Tired and despondent I scream at the night. Overrun by the hoards of angry voices on my t.v. . I clamor for a place only to be shut out, I am tired and I will not be silent yet again. Joining with like minded people, I rise up against a corrupt and broken system. I rage and rattle the doors to my cage. I am the one who makes the machine work, those at the top only pull leavers. The cogs must turn in order for things to function, when one cog stops, perhaps it is ignored, but when several seize up, the machinery comes to a screeching halt. This time is different, this time the system must pay heed. The old masters have been dealt a critical blow. Those of us who are under the levers of the operators have decided that we will not be ignored again. The wheels come to a screeching halt and the noises of the parts of the machine will not be silenced again.

Putting up with the sniffles and watching love stories until my mind is numb. Rubbing your tired feet and listening to you complain. Giving support even when I want to give you advice. Fighting, then swallowing my pride to admit that I am wrong. Trying not to forget your birthday and remembering an anniversary. Some of the things that make love difficult you see. Though it gets difficult, I would not change a thing, for I am truly in love you see.

I feel sick then I feel well. I am cold then I am hot. It is not an infection, I am not sure what I have got. I think perhaps that I get it when you enter the room. My pulse quickens and I feel light headed. Am I having a heart attack, I cannot be sure. I know when you speak my name that I want to fall to the floor. Love seems to be something that has taken hold of me. How can one emotion have so many different symptoms, can anyone please explain it to me.

Into a blizzard with blinding snow. Ice covered the roads and the wind was bitter cold. Into the unknown holding onto faith and hope. In the distance between there and nowhere, a distant shadow walking lost in the night. Faint moon light shimmers between the dancing snowflakes as I return to check again. Not knowing what I will find, is it an enemy or a friend. For what divine purpose, perhaps I will never know. I only know I have been called to pull a wandering soul from the snow. Half frozen and desperate to get back home, I was called to be the hands of God and return a wanderer safely back to where they had been. I know not what happened to that imperiled soul beyond that night. I only know that I did that which was right. I can only hope that the gift or rescue I gave in the fathers name, will be passed on by the soul I helped to another who is in need.

Oh majestic beauty who's face launched a thousand ships. How magnificent your tragedy is. To flee from wrongful persecution the roaring of the crowd of your accusers. Into the arms of another and the fate of empires lies in the balance. To know that you are sought as a prize worthy of the avarice of kings. How you end as deception brings down a kingdom. Vengeful are thy pursuers in their lust. How their cries for blood haunt you and the hateful venom of their envy brings you low. Take heart, for history will judge you and perhaps remember you kindly. For you were not the architect of your undoing, but the fates did touch you from birth and put your beauty on a path from which you could not veer left or right, until the final judgment came upon those who coveted you and those who spurned you in the blood letting of violence that shattered many lives and taught lessons that few would be willing to learn.

She told me her name was Heaven, she said she would show me one hell of a time. Her Green eyes glistened like two fire brands and her dark hair clouded my mind. I was lost in the subtle smell of Roses that gently scented her skin. After one wild night with her, I will never be the same again. She broke my will and wrapped me around her finger. It is been twenty years now and her memory still lingers in my mind. Though I have loved another, one memory still haunts me from time to time. The night I spent in Heaven, having one hell of a time.

In a land where dust blows over hard lifeless ground and children cry in their mothers arms. Hope is a luxury and want is an ever real fact of life. As mindless hate filled people battle over table scraps, while the innocent and the forgotten lay in want. Despite the best efforts of the brave and the selfless, the help seems to never be enough. On any given day, people are grateful for a piece of bread and clean water to drink, yet we take these things for granted. So do not forget the blessings you hold dear, for they can be taken away in a moment by the hateful and the selfish. Eternal vigilance is the price that must be paid, and reverent thanks is what heaven requires lest our land fall into despair and want and we too have little to be thankful for.

