leave our *** life on the brink.

Simple amusements, the clutter of things
common to man and his beast
from the pretense of knowledge and so many things
to the Thanksgiving holiday feast.

And now we're blown out, you lie and I shout
there's a palpable distance that's haunted
I long for the day that you'll hold me and say
I was always the THE ONE that you wanted.

But now mediocre, you opt to play poker
and run with a sweat-pool of stink
and hoping to find something good on the street
in the morning you feel like a fink.

Left to your own devices
sleeping soundly, your heart's one desire
for passion it waits, while the office debates
and will do so until you expire.

Displacing my anger I'm less satisfied
and will never see straight, as you'll see
my own crooked finger was put through the wringer
and now it points straight back at me.

A strange and eerie silence just before the midnight train
in the distance rolling thunder, through the darkness,
here's the rain
now wind is whipping sideways, tearing limbs from massive trees,
it's a wonder, jolt of thunder, every man's not his knees!

In a frenzied call to sleepers, get your loved ones up, she screams
it's the grimmest of all reapers come to rob you of your dreams
and it's grinding up the ground ten miles south, a mile wide
and it's headed your direction, so you'd better run and hide!

So panic takes the front seat while we quickly dive for cover
and we pray for God's deliverance, 'cause no one wants to hover
and we wait upon hell's plunder,as it devastates the land
and leaves it's monster's calling card, demise of all things grand.

lighter than a feather, yet never made for flight
carried on this wrecking train through blackness of the night
butcher knives! and power tools! an airborne metal shed!
A rabbit cage! an auto harp and someone's unmade bed!

the stuff which neighbors value, all their papers, jewels and cash
have been caught up in the whirlwind, torn to shreds and churned to trash
it's then I hear the grinding of the wheels upon the track
and brace myself with others in the bowels of my shack

a locomotive bearing down, we hold on tight and pray
the shrill wind screams, you can't believe it's happening this way!
and all we care about right then is staying on the ground
and keeping those we love alive, intact and safe and sound.

The way it goes, no one quite knows the way it's gonna be
we trust that God is here to lead us through the deep Red Sea
though man's no match against it, we'll find shelter in the storms
and pray escape the reaper in the whirlwind as it forms

A strange and eerie silence just before the midnight train
in the distance rolling thunder, through the darkness,
here's the rain
now wind is whipping sideways, tearing limbs from massive trees,
it's a wonder, jolt of thunder, every man's not his knees!

In a frenzied call to sleepers, get your loved ones up, she screams
it's the grimmest of all reapers come to rob you of your dreams
and it's grinding up the ground ten miles south, a mile wide
and it's headed your direction, so you'd better run and hide!

So panic takes the front seat while we quickly dive for cover
and we pray for God's deliverance, 'cause no one wants to hover
and we wait upon hell's plunder,as it devastates the land
and leaves it's monster's calling card, demise of all things grand.

lighter than a feather, yet never made for flight
carried on this wrecking train through blackness of the night
butcher knives! and power tools! an airborne metal shed!
A rabbit cage! an auto harp and someone's unmade bed!

the stuff which neighbors value, all their papers, jewels and cash
have been caught up in the whirlwind, torn to shreds and churned to trash
it's then I hear the grinding of the wheels upon the track
and brace myself with others in the bowels of my shack

a locomotive bearing down, we hold on tight and pray
the shrill wind screams, you can't believe it's happening this way!
and all we care about right then is staying on the ground
and keeping those we love alive, intact and safe and sound.

The way it goes, no one quite knows the way it's gonna be
we trust that God is here to lead us through the deep Red Sea
though man's no match against it, we'll find shelter in the storms
and pray escape the reaper in the whirlwind as it forms

feel the steam
the pressure of the ocean
the walls of water flowing in
to heal the places deep within
my hurting soul

steel the dream
the mind can't take the notion
the empty heart's devotion
and finally eviction
conviction
of the truth

penetrate the mask
with Gods own word
gently lift the dream away
and power off the dirt
wash away the malady
today a new reality
love yourself and  
live without the hurt

let it dry
the final tears have fallen
and love is always calling
walking in the halls and
offering a tissue
this is not his issue
still he cares
always aware
he's always there
and he loves you.

released
from every vain deception
it was not my election
to have my heart's correction
come straight from my own mouth

and now the truth
my lack of proper leading
that this heart took a beating
rejected and left bleeding
but finally in the place
without disgrace
humbled and
set right

released.

told it like it was
of love and loss and beauty
knew about deep pain
trusted the bigger picture
and played his voice
like a violin
wrote music to suit
that amazing tenor
a follower of Jesus Christ
brought a sinner to salvation
and singing was your thing
your voice, oh, Roy Orbison
could melt the hardest stone
I miss you in your old age
but you are not old anymore
you are young, healthy, strong
and can see...you have been restored
to your peak of perfection
and I believe that Heaven
is a better place now

http://youtu.be/J4ki93EqjHU

far too innocent to know the secrets of creation
abandoned, and left wandering in the pines
the love she thinks she's getting now
through ****** relation
will only serve to blur the boundary lines.

