Cold and wet I changed a tire in the rain. No thanks were needed as I sent the driver on her way. A young girl was crying at a street fair because her balloon had gotten away. I brought her another and said you will be ok. I gave a bottle of cold water to the person holding the road sign. They looked kind of puzzled but I didn't really mind. I just went on my way with a little more joy inside . Service with a joyful smile, it doesn't cost a lot to be kind.

Part of my soul is here, part is there. My emotions are everywhere. My dreams are broken into pieces, I feel like a puzzle with missing pieces. What I would not give to feel whole again. Like a tree that was struck by lightning, I am fractured into. I don't know how to pull it all back together. I am not sure what to do?

Everywhere I turn there is endless need. It overwhelms your senses it can bring you to your knees. The weight of all the clamoring voices can be deafening.  Perhaps the best way to help is to simply take someone's hand. Speak quietly and say help me understand. Find out how can help and simply fill that need. Then ask the person you helped to do the same. Pass kindness along one good deed at a time. If we all do this then I think we will all be just fine.

Needles laid out on the counter, knives sharpened and clean. Each day feels like I am living in a dream of pain that will not end. Life hurts so much, I just want to lay down and not get up. I can see the destiny in front of me. The question is just how do I get there? I can inject myself with too much happiness or perhaps cut myself again. Just a little deeper this time and a little closer to the vein. I feel like I am walking on the ledge of a tall building and life is the cold wind pushing me. I try to hold onto reality, but my grip is slipping fast. I don't know how much longer living on the edge can last.

I walk around in a daze, I feel like I am not inside of myself. People see me and just pass me by. I look like everybody else but the truth is that I am high. I can't seem to function in reality. I live a life of a lie. I don't get my medicine from a street corner, pharmiticuals keep me supplied. I take my emotional support each morning, they gladly give me them 90 days at a time. I function and I can smile, but sometimes I just want to die. Is it part of some kind of game, perhaps I cannot see the whole picture. I only know that I need to crash and escape the induced coma that I walk around in each day. I am not sure but I think that I am not the only one that lives this way. Just take another pill to get by. Are all just drugged down so that we will willing comply?

The grass has grown up in the yard and the paint is peeling on the sides of the building. The windows are dingy and there are no children laughing or at play. The kitchen is silent and there is no one coming to call. Joy has gone as time has passed and a home exist no more. Loneliness fills the air and we are all now distrustful strangers. Yesterday's family is broken and the old ones are dumped in a nursing home. Photo albums have been replaced with a thumb drive and no one seems to talk. As we become smarter we have lost a piece of ourselves. Simplicity is not to be taken for granted as we get lost in our pursuits. I sit and look at the old building and I wonder where home has gone.

Lights adorn trees and over hang the streets. People lay on the Sidewalk because they have nowhere to sleep. Someone was shopping just the other day when someone with a gun took her life away. Now her children are left all alone, mommy was killed for her purse and her phone. People are afraid to leave their homes, they cannot go to work because crime is rampant in the streets. Politicians don't seem to care that they can't buy food to eat. Life seems so gloomy, there is no goodwill towards men. People who should be family have forsaken each other and live in pain. What has become of our world, it is a crying shame. As I sit and grieve about the darkness that has gone on for so long. I cry silently wondering where the joy has gone?

Like a delicate butterfly with pigtails she used to laugh and smile. With gentle kisses and warm hugs she was mine for a while. Looking at me with puppy dog eyes as sleep found her. Into sweet dreams under warm blankets no cares to worry her. The summers passed and the winters came. The years ran together into a blur of memory. Now the sun is bright and she has blossomed from a small flower into a glorious rose. A bird that seeks its freedom as the wind finds it, calling the beautiful bird to try its wings. Feeling the warm sun of possibilities, she takes flight. A woman in her own right, no more the girl of yesterday.  She spreads her wings and she is gone, leaving only fleeting memories in her wake.

I throw my change into a coffee cup. I do this everyday, I know it doesn't sound like much. When the cup gets full I take it with me. I find some deserving soul and I give the change away. One cup at a time through weeks, months and years. The cup has become worn and had to be replaced once or twice. As the years have gone on I can't remember all of the times that I have given away pennies, nickels and dimes. A few quarters mixed in for good measure every once and a while. Now I sit in my chair, my hair has gone from Brown to Grey. I can barely get around but I still find a way. I take that old coffee cup with me once or twice a month. Not as often as I used to, now not often enough. Perhaps I will get a chance to see it all one day. What pennies in a cup did for so many along life's way.

