When the saints...go marching in
Oh when the saints go marching in
Oh how I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in

Of all the saints, I want to know
The ones who write, I'd love to meet
Oh how I'd love to meet all the authors
When the saints go down the street

E.A. Poe...even Thoreau
Hemmingway would be ok
Mailer and Andrew Taylor
I'd learn to drink like a sailor
when these saints come strolling in

The Writers Guild...I'd be fulfilled
Meeting writers long since dead
Just think of what I'm learning
All that knowledge in their heads

I'd love to know, I'd love to know
Is Bill Shakespeare who we think?
Christie, Austen and Dickens
This is where the whole plot thickens
When the saints go marching in

Is it the best, of all the books
Is the bible just a tale
Can you think of someone better
When Melville speaks about a whale

Capote sits, while Chaucer reads
Bronte knits while Stoker bleeds
Oh how I want to be in that number
When these saints go marching in

The list goes on, oh on and on
There's just so many who've passed on
It's a list that leads by example
When these saints go marching in

Oh when the saints go marching in
When the saints go marching in
How I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in

bruises come with ease
when you find yourself pressed between
four walls
and concrete falls
over time, in little pieces unseen
despite your pleas
to bring them down
to keep them up
do you think
you are prepared to tread in open sea
with her winter bite
or will you sink
content, at last, to simply be
out of sight

there have been times
in my life
when thoughts became
active strife
not knowing when
enough is enough
carrying on
huff and puff

as I start
to reflect a bit
seems to me
I was a ****
as I have aged
a new person arose
replacing one
with one who knows

The difference between
some souls it seems
is greatly reduced
when kindness precludes
an understanding ear
o'er a glass of dark beer
can bring out a smile
that might last awhile


so before you insult
consider the drought
of humanity within your soul
always reach out
even in doubt
for the life you will save
will be yours

I'm a coffee ***;
you're in the mood for tea.

Your limitless future brings great fear
The future is less far and more near
Glasses will replace cellphones next year
Hundreds can share one's eyes
People you replace will shed a tear
Tech is human's demise

You con with lights and buttons and bells
Amplifying strength, you fit in cells
We drown in technological wells
You thrive and humans shrink
The addiction will rot us in Hell
People! Log off and think!

When do we cease with this life carefree
It's time people let well enough be
Tech will soon replace humans for free
Tractors and new machines
Starved, by stealing the jobs of many
Limitations obscene

A darkened scar across my eye
a lightning  crack against the sky
this morbid creature standing by
this place where horror tends to cling

What God has cursed you with this frame?
your crippled form,  your branches lame
but let him speak and he'll proclaim
"I'm far more tame in spring"

They were two minds
in contention.
Spinning--always slightly
out of sync.

But they freed themselves
from the constant clashing.
Orbiting at each's own volition.  

As they explored
these different frequencies,
their thoughts became gusts
of unrelenting wind,
spanning silently
the chasm
of their own creation.

So,
without touching
or even knowing,
each shaped the other.
Eroding and weathering
until all that was left
were two hopes coursing
in near harmony.