Do not leave me child
Do not fledge and grow
It’s just my broken soul in your way
Crumbling soft and slow
The first moment I held you
Is the moment I let you go.

A daydream then my sonshine
My sonshine then her man
New love swept you away
On a sweet summer day
Suddenly I’m alone again
You’ve found paradise
In a pair of brown eyes
Place a banded promise in her hand

Such a primitive shelter
You carved in this heart of stone
Life etched sweat and dust
Blade stippled with rust
Furrowed deeper than I’ve ever known
Now my fractured heart
Is falling apart
As you step out on your own

This gift I never wanted
Now I cling to you so tight
With a ferocity
Upwellling in me
I’d rather die than lose the fight
But I have to concede
When you were born you were freed
I’ve just prepared you for flight

TL Boehm
06/20/2013

Like a ballerina twirling as she dances lightly on her toes,
She is free.
And as the Earth swirls in her own sorrow, painting her poetry in the newly sun-less sky,
She is free.
And like the plump and pigmented cheeks of a child experiencing her first snowfall in the biting winter,
She is free.
And as the roses bud in the birth of Spring, the birds sing of their anxious wait for the comfort of her petals,
She is free.
And as the cotton candy dizzily gathers in the candy store windows of her childhood dreams,
She is free.
And as I tied back my hair this morning and pulled at the laces on my shoes and painted my lips with my favorite shade of happiness,
I closed my eyes and batted my lashes as my head filled with the music of
I am free.

I am now so old
I only remember things,
Whenever possible,
That please me
From days “back then”,
When my **** was where
It was supposed to be
Now it walks along behind me
Like a lady in waiting.

My **** is like bunting
And my hair is hunting
For new territory
Up my back and shoulders;
It happens when men get older.
The hair on top thins
The stuff below begins
To reupholster my anatomy.
It’s so irritating to me
This whole aging thing,
This “being a senior” stuff.

It’s really rough on someone like me
An eternal teen, new to the scene.
But now I have become
That eccentric old fellow
In plaid pants that looked dumb
In the seventies and before
And forever after.
But I can’t join the laughter.

Because it’s me, you see.
All I need now is to pull them up,
My pants, my belt
Right under my man *****
And I’ll be the guys on YouTube
In the video gag reels.
That’s how it feels.
But, it’s not funny to me.
It is, however, reality.
I will just have to make the best
Of the good and bad, the rest

Why
Can't
I
Write
What
My
Soul
Wants
To
Say
.

Old men are just depraved, we find,

There is nothing that I could

Have done to stop his sick old mind

From ruining the neighborhood



Parties that we once thought fun

Must now cease, it’s understood

Stay away the sick’s begun

Stay away for your own good



Grandfather-like he welcomed in

Little children, unawares

Rousing himself from his sleep

Oversight of vacant stares



Maybe it was just because

His brain was simply overtired

But slyly with unnerving jaws

His twisted mind became inspired



And snap, he tried to clamp them shut

On one so innocent and young

She dodged the trap and in her gut

It felt like she’d just been stung



Repeatedly she’s made to tell

Each tittle till the record's straight

She’s told forgiveness is the way

To handle his untoward state



And I stood idly by back then

A selfish little punk was I,

‘Only wished it hadn’t been

For my own serving each July



Enlightening it was to me

The sugar-coating thus removed

The world’s a cesspool, I can see

Monsters are real, it’s been proved



What’s more, oh sad epiphany,

The foul force within that man,

Exists a smidgeon deep in me,

Though full expulsion is the plan



It’s extant in the meat and bones

But I have yet to comprehend

Why that which speaks in dulcet tones

With animal-weakness can’t contend

Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.

Please take this as truth
That this is how it is done
If you see someone as enemy
You cease to see a human.
The fact that they are armed
And don’t like who you like
Is enough to create words like
****, ****, ****** and ****.

Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.

Line up the opposition forces
Against a bullet-riddled wall
And shoot them many times
And see how many will fall.
The ones who do not die
Must be minions of the devil.
They are the enemy, you see.
That’s all. That’s on the level.

Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.

And those people that don’t
Believe in your own form of Jesus,
Like Aerabbs and Jews and such,
Shoot them as much as it pleases.
Because they won’t go to heaven,
And are just heathens anyway
Like them Buddhist dingdongs
Like them ****** lesbians and gays.

Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.

And people in foreign countries
Well, you can guess how that goes;
Take a look and easily compare
Canadanians to them from Mexico.
The French are Frogs, Spanish spics.
None as good as us Americans.
And nothing good can come out
Of any **** place that is African.

Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.

Now if you find some of this offensive
And if this is revving up your motors,
Just bear in mind, this is what goes on
In the mind of the average voter.
Want to change this, make life better?
Drop your representatives a letter.
Tell them you are on to their villainy
And see them as supporting the REAL enemy.