Let the voices of the children rise, let them sing. Let the new generation see with new eyes. Let the walk in the streets and join hands in unity. Let that was old be forgotten and let a new way be found. Let the light of unity shine bright. From out of the ashes of division let a new world be born. Let them dance in the streets and rejoice as all become as one.

The morning light shines through the curtain. I do not want to get up but I must. After 2 days of crying I have to get going. Life has not stopped just because you said goodbye. I make it to the mirror and see my blood shot eyes, you would think that I had been drinking , but that would be a lie. Just like what you told me, but at least alcohol might have killed the pain. I wash my face and pull myself together, I'll just have to work through the pain. So now that you have gone, I will put the pieces together, like a puzzle scattered on the floor. Perhaps tomorrow will be better, but first I must get through today. I hope this makes me stronger, only time will tell. I am not sure what the plan will be when I start again.

Hush now and close your eyes. Lay your weary head down. Your eyes are heavy I know the night has fallen. The stars pierce the curtain of night and look down on you. Pull the covers tight over you and rest well. Dream gently and think of beautiful things. Tomorrow will come soon full of new promise, but for now gentle one, have sweet dreams.

A trickle of water falls off a mountain peak. Down between the clefts of the weather worn stones. Running steadily down into the earth. Winding through well worn passages. Flowing into larger cracks, joining with other water flows from high above on a frozen mountain peak. From a slow drip to a silver stream it moves forward. Down and out into fresh water springs that fill creeks and streams. Then into a river deep wide and clear. Onward the water flows, sometimes deep and slow, other times fast and shallow. Ever flowing the river goes, bringing life as it goes. A place where memories are created and lives are changed. Moving across the land into the sea until water is drawn up by the sun to fill the clouds, ascending to the mountain heights to fall as snow and rain beginning the journey over again.

My blood runs black and blue through my body. It pulses in and out of every fascet of my being. My emotions, my desires, my hopes and my fears. They want to escape into being through my hand and into my pen. A whole torrent of ideas waiting to expand beyond the horizon of my imagination. Something born in me, not something learned. The sharing of my essence with all who care to read. To those who dare to dream and hope for more. Visions of other places and thoughts of being. It flows in my veins, it is part of who I am .

In a circle we turn. The wheel goes around and around. Life repeats itself over and over. Try as we might we cannot get off of the merry go round . Like a dog chasing it's tail we never seem to catch up. In the circle of repetition of life.

The streets laugh at me as I struggle to climb out of the shadows. All around me people say just give in to the inevitable. I feel like I am suffocating sometimes. All over the neighborhood, I see people with broken spirits who are prisoners of forgotten dreams. They wander aimlessly as if they are just waiting for it all to end. It seems the harder that I try to climb the ladder towards the light, the more I get weighed down with all of the problems of the here and now. It is a daily struggle just to survive. Some people turn to playing with a ball in hopes of catching a shooting star out of the dreariness of this life. Others pick up a gun and some drugs and hope for the quick exit. Most get what they want, just not in the way they figured. Every time I get hit, I dig deeper into a book. To some it seems like a pointless waste of time, but I know it holds the key to what I want. It holds the key to my dream, the freedom I so desire, the freedom I believe in. If I can just hold on and get past one more month, one more day, one more moment, I can cross the bridge out of my unchosen place and climb all of the way out into the light, into the freedom I dream of.

One nation prospers and another languishes. The people who run the show set up barriers to our understanding of each other. Some starve while others gorge themselves and become complacent. All the time behind the curtain the strings are pulled like a show full of marionettes. Resources are unevenly distributed, while one place sits on vast treasure but cannot get a slice of bread to eat. Others come in and devour the substance of the poor while complaining about paying for the people they impoverished. Despite the best efforts of many with good intentions, a selfish few create sorrow for the masses. They grow full like a tick while they starve the rest for their own selfish ends. If the people simply were to stop and really look, they would understand that there is plenty to go around and that a warm bed and good meal is all that they require and that is enough.

I saw a stranger standing with a sign. It said please help me, and I drifted in my mind. To a night not so long ago, when I was down on my knees. I was lost and troubled and needed help you see. I met a soldier just the other day, he sat in a wheelchair right next to me. I thought of a time when I could not walk on my own. When I had to be carried because I could not do it alone. Then I saw another person lending a helping hand. I thought of the times that I had been that man. In all of these things, I could see a part of me. I could see the man I was, and that Jesus was always with me.

Stay back, don't cross the imaginary line. Obey the rules and you will be just fine. Conform, become whatever you are told to be. That is how you are kept in check, that is how they control you and me. What if you step over, what if you go to the other side? They will discourage you; they will push you back behind the line. So, what is the point of living if you have to become what others want you to be? Isn't freedom an illusion that they try to sell to you and me. What if one day, we all just say fine! We all have decided that we will not conform, that we will not stay behind the line?