There was a song from not so long ago, the self righteous chanted four dead in Ohio. Now the same ideologues have gained power you see. They sat idly by with stark indifference as four were killed in Benghazi. Where have the protest gone, where did the moral outrage go. Where did the righteous anger get to when in Benghazi hero's blood did flow. So in Ohio it was a righteous day, but in Libya they chose to look the other way. Oh how they change their ways when it is a different kind of war. When the blood flowed, they just didn't care anymore.

On ground drenched with my tears, the earth has turned lifeless and Gray. The grass is brown and the trees have all withered away. No birds sing anymore and the sky is always dark and the wind is dry. No puddles of rain form, nothing comes from the sky. All of the life is gone from the place where I used to know love. All I hear is the mocking of the wind as it blows hot and dry from above. Not even a **** will blossom in my world. No flowers to give off their pleasing scent, not a blossom or a bloom. Just dried clumps of dust where salt has drenched the life out the ground. I live without beauty where flowers won't bloom anymore.

I ate my Thanksgiving meal from a can and didn't get to watch football on T.V. . I was standing watch in Afghanistan but that is all right you see. I will not be doing any shopping or mailing any presents home. I will simply be looking at a few cards that I get from family and friends. The only fire I will see will be in my tent stove. I will be outside a lot, while my family is warm and safe back home. So when you open your presents that are under the Christmas tree and have a cup of good cheer, please have one for me. I am good with my situation, and I don't expect some of you to understand. I will be standing a lonely watch for peace and good will towards men. Though I'll be alone for Christmas in spirit you will be here with me. Until I am properly relieved, please save a place for me.

All hail the team that will win it all. All stand in adoration of the conquering hero's. Rise and chant now the mantra of your favorite team. Now is the day of battle. See the mascot that has become an idol. Worship at it's feet and pray for victory. Be all consumed by the passion, one will prevail and one will fall. To the victors go the spoils and the glory, to the vanquished, goes a sense of emptiness and unrequited loss. Let each day pass until at next our hero's take the field of battle. Until then the faithful wait in patients as if hoping for a messiah to come. Longing to revel in the glory of the moment, but that is mortal and fleeting. So goes the worship at the Cathedral of the church of football.

A vast gulf stands between our souls. We each want something different and we cannot even agree to disagree. While we offer the Olive branch, the others rattle sabers and cry for war. It is their way or no way, even though we won the day. There is no surrender, only venom and vitriolic hate. They would rather scorch the earth than surrender one inch of ground. Now the roar is getting louder and there is no right way. We must gird ourselves and prepare the battle as no words of kindness will soothe the wounds that have been opened without a single blow. Now is the time of endurance, now is the time to be strong. The rift will not be healed by intolerance but there is little in the way of hope. So we must simply wait, until cooler heads prevail and we can sit quietly at a table again as brothers despite our differences. Until then we bear our shields and defend ourselves as best we can, until once again we can safely cross the great divide.

The alarm clock rings way too early or way too late depending on your point of view. Toys strewn about the house make an obstacle course and my things are all over the place. Blindly I stumble towards one of many cups of coffee, only to find the *** is bitterly cold. I sit on a cold thankless chair as I wait for the black nectar to brew. I hear screams coming from the bathroom, I am not sure if they are yells of delight or terror. I would take a vacation, but then who would solve the problems I would leave behind. I am sure that there is help here somewhere, I just have to get him awake. I do not live a life, I live in a puzzle box. As life is on most mornings, I am not together.

Down I go into the murky deep. Let the dark water wash me away. Down into the depths I descend. I am forgotten and I want to forget. On the sand bottom of some deep water, in the cold darkness I am immersed into numbing silence. At last I can lose all feeling and have no memory of the pain. Let the water become angry and the wind howl above me. I will rest now and forever in my new safe haven as I let the waves roll over me.

