It seems to me that the happiest people are people who barley have the,( I won't say necessities because that would mean to much to most of us in the US), let's say people who barley scrap by. Every day is a challenge to scrap up enough to eat and drink. These people seem to be closer to their families. They laugh more. They share more. They know what is in their brothers heart as well as what is in their own. They live a simple life spiritually and a hard life physically. No TV, no media, no Hollywood. Sometimes I wish I lived somewhere like Ethiopia or a hundred other places on this earth not bombarded every minute of every day with things. THINGS that are not important. To live where just to survive the day and have people to rejoice in that survival with is enough. Body and soul I long for the happiness that comes from a day well lived. We have become a nation that knows not how to live but how to be entertained. We never slow down to feel what's in our heart or to feed our souls. If we never listen to what is in our own heart how can we know what is in another heart. Oh just to live and not to judge. Is that possible? Can it be possible when we are bombarded with the latest, the greatest, the best of fashion, phone, game, religion? Who knows what I could do if I didn't have everyone telling me who or what I should be. And believe me it changes daily.  We all look at these " less fortunate" people on TV or in a magazine and we feel sorry for them when it is ourselves that we must feel sorry for. What is to become of us. We are a most intriguing people, we who have done so many amazing things, and yet most of us feel sad or lonely. Yes, you have a beautiful home. Yes, you have people who love you. But wait, how do you know they love you?.....well of course they love you, their suppose to love you, after all you love them.....right. I mean that's the way the story goes....right?  You know the story, the one you saw on Lifetime yesterday, while your loved ones were doing....ah what were they doing? Oh yes, your son was playing that new game, you know " **** Zombie ****" on that PlayStation or Nintendo or something like that, and your daughter was at the mall buying the latest thing to make her feel beautiful, and your husband was.....well he was doing something on the computer. How can you love someone if you don't know who they are. How can you love someone if you don't know who you are. All of this technology may be bringing the world closer but who needs to know the world when they don't even know their own family....,or their next door neighbor, the one that shot himself yesterday. No one knows why.  Please people , I beg you, put down the phone turn off the TV, go out on a date( not at the movies), but somewhere you can talk and get to know each other. And if you don't know what to say just say what's in your heart. After all that is what truly matters.  If you can realize that most of the things in your life are meaningless then you too can have a life well lived. In the end isn't that all that matters.  So for now I am signing out and switching off, and tuning in to my life.  For all I wish is to have a life well lived.

SPRING IS
Rainbows and flowers,
Umbrellas and showers.

Easter eggs and bunnies
And bees making honey.

Green grass and daffodils
And hiking on new trails.

Gardens and fishing poles
And leisurely strolls.

SUMMER IS
Sunflowers and kites
And kids riding bikes.

Sunshine and shade,
Hot dogs and lemonade.

Sandcastles and waves
And long lazy days.

Home runs and sliders
And flying new gliders.

FALL IS
Long walks and sweaters,
Touchdowns and headers.

Red leafs and golden,
Soon to be stolen.

Pumpkins and costumes
And witches on brooms.

Turkey and dressing
And family blessings.

WINTER IS
Snowmen and scarfs,
Getting warm by the hearth.

Ice skates and hot chocolate
And gloves in your pocket.

Trees all alight
And cold winter nights.

Santa and sneezes
And little baby Jesus.

I look in the mirror
And see an old face.
My youth has absconded
at a frightful pace.

Where is the bounce
that I had in my step?
It seems at a cliff, in
my life, it had leapt.

It seems only yesterday
My life was so full.
The business of children
And life was a whirl.

An old woman you see,
But my  life is like yours,
Gone in a blink, not
keeping the scores.

Good times remembered
And always will be.
But sickness of heart
will be my final decree.

For people can see
in my eyes so clear,
That the way of my life
runs down my cheek,
   (in a tear)

When I answer to God
I will hold my head low,
And hope that he sees
I have nowhere to go.

For life went so fast
Seemed I had no control.
Forgiveness I ask Him.
Please take my soul.

Late last night I saw something fall from the sky,
I happened to be in the kitchen making tuna on rye.
As I looked out my window it landed in my yard.
It crushed the pink flamingos, the wife took it hard.

I stood there at the window taking in the sight,
Bright lights flashing red, blue, and white.
Then suddenly a door slid open, I was seized by fright.
But my wife had gone out the door, in her hand a kitchen knife.

As the little green man stepped out, he was looking fine,
In a tye dye tee shirt, waving his hands in a peace sign,
Looking like he had come straight from the sixties,
I think he was expecting to find some hippies.