DP:  "I
I just
I just don't
I just don't know
I just don't know how to
how to.... to do this...how do I do this?"

DOH: " to do what?".

DP: "How I ought to deal with you".
" What is the kindest way to avoid drama....
To avoid the manipulation of self pity...
To save us both the indignation of an acting out?"

DOH: "There are at many ways to deal with me....
"nicely and neatly to avoid inflicting more pain,
directly and honestly to help you understand,
silently and patiently in hopes that you will find another to distract you,
sternly and without pity to engage your own sense of pride.
or....shall I remind you of the past and how difficult it was for you?
shall I simply give you increments of time to help you adjust?
shall I simply smile and promise to talk soon as I wave goodbye?"

DP: Or perhaps I should simply come to grips with the fact that you are in my life forever and thank God for you?
After all, who else would care for me as much as you? "

DOH: " Probably no one", and thinking a little longer responded, "No one can love you like me".

DP: "BUT YOU DON'T love me!"

DOH: "I don't? Hmm.... I guess I never noticed."

DP: "Perhaps this is true. But is it fair to do that, to take without returning, and how is it that you can continue to do that? Oh, who can answer my questions about fairness in relationships?"

DOP: You can, if you have the courage to face singleness."

Snuggled in Downey, five-hundred thread county, creating,
in brushed cotton flannel she's sewn his panels, he's waiting
when down in the subway he sits on a nail
and jumping up, empties his cup on the rail
the coppers subdue him, and drag him to jail, parading.

Stripped to the drawers for a search they discovered the flannel
panel
when asked of the man who had frozen his can in the English
channel
he gave them the name of his seamstress and then
discovered that inside the panel was penned,
a note from the woman who goes by Sangwen de Lemanel:

"If you find this it means you have bust loose the seams of your winsulation
come back to my shack, I'll be happy to tack without hintsulation
of course, if by chance, you'd be wanting some scones
while I fix up your pants, you can warm up your bones
and I'll double the thickness and strength for your own consolation".

Though the note in the pants, at a glance, hardly worth the debating
somewhat cryptic in places, suggested the seamstress was dating
could it be that this maiden with needle and thread
was hiding an inmate who'd recently fled
it was suspect, her stitch-work, a cover: abetting and aiding.

Intent upon solving the case of the note in the panel
Sherlock Dannel rode down to the seamstress and brought her some flannel
"I've sewn quilts, without guilt, for the queen, rest her soul,
and the king wore my hats, though his head had a hole
but the rest of my work will attest to my innocence, Dannel".

And Sherlock, so taken with Sangwen, whose voice was sedating
missed the gist of her kiss, but the point of this pistol elating
"See I'm really quite good with a needle and thread
but in cases left traces of blood on the dead
when my needles were shed from drawers of the bores who were waiting."

The man was immersed, but well versed in the curse of the smitten
he saw that this seamstress was shrewd and her verses well written
and hiding her needles and notes could avail
in busting loose criminals down at the jail
and if he had his way, on this day, in the pen she'd be knittin'

Snuggled in Downey, five-hundred thread county, creating,
in brushed cotton flannel she'd sewn his panels, he's waiting
when down in the subway he sits on a nail
and jumping up, empties his cup on the rail
the coppers subdue him, and drag him to jail, parading.

Stripped to the drawers for a search they discovered the flannel
panel
when asked of the man who had frozen his can in the English
channel
he gave them the name of his seamstress and then
discovered that inside the panel was penned,
a note from the woman who goes by Sangwen de Lemanel:

"If you find this it means you have bust loose the seams of your insulation
come back to my shack and I'll cover the cost of my consultation
and then, if by chance, you'd be wanting some scones
while I fix up your pants, you can warm up your bones
and I'll double the thickness and strength for your own consolation".

Though the note in the pants, at a glance, hardly worth the debating
somewhat cryptic in places, suggested the seamstress was dating
could it be that this maiden with needle and thread
was hiding an inmate who'd recently fled
it was suspect, her stitch-work, a cover: abetting and aiding.

Intent upon solving the case of the note in the panel
Sherlock Dannel rode down to the seamstress and brought her some flannel
"I've sewn quilts, without guilt, for the queen, rest her soul,
and the king wore my hats, though his head had a hole
but the rest of my work will attest to my innocence, Dannel".