Do not mind my presence, I will not be here for long. My footprint will not impose on your world. Just as quickly as dust blows away in the wind, so will my life be in the end. I was born a poor mans son and I have been forced to work all of my life. I have not attained fame and fortune, but I have gained enough. Soon I will fade from existence, my part in the greater play will be at an end. For the most part I will be forgotten from the minds of men. For good or ill, I will have lived my life, then exit stage left I am gone. So if you happen to take notice of me, it will be a fleeting one. I will be on to bigger and better things as I leave this mortal journey and my real voyage into eternity begins.

Hate and ridicule comes to the forefront. Anyone who disagrees is a bigot you see. Differing opinions must be silenced, that is just how it has to be. Hiding behind children used as human shields, to deflect attention from the problems that are all too real. Spreading lies and fomenting dissent, that is the mantra they live by everyday. Dissenting at the ideas of cutting a budget or project, that uselessly gives tax dollars away. Individualism is overrated, on government you must depend. If you dare to move off of the grid, you must be insane. A disease for the unwashed masses who walk around like a heard of Lemmings. Liberalism, the modern incarnation of Marxist communism.

The heavens wrap around me and immerse me in the coldness of it's touch. Between warm stars that give their light to celestial bodies where life may flourish. I drift from point to point with no concept of time. All things are simply beginning and ending, then starting again. I have seen worlds that are the things of imagination where mystical and unnatural things exist in harmony with reality. Consumed by the eternal journey, I drift among the points of light in search of myself.

Oh creeping snake that wanders through tree branches and wraps around other plants. How you dangle and hang from the reaches of the heights. Your roots are deep in the dark dank soil of the forest as mist rises from the floor to engulf the canopy. You put forth delicate shoots and fragrant flowers that entice a host of your neighbors to delight on your foliage. Despite your favorable nature, you still make my skin crawl. Like a green serpent you wind your way in many directions, not knowing where you begin or end. I will respect you from a far distance and hope that are paths do not cross again.

When no one is different and we all are treated the same. When everyone has the same chances. When there is no hunger or want and no one has more than another. When our children play safely with each other and there is no separation or division between us. When one person does not judge another and no one oppresses another, perhaps then we will be living in a perfect world.

Daring to leave my comfort zone and learning about myself by getting to know something new. Expanding my horizons by walking beyond my own front door. Reading something I have not read, working with someone new. Learning new life lessons that I can carry with me where ever I go. These are things that make adventure worth while. This is what it means to become alive and get out of your shell. The world is not such a fearful place, once you learn to take a chance. While there are dangers in anything we do, discovery is one of the most wonderful parts of being alive.

I shoot up with sharp edges and I am filled with green. I long to be in the sun. I hope to grow up tall and limber, but there is a good chance I will get mowed down. If I get cut back, I will simply push down my roots and attempt to grow again.

Tall live Oak trees tower over the landscape. Willow trees reach out and touch the ground with it's limbs. Children run in between the branches at play. A warm breeze blows across the fields that are ripe with corn and cotton. People sit by a river bank with a hook in the water watching the deep dark water flow by. Families gather to cook out and share stories as generations pass on from one to the next. The sun rises and sets gently as the day passes with ease of life. The heart of the summer brings out the best of life in the south.

If I only had one day to live, I would start early to make amends. I would undo all that I had done  to hurt strangers and friends and the family that I love. I would give more than I have ever given before. I would do that and just a little bit more. I would share words of kindness with everyone I saw. I would not be to busy for anyone at all. I would step outside and enjoy whatever the day would bring. I would dance whether it was sun, snow, or even dark clouds and rain. I would make each second precious because I would know it would be my last. Then when the sun set and I breathed my last, I would thank God in heaven that he let me go out this way. I would be very grateful that I had just one special day.

The shadows fall over me and I can't seem to shake them. The clouds fill my eyes and I cannot see beyond my own door. I walk around in a haze and cannot find a light. The night and day are the same. Oh how I long to be warm again and to feel safe in my own skin. I cannot remember what day is like, nor the smell of fresh flowers. So to what ever power holds creation, please set my spirit free. Remove the chains of despair that hold me since my love left me. Let me walk again in the radiant light and let my misery be done. Oh how I just want to see the sun.