We have been bombed, we have been invaded. We have suffered great tragedies, but we have persevered. We fight among ourselves but do not mistake dissension for weakness. We bicker and quarrel, but when we are threatened we will unite. The rest of the world may go to hell but America will survive

we consider it a mystery why we repeat our history, we wonder why we often blunder and fail. The truth lies in our past, we fail to heed its warnings. We wake up only after disaster has struck us down. In the shambles of our tragedy, we bemoan and opine oh why weren't we warned. When the truth lays before us, it is our own arrogance that destroyed us, because we believed that we did not need to remember what history taught us.

Sorrows and love all through adversity. My life is written in a book for eternity. On each page a day is recorded. Kindness and mercy shown on my journey. Each trial I go through strengthens me. Making me better than I used to be. I reach higher even when I fall. I want to do better and leave goodness behind. Perhaps a better world for others to find. Each day that passes I add another page to the book of my life.

They cry about injustice but then want to persecute the rest of us. They say they don't have enough, then they destroy others property. They demand that the government give them equality , but then try to take away what makes us free. Civil rights are only for those who are woke, it might be funny but it isn't a joke. Our leaders aren't what they used to be, they are now friends of tyrany. If we don't say what they want to hear, then they surpress free speech everywhere. Without one nation under God we are divided. So the die is cast it has been decided. Through lies and subversion they have cut down the tree of liberty. You can only be right if you believe what they say. Free will has been taken away. Can it get worse, yeah you bet! Tell me are you WOKE yet?

I sit on the veranda and look out over the fields. Across the land scape of the vineyards that have been cared for with my own hands. As the sun sets I raise a glass of my own making, a fermented bouquet of wine in celebration of of life at sunset.

The world is being torn apart like a jigsaw puzzle thrown out of the box by an angry child. A few are trying to overcome the many by putting them inside a cage. It is if they want chaos instead of order. Trying to contain a free thing, they forget that there are consequences for their actions. They are attempting to push a square stone up a hill only to have it slide backwards again and again. They keep trying the same foolish thing expecting to receive a different results. Despite their best efforts, they will inevitably fail. You cannot control that which doesn't wish to be controlled. It always ends in tragedy that will be recorded by a poet or writer in a Sonnet that will soon be dismissed as a fantasy, while another group finds a new way to fail at what has been tried before. Leaving a shattered world in their wake for others to piece back together.

I found a pair of sandals in a second hand store. They were kind of dusty and they were well worn. I tried them on to see if they would fit, suddenly I began to feel where they had been. I saw a blind man sitting beside the road, I felt as if I had to help him. Then the image moved on, I was standing on a mountain with people below as far as the eye could see, I felt that they had come to listen to me. On and on the images came to me until finally I saw a man calling to me. He had wounds in his hands and feet he was standing on a path before me. As I drew closer, I stepped into his shoes, he said the decision is yours, only you can choose?  So I kept the sandals on and went to pay for them you see. The man who owned the shop said that there would be no charge, simply follow me.

Left or right, liberal or conservative, ideologies do not put food in a hungry child's belly. Foreign aid, domestic spending, in the end, where does the money really go. Trillions are spent by both sides but the poor still seem to be poor. Perhaps we should get rid of  the ideological leaders and give the average person a chance. How would a waitress make the law work, would a carpenter do better at rebuilding our inner cities. Perhaps if we move beyond the politics and let real people have a chance, then the world beca better place.

Divisions are everywhere , society is filled with despair. The liberal liars revel in the chaos. They crave disharmony and lust for power. They despise freedom and embrace tyranny. They want destruction so that they may feed on crumbs of the despair of others. They speak with a silver tongue, deception is worn by them like a shroud. They hide in plain sight among a crowd. Little liars liberals all, sitting around waiting for the fall. So they can pick up the pieces of what is broken and create their utopia. You must simply be compliant and voice no resistance. Just be compliant or they will become insistent. In lock step they come, in unison they March to the same drum. Free will is a danger to their plans. Individual choice cannot be allowed to stand. So they will tell you that you are a nonconformist, they will say that you are not normal like the rest of us. The fact is that there is no compromise there is only one truth. That is what ever they choose.

I picked up a bunch of stones laying around and put them in a pile. I then dug up some uneven ground and began laying the stones down. I worked tirelessly for years building a path. Until I had run out of stones and my strength was spent. Then as I sat down, I happened to look back. I saw others gathering stone and walking on my path. Though they did not see me as they walked past. I watched them laying their own stones on my created path.