And Sherlock, so taken with Sangwen, whose voice was sedating
missed the gist of her kiss, but the point of this pistol elating
"See I'm really quite good with a needle and thread
but in cases left traces of blood on the dead
when my needles were shed from drawers of the bores who were waiting."

The man was immersed, but well versed in the curse of the smitten
he saw that this seamstress was shrewd and her verses well written
and hiding her needles and notes could avail
in busting loose criminals down at the jail
and if he had his way, on this day, in the pen she'd be knittin'.

Bend the ear of a wise old man
and tell him what this place is
over and over, you'll waste your time
just shouting empty phrases
He won't read lips, he's never has
he's spent his life just is he as
He's all mixed up and all that jazz
the words, his mind erases

And yet somehow I never fail to communicate frustration
it's always clear and never lost, a visual translatio

He speaks of friends he lost at war
and thinks his child is only four
incontinent and up all night
prefers you called him 'Sarge'
Sit beside him, don't you worry
let him eat without the hurry
let him lead, and listen well
you'll come to love The Sarge

Guide him gently down the aisle
He's got a limp, it takes a while
overlook the caustic tone
Commanding was his station
Now take the time to softly smile
mind your manners, march that mile;
don't patronize, but recognize
to him you're Gomer Pyle.

Someday you'll know how it'll be
if you reach that golden 93
you hope your mind will last as long
but there ain't no way of telling
They say that it is in the genes
but who knows what brings down our beans
if we lose our ears and minds
let's hope there's no one yelling

Not entirely crazy though a teensy bit insane
outside in the daylight, my mind runs as clear as rain.

I took the test they gave me to find a compatible fellow
Roses are red, Violets are blue, but my heart is screaming yellow.

I bottled up my beeswax, showered off the gloom
hello fresh air and sunshine, come pouring through my room.

Started talking to a stranger, not the average Joe
wait until I meet him, the only way to know.

Yarrow is a color, I heard the Asian mutter
held the petals 'neath my chin to see if I like butter.

An over-ripe banana, brown speckled, getting soft
waitin' for his perfect match, the others he has scoffed.

Not easily misguided, he won't buy into hype
Perfect match confided, he's not the risky type.

Yellow is not fade proof, it washes out in time
hang your heart out here to dry, wind blows it off the line.

Whatever is the point here, of how she done you wrong
your history's no matter to me, it's always the same old song

No longer scared, just waiting, been down around the block
I've hopscotched all these sidewalks, know the cracks and saved my chalk

Today I am feeling ready, tomorrow I'm bleeding blue
orange you glad I'm yellow, a bright and crazy hue?

I don't need no internet, or men to entertain
just read my lips and bring some chips
I'll meet you at the train....

Just read my chin
and hold the gin
I'll meet you at the train!

read my mail
and go to jail
I'll meet you at the train!

read my book
and take a look
I'll meet you at the train!

leave your momma
and hold that comma
I'll meet you at the train!

and if by chance
you like to dance
I'll meet you at the train.

With the last bit of the glue
fixed my sculpture of you
which inspired in me a sweet song
and you know that I cared
and with caution repaired
but it seems that I got
the feet wrong.

If it's true what they say
about people,
how we tend to be set in our ways,
and therefore in time
like the lemon and lime
grow more sour
with the passing of days,

then my sculpture of you
is endearing
left foot to leg on the right
and the right foot stuck well
to the left leg from hell
will inspire a fight not a flight.

time to let the stink out
of this locker room
inside of here
and open up the windows of the hall
let the dust *****
fly away
'cause everything I do and say
is nothing less than pride before the fall.

take away the chains
which keep me tied to what looks beautiful
so I can just decide here on my own
open up the doors and set me free
for I can't stand to be
cooped up beside this keyboard and the phone.

Call the guy and order, honey
anything you want
be sure to hold the font
and all those words, just let em be.
ask for two, they'll tell you that
the slice is two for three
the first you have to pay for but that second slice is free.

And If you must type anything
then make it quick
or call and sing
those simple little words I want to hear
I'll wait around but let's enjoy
the hours outside
and wade into the rolling tide
so nice this time of year!

and if you must get serious
I'm happy to go with you there
but please don't ask for lyrical replies
if you need to talk
don't tell me everything too soon
for I will balk
and think you're packin' hooey lies.

I never said
that I could write a book here
and yet look here, I can throw it out
cause I'm the queen of throw
up and down the Avenue
a literary genius, you
are taking me too seriously though.

I just got out of prison and I'm
trying just to listen and
it's way too soon to speak of love for me;
Best to take it slow
I feel your hunger pains, let's go
and get a pizza, 'cause the second slice is free!