Sitting by the water watching the leaves fall into a stream. Each one begins it's journey on to an unknown place. The wind blows the water that runs still and deep, each wave moves out as a ripple towards the sandy bank where it stops, yet the wind keeps going on. Beneath the surface I stare at fish darting about as I see my own reflection under the Steel Gray sky. Shimmering in my reflection like Silver that you could just reach out and take in your hand. I realize that I am only seeing a ghost of where I exist. The world around me goes silent as in a moment I find understanding. The wind, the water and every living thing is a part of something greater and my life is only a brief reflection of the part of the whole that I must play in the grand scheme of things.

I climbed on your limbs when I was a child. I built my first house in you. I hung my swing from your strongest branch and I carved my history into your bark. You have weathered the storms with me and you are my favorite place to think. Now in the long days of my life, you comfort me. In your shade I take rest from my labors and watch others play in you. As you stand a sentinel I will likely take my final rest under your branches. Live long my old friend and give comfort to others have you have given it to me.

Stomp, stomp, stomp goes the elephant as it rampages through the countryside. Trumpet goes it's cry as it runs over it adversaries. It's Ivory tusk glisten as it lunges towards the top of the hill from which it will survey the land. Leaving a path of destruction in it's wake, it thunders to supremacy over the width and breadth of it's habitat. Looking at all who are under it's shadow, it vows to never forget.

Golden flower that annoys my lawn. Puffy white seed pod that drives my cat insane. Flower of Irish lore and a recipe for stew. How I love and loathe you. While you are pretty to look at, you cause me great distress. You come on like an invading army, blotching my landscape with your golden pimples. I cut you down yet you flourish, just a little lower to the ground. Then at the appointed time, you morph into snowballs of allergic terror, giving my sinuses fits. So oh Dandelion, I will love you from afar while trying to find a way to get rid of you. Until the frost comes our relationship will be one of love and hate. May winter find you and **** you off, as the frost helps me bid you goodbye.

The world loves all that I personify, I am the epitome of greatness. I am self absorbed with my own personal appearance. No opinion matters except mine. I am correct and the rest of the world is wrong. I am a success at all that I do. All of these things are realized before I get out of bed at noon.

When peace resounds and you can do no wrong. When you have found a moment of perfection in life. When you know all the answers and have success beyond measure, know that it is not a dream. Not all days are stormy and not everyone is unlucky forever. From time to time favor will find you. So when you are walking in the peacefully valley beside the still waters, remember to give thanks. So that when the storm finds you again and the road becomes rough, you will not forget what it is like when you walked in blessings.

Lights flash and music blares out of speakers from a store. Signs try to get me to spend the money I don't have. Cars race down the street in a never ending stream of vanishing people. They just look forward not seeing the people they are passing by. I go to school and then come out here, the streets are lined with tall buildings that choke out the sky. At night they look pretty, but they are empty shells that I can never get into. In certain dark alleys, you can hear the sound of a baby crying from an apartment back deep into the shadows. On a side street littered with garbage and the shattered dreams of kids, who don't know what having enough is I walk. I listen to the hustlers talk their game as they run with the rats that come up out of the sewer. They sell their false hopes in the form of pills and lies. The only difference between them an the rats is the number of legs one has over the other. I climb up a rusty fire escape in hopes of finding the sky. I see a few bleak looking points of light that I think might be stars. After a while I just shuffle back down to my room and crawl into bed between two other people an fade into the darkness of an uneasy sleep as I dream about life in the city.

Play the strings on the Mandolin and strum the guitar. Play an Irish jig or a Spanish ballad. Let the music flow and wash over the people. Give merriment to the heart of those who have burdens to lay down. Shake the Tambourine and put you hands to the drum. Let the beat play until the night is gone. Give no reason for celebration other than to be alive. Let the hearts of the people rejoice in one another. In all manner of life, let things become surreal, let music inspire the movement and sharing of  all things, from the common in the street to the refinement of the great halls. Let music makes us alive and let us all dance.