Thinking this guy might be peaceful, I tackled my wife,
As she dropped the knife, I yelled, "He might be nice".
The little green man then pulled out a bic and gave it a flick,
As he held two finger to his lips, I realized his vice.

As I had given that up long ago, I had nothing to share.
But the little guys face showed such despair,
I went into the house and got the beer from the fridge,
And grabbed the Nacho Doritos for this astorial kid.

We sat on the lawn chairs out under the sky,
drinking the beer, eating tuna on rye.
I asked where he was from, he just pointed up.
When we finished our beers, I said good luck.

Back to the spaceship the little man went,
his steps were unsteady, I think he was spent.
He got in the spaceship and closed the door.
As I waved goodby, the spaceship took off with a roar.

I heard on the news later that night,
That something had crashed in a field, lips were tight.
But I heard a rumor, that someone was found alive.
I guess I should have told him not to drink and fly.

Her beautiful memories she kept in a box.
A box in her closet, inside it a lock. 
A lock of red hair from someone she knew,
from someone she loved when he was brand new.
 
She gave him her heart before he was born ,
she never thought twice, it was his all along. 

A little small shoe lay next to the lock,
and next to the shoe was a little small sock.
The sock to remind her of ten little toes.
The shoes to remind her that someday he'd go.

She gave him her heart, She knew he would break it.
She never thought twice, he'd need it to make it.

Last in the box was a photo of him,
his clothes all a mess, and that silly grin. 
She loved him now like she loved him then,
In her eyes he could do no sin.
 
She gave him her heart before he was born.
She never thought twice, it was his all along.
 
What beautiful memories he keeps in his heart,
the one that she gave him before he was born.

The cicadas come every seventeen years.
They make a lot of noise.
You better cover your ears.
The cicadas come every seventeen years.

Little ones, don't you fear.
Go inside and find your toys.
The cicadas come every seventeen years.
They make a lot of noise.

The television again assaults my senses.
Yet all this technology forms a comfortable distance.
There is no need to do the division,
the world was polled, and here's your decision.
I feel I need some personal attention,
But all I get is some kind of technician.

Everything good starts with a pick and a guitar.  In some mystical way when the guitar starts to play, the tones and the truth and the tales ride the waves, the waves of sound in the air, in the air. If I close my eyes while the music plays, will this moment be remembered forever, forever.  The bodies around me are holding me up, we all bounce, and we move, and we move, like we're one. There is no me, only us, only us, and this BOOM, BOOM, BOOM,BOOM.  And the sound is in control, that's why they call it rock-n-roll.  Forget who you are. Forget where your at, forget, forget,... remember. You feel so small, so small,... so big.  All this love, this love, we are all made of love.  And on the way home, your ears ring and they ring and the smile on your face tells it all,... tells it all.  And the feeling is filling and satisfying.

In the beginning of the world the earth and sky were one creature, and it was the hardest thing to tear them apart. They loved each other soooo much. And that's why it rains, the earth and the sky are always trying to get back together.

Warm sun upon my face,
cool earth on my back.
A wisp of wind, and flowers of all colors,
like a world of stained glass
moving back and forth with the warm air.
I breath a deep satisfying breath
that fills my soul with all the colors of the world.
The wind moving through the trees
are like the earth's great breath.
I am a child again,
free from my worldly duties.
My mind drifts, like the birds on the wind above,
back and forth, back and forth,
back and forth, with the rhythm of the earth.

I am the shadow on the moon at night. I am the lonely wolf howling, that makes your skin crawl and your mouth go dry. I am the hooting owl, I am the black cat. I am the fog, rolling in from the river, that covers your path. I am the wind that whistles around your window pane. I am the tap, tap, tapping that drives your mind insane. I am the monster in your closet, I am the darkness in the corner. I am the witches cackle, I am the soulful mourner, weeping in the night. I am the hair on your neck when a ghost walks by. I am the scarecrow  in the field, among the corn rolls neatly tilled. I am the spider that crawls over your hand. I am the silence that rolls over the land. I am the breath you hold, when you look under your bed. I am the blanket you pull over your head. I am the fears, never said, when you crawl in your bed. I am the dead, laying in their graves, with something left to say. I am your imagination, and I've come to carry you away.

I heard of a woman who lived in the hollow.
Her screams were so sad you could feel her sorrow.
There's a house in the woods, just north of the creek.
They say she still lives there, but she never speaks.

Her husband came home drunken and mad.
The baby was crying, what he done was real bad.
Some nights you can see her wading the creek.
She splashes the water; her baby she seeks.