I saw her in the bar, sitting down on one end. Her hair laying all wild over her dark brown skin. Her dress was long and flowing, her shoulder straps lay to one side. Her breast could barley kept inside. I saw her looking at me, as she pursed her lips. I walked down towards her and she gave me a wicked smile. I asked what they called her and she magic, she then asked if I would like to get wild. She took me by he hand, and said let's go dance. We let ourselves go into the music, it felt like I was in a trance. From the dance floor to my front door, it all happened way too fast. Clothes flying body's writhing, I can't remember what was first and what was last. All I know is that when the morning light came in my window, she had gone away. There was just a note on my night stand, that said see you again sometime. I'm now under the spell of a girl named magic, who gave me one hell of a time.

One nation under God is no longer the plan. We will fix it ourselves, we no longer need a divine hand. Our government will give us everything, but will leave us with nothing. Just like sheep to the shearing we quietly go along. The heathen have infected the halls of power, now America is divided, there is no room for compromise. They say we have a mountain to climb, but in truth we are lost in a desert. Our moral compass is broken and it cannot get a reset. The seeds of dissension are being planted at every turn. It is no longer about helping, but it is about what is in it for me. United we might still stand but divided from God and each other, we will surely fall.

Platitudes from a silver tongue sooth the worries. High minded promise fill the hearts of many. Things that seem bright are often found empty. Hollow words that promise everything but deliver nothing. So many pretty things that entice and please the ear. Until the platitudes fail and the plan unravels. Then the harsh truth becomes clear that the words are empty after all.

I try to read what is in your eyes, they say that they are the window to the soul. I shiver when you stand next to me. I know that we are friends, but I would like it to be more. I am filled with hope, some of the signs are there, but I have to be sure. I will only give my heart away once, so I must get it right. I just need to know before I go crazy, are you in love with me?

The moment was unforgettable, the waiting came to an end. The words were surreal, time seemed to stop. My heart dropped and my eyes couldn't focus. A shiver ran through me from my toes to my ears. No sound could be heard as everything faded away. I hung on every word the day that the world went silent and he told me he loved me.

I saw a blue bird today. As blue as a Saphier the bird flew by. In a landscape that had gone dreary and Grey a splash of spring came my way. Landing on a fence post the bird just looked around, like a painted fixture out of place . I did not wonder why the bird came by, I only know that I had found unique beauty in a dark winter scape.  Like joy you find in a morning sunrise, after a night of rain. My soul was lifted up in knowing beauty has not left the world around me.

They say with age comes wisdom, but in fact with Wisdom, comes confusion. What I thought I knew I do not know and what was real is now surreal. Time didn't move fast enough when I was young, but now that I am old, it is a precious commodity. Though I have read many books, others opinions now seem less important than my own. If I could impart lessons, I would want to teach only myself. I am not sure what I am supposed to have learned through a lifetime of study, but I am sure it is not what I wanted to understand. The world was a lot simpler when the sky was blue, water was wet and the sun was warm. Now that I have gained knowledge, the more I know the less I understand of what it all means.

The timber is stained with the Crimson flow. The nail holes tell the story. The turning point of eternity, the place where all can become worthy. The Crimson flow that makes you white as snow. The place where a choice is made. On a barren hill, the cross road can heal it all.

Let the cold drops wash over me! Let the water cleanse me! Let my silhouetted form in the Darkness add a sense of Mystery as to why I am here. Some people run from the Thunder, I embrace the lightning from the sky. I relish the cold water as it falls over every inch of me. I shake my head and let my hair flow freely. Water drenches me and sets me free. I become one with the Skyfall as I shed all of my pain. I am what was and will be again, I am reborn in the rain

I know all of the verses and I can tell you what it is about. I can tell you who Jesus is, of that there is no doubt. I can comfort you and pray for you, as much as you like. I can be there for you at midday or at midnight. What I cannot do is take away your sin, there is only one can do that, he is my dearest friend. So if you feel a tugging at heart, don't let it go by. Open up the door and let my friend inside. Despite all of the things I can do, the one thing I can't is believe for you!

I wake up at night in a cold sweat. I toss and turn on my bed. I am afraid to close my eyes for fear I will see my friends. The ghost I left behind, on the battle field. The people on who I could depend. They are gone and I am here and it just not fair. I keep their memory trapped deep down inside, sometimes I cannot silence their voices, I just want to die. People tell me that it is ok, but the weren't there. They don't know what I went through, so how can they say that they care? I keep fighting the battle even though the war is over for me. I guess I just have to accept that I brought the battle home with me.