Unicorns talk from the pillows that lay upon the bed. Butterflies come off of the wall paper and tea parties are the in thing. There is a villain and a hero and always a happy ending. Fantasy is everyday and rainbows are fun to slide down. The world is full of imagination and wonder as the ordinary becomes extraordinary. All dreams are possible if you only see the world through the eyes of a child.

When I was lost and confused, he wiped away my tears. When I was angry and afraid, he came to comfort me. When I was rebellious and spiteful, he waited patiently for me to come around. When I was weary from the journey, he lifted my burdens. When I did not know the way, he gave me a path to follow. When I thought I had failed, he showed me the victory. Despite what I have done wrong, God has always given me his love. The half I could not tell of what God has done for me.

You said you needed to find yourself and I said that was fine. I let you go footloose and fancy free. I found a place to build a house but it is not yet a home, I wait on you patiently. You came back my way and we got to talk for a while, but you told me you had this big dream. So I let you chase your rainbow, while I worked on my life, but it is not complete yet, because you are not here. I found peace of mind and you found the end of your rainbow, though it wasn't what you thought it would be. You come running back towards home and there you finally saw me. I smiled with opened arms, but you just broke down in tears. You said you are sorry for wasting so many years. I told you it was all right that we can start like yesterday never was. I have always been patiently waiting on your love.

The year draws to a close and autumn is in full swing. Winter is knocking at the door and soon it will be the holidays again. Many shall gather with family and friends to celebrate their gifts of thanksgiving. In this time of merriment and hope, where shall I be? Do I rest among the many gifts I have or shall I set aside my comfort to help another. When I can be safe and warm, should I look to give hope to another? As the time comes to give thanks and to receive comfort in the joy of family and friends, I ask myself where shall I be for the holidays.

Oh rough beast that looks back at me from my reflection at the bottom of the bottle before me. How I loathe to look at you and what you have become. I see a fraction of what you once were as I now feel you judging me. Howl at me with a scornful laugh if you like, but you are just the truth of who I am. So I will sit here for a moment with this empty glass staring at my reflection in a half empty bottle and decide if I will yield to temptation in order to avoid my own reality, or perhaps now that I have seen the unvarnished truth of what I have become or will become, I will pick myself up and stumble back to reality as I deal with my own guilt and shame.

Silver rays of light shine down as pixies open their wings from a sleepy day. Owls take flight as their golden eyes peer into the night. Fairies rise out of the quiet meadow and fly skyward towards the rising moon. With sacks made of golden thread, they fill them with moonbeams and shake out their dust. A cool breeze whips through the trees and scatters the magic over the veil. Gnomes come out to begin a harvest of mushrooms as fire flies flash and wink through the bushes and trees. Dark blue night orchids open their pedals to receive the lesser light as they perfume the air. Fish jump out of the water and flap their tails in the air whipping and snapping then falling back into the clear water. Life takes on a mystic feel as the night settles in and the moon finds it's apex before it begins its journey towards morning. It quietly watches as life follows it's light as all things dance in its silver glow.

Sitting upon quiet pools, opening their petals to the sun. They float gently but their roots hang into the deep dark midst of the water where the current runs deep. Fish dodge and swim between their tendrils as the flowers float along. Their leaves sit steadily as frogs hop from pad to pad. As the evening close in, the wind gently blows across the waters face taking the fragrant scent of the floating garden into the breeze for a journey to lovers walking along a path by a quiet pond.

To heaven I plead asking for comfort. In misery I call out with lamentation. I see those who persecute me and take away my joy, I call to the watchers of the lord. In the hour of temptation, let heaven hear my pleas. In the night watch when fear comes to over take me, let the sentry be set about me that my peace shall not leave me. Oh lord set your angels to watch over me.

A lone Yellow Orchid in a sea of red ones. A white rose among a bush full of yellow buds. A Lilly growing alone in the valley of heat and arid land. What may seem like mere idle flowers can be so much more. The Lilly in the valley can be come the image in a painting that gives inspiration and hope. The one Orchid that seems so out of place, says that not all things are the same and can yet hold beauty still. The rose of White among yellow buds perhaps suggest inclusion as they all come from the same bush. So the next time you see an unusual flower, just imagine what it can do!