Our politicians steal our wealth and send it away from our own. They preach to us about how we should embrace the world, as children are starving here at home. We send our young men and women to die in a foreign land, for what we don't understand. Other countries tell us how we should live, then they demand that we give and give. Perhaps we should close the door for just a little while. In fact let's bring every one of our warriors home. We can put them to work solving the problems we have right here. We can step back from the rest of the world and let the caring start here.

The wreath is hung upon my door. The tree is all lit up. The cookies are baking in the oven not much more that can be done. No one comes to call, my door bell doesn't ring. I am sitting alone again among so many shiny things. There are no Carols to be sung, there is no reason you see. I just sit quietly and look out the frosted window as the world passes by me. I don't mind being alone, I have lots of things to pass my time. So many books to read, surveys to be done online. My family is somehow to busy, they have their own lives to live. So I just sit here quietly with so much love to give. I will endure one more holiday by myself. Then I will fold everything up and put my memories neatly on the shelf. I have one lone present underneath my shiny tree, it is to me from me, I can't wait to open it you see. So here I sit alone, another season passes for me. I will be alone for Christmas, but that is all right you see.

I have traveled through life and I have seen many things. I have been to many places and met many people. Though I have never done one great thing, I have given of myself. I have tried to leave kindness everywhere I have gone. Some might think this trivial, but I think it has it's worth. Forest don't come prepackaged neither does a world change overnight. Sometimes you aren't called on to be a great hero, just to be kind to someone in need. Giving a glass of water or simply sitting and listening to a persons troubles is sometimes all that is needed. When a troubled soul is at peace, then hope can begin to grow. With each person helped as I walked down the road. I did nothing extraordinary, I just filled a need. It was really nothing at all, I only planted seeds.

The shadows have grown long and the sun is setting low. My steps have slowed down and fewer friends come to call. The world has gotten faster as I have slowed down. More and more I blend into the background when I go out. I am simply part of the scenery, seen but not acknowledged. My days are all the same, nothing out of the ordinary happens. I have more time to enjoy life, but less life to enjoy. As I see the world move past me, I try to catch my breath. Perhaps it is for the best, if I just care away. I wonder if anyone will miss me when I'm gone?

Just because something looks pleasant doesn't mean it is good for you. A pretty berry can be poison. A elegant person can be brutally cold and condescending, while a person of lesser stature may be warm in welcoming. They say do not judge a book by it's cover. Many persons hide what they truly are. Like a plant that appears to be a delicate flower, only to ensnare you once you have gotten to close, saying what ugliness truly is, often depends on what you define as beautiful for yourself.

Looking for inspiration ,letting the mind wander and the eye catch something to inspire you. In a world full of clutter, getting inspired doesn't always come easy. Some think beauty brings out words, but ugliness can create inspiration. Simplicity is not always the best form, sometimes complexity is required. Finding layers to peel away until you get to the truth of what you are looking for, can be exhausting but sometimes it is worth the effort. Is a cat on a fence, just a cat on a fence? Why is the cat there and what is it's purpose? A muse is not simply one thing for all people, it can be many things for many. You just have to look until you find what inspires you.

Sitting here at 2 am I cannot sleep. The only sound is the ticking of the clock. In my mind I go over what went wrong. we were so happy then it won't all wrong. So moments turn into hours as I wait until daylight comes. In the night I am lost in anxiety watching the hours fade away.

I knock on a door dark as Mohogany . The heavy brass knocker doesn't thunder but taps lightly. I anticipated a forebodeing when this moment came. On the doorstep of eternity I wait for my opening. As suddenly as I drew my last breath, the last barrier fades away and light overwhelms me. As my soul surrender I think to myself, this isn't so bad after all.

I am not sure what is wrong, but I feel that she is somehow different. Perhaps I am paranoid, but I feel that something is going on. She smiles differently these days, she seems to glow with a new light. It didn't come over night, but it is beginning to worry me. She plays with her hair as she did when she first met me. She giggles like a teenage girl, when she is on a phone call but not with me. I fear that I may come in and she will just be gone. Perhaps I worry too much, but subtle changes have been happening for too long.

I walk on egg shells everytime I go out. My nerves are frayed like a split wire. I feel like I am drowning in a river of sweat as I walk down the street. I keep my jacket and hood tight around me. The light of day burns me like a searing iron. Eyes are everywhere and everyone, at least what my paranoia is telling me. I try to walk quickly so we not to draw attention to myself. Getting back inside is all that matters to me. My veins burn and my heart races as I crave the sustenance that calms me. Into my building and up the stairs, the light bulbs flicker and the back ground noises buzz in my head. I struggle to get my key into the lock of the door. The pain grows like a wave inside me, I am living on a kniefs edge and I am about to fall off.