Helping someone find a new way. Helping someone find their way home. Healing the broken and forgotten with mercy and kindness. Giving someone a kind word and an understanding ear. Changing one life at a time.

The frost covers the windows on several cars and ice covers the brown grass. The North wind whips and blows sending a chill down your spine. The days get shorter and the nights last a little bit longer each day. I am forced to wrap up in layers of clothing so I can stay warm. The good news is that people can no longer be sure who I am or what I really look like. The judgmental looks do not follow me as I walk down the street. People are forced to stay inside a lot and I can actually walk outside alone. I can finally clear my head of the clutter and suspicions and be completely empty. While I may freeze a bit, the idea of being free from the gaze and the opinions of others makes it worth while. So while many prefer the spring time or the summer sun, I find that winter is not so bad.

Look at high buildings and glass towers and consider not the maker of them. See the mother that works inside with two children who is barely getting by. Bestow gifts unto those who could never repay you. Give to the least among you and offer them a blessing. Let compassion shine unto the needy and the poor that you might receive gratitude and not personal gain. For the rich have plenty and would covet even what you have, but the poor and the helpless appreciate mercy and kindness and perhaps will render to others in kind.

People think that life is complicated, but it is really a recipe. Like making cookies or a cake, life requires a lot of whipping of the batter or kneading of the dough to smooth out the rough spots. All of the ingredients must be in balance in order for the batter to achieve the right consistency. The batter or dough must be poured or cut precisely, although it is sometime fun make things different shape. When the things of life  become complicated, just like the cake, go back to the recipe and read the instructions again. While life is happening, just like making cookies, take time to either lick the bowl or eat some dough. In the end with all confections as with life, the proof is in the pudding. If you have achieved balance, not left the food in the oven too long or dwelled on a problem too much, then you will have a great treat to eat, or wonderful times as long as you share with others either the cookies or life .

When the wind turns against me and the water begins to rage. When the night comes on quickly and the light of the heavens is canceled out. I will stand firm on my foundation, I will not fear or wavier. I shall hold fast to the rock that holds me up. I will look to the day star and hold on until morning breaks. In the lord I will trust as I weather the storm.

Holding tight in each others embrace. Lost in lust in a private place. Heaving chest rise and fall, naked and entangled in night were lost. Found in rapture, in the heat of the night. Deep sleeping beyond the mornings light. Holding each other as if our lives are about to end. Taking pleasure from each other again and again.

The grass flows down into meadows like a stream of Emeralds. It shimmers in the early morning mist as the sun breaks through the fog. The dew glistens like Diamonds on the trees and the flowers that open up to meet the new day. In echoes off of the side of high mountains you can hear the sweet serenade of many an Irish maid. With voices that could make an angel cry, they sing songs of life and laughter. Embracing the old land as they walk barefoot over the cool earth on their way to what ever task is at hand. Such is the heart of the old people who were born on the Emerald Isle. Such is the love in the heart of Ireland.

In my life your love is a comfort to me. Your gentle kindness gives me hope when my soul is troubled. You shine with the morning sun and your smile warms the day and wakes up the flowers of the garden. I know that I am a rough beast with many a burden to bear, but I can always return to safe haven in your loving arms. Even when the night is it's darkest, you are my guiding light and will give me a safe path home.

A shroud of darkness lays across tomorrow. Many are unsure what a new day will bring. Fear grips the hearts of many and cause them to doubt. Hope seems to fade and indifference begins to take hold. A curtain surrounds us and clouds our vision. It is only by wisdom that we can remove the veil of uncertainty. We must learn from our past in order to give hope to our future. Hold on to lessons of past failures and apply them to the present problems that we must go through. Only when our resolve is firm and we do not yield to doubt and fear, will we see a brighter day come.