They say you can hear, on clear starry nights.
A small baby crying, and a poor mothers fright.
But don't stay to long; he mourns for them too.
He walks through these woods, looking for you.

They say that he hung himself the very next day.
And a pact with the devil was what he had made.
To get back his child, he must do the devils bidding.
And he walks through these woods, taking the living.

This world I have cherished.
This world has been kind.
This world can be beautiful.
But it would never be mine.

I have shook with the thunder.
I have tasted earths wine.
I saw the miracle of new life.
Yet it was all lost in time.

I have sailed the morning tide.
I have walked through misty valleys.
I have seen the pale moon, and
I have walked the darkest alleys.

Although these things did catch my eye.
God's hand I took, for the rest was a lie.

When Grandma was old,
what stories she told.
She knew every ryhme,
every verse every time.

I'd sit in her lap,
and say Grandma please.
Please tell me another
another one please.

I am not now who I was before.
When I was young I knew the score.
To me there was just black or white.
But now I know what's worth the fight.

I've learned that things aren't what they seem.
The *** on the street is not really a fiend.
He was not always drunken on *****;
After all is that the life you would choose?

It pains me to think that I was so sure
of how life should be; everything pure.
But people are not made of brick,
and sometimes life can make you sick.

In youth you do not know it, it is something you must learn.
You see life is full of secrets, and this one you must earn.
You see children, life is sometimes only grey,
And in the end, we are all made of the same clay.

Grief is a monster, that lives under your bed.
And in quiet times, he creeps into your head.
Grief like a thief, comes to steal your mind.
And whatever he leaves for you, is very unkind.

A sorrow so deep, you feel you will drown.
And you cry and you cry, when no ones around.
Yet life goes on, and you go through the motions.
And you try your best, not to show your emotions.

Grief is always there, just under the surface.
He yanks at your heart, till you can't find a purpose.
But grief equals love, and love never dies.
So I'll find you some day, where the angels do fly.

Spring
Dew drops on the grass.
Mornings dampness soon to pass.
Sun breaks through the clouds.

Spring
River cold as ice.
Runs swiftly on its journey,
Down the mountain side.

Winter
Wind blows cold and hard.
Snow drifts high along a fence.
Trees are trimmed in white.

If I could just turn back time,
would loving you be such a crime.
Which one is it I would choose,
the man you were, or the man I loose.

For you were young once, full of hope.
That was before your heart, I broke.
We use to have such great expectations,
Before life showed us our limitations.

You were scared of what you lacked,
And with hurtful words, I shoved you back.
For fear of losing what we had,
We lost what could have been; so sad.

I made the you, you are today,
A man lost in my angry ways.
Where to turn and who to trust,
for all your dreams, I had crushed.

But it was me, that was so scared.
And my angry words; that wasn't fair.
I loved you once and then I changed you.
What a fool I was to blame you.

I have had technical difficulties, please stand by.
If I missed any ones comments, I could cry.
I love hearing each and every one of your thoughts,
But I had not checked my e-mail in weeks, there were lots.

After trying to read them all in one day.
My mind was a mess, it was severely frayed.
So again if I missed you I am terribly sorry,
But after seven hundred e-mails, my eyes were starry.

In this little room I write.
I write my thoughts so dear.
It is not for you I write.
I write mostly of my fears.

So in this little room I write,
a thousand thoughts and fears.
Out loud I can not say them,
for they would bring me tears.

It is at night I mostly write,
my mind won't let me rest.
So I put pen to paper,
and out my thoughts must crest.

I do not assume to know you,
or put you to the test.
For I am just a simple girl,
and my mind is quite a mess.

Oh no here comes another one.
A bleeding heart it's true.
A hippie from the sixties,
She'll talk till she turns blue.

Peace is her main subject.
Her hearts worn on her sleeve.
That crazy woman and her cats.
She wants me to believe.

Believe that there's another way
to keep this world from fighting.
Another way to save the earth,
A earth with less dividing.

We all call her crazy,
She wants so much for peace.
She talks about it night and day.
She even tells the geese.

Her clothes are old and tattered.
Her shoes are not unique,
She buys them at the Five and Dime.
A straw hat makes her look complete.

She grows a great big garden.
She works in it every day.
Then she keeps what she can eat,
And gives the rest of it away.

She does not have a lot of money,
Or drive a nice big car.
So when she's taking on the world, you see,
She doesn't get to far.

So watch out for her, her she comes,
She's out to change the world.
She'll have to do it one block at a time,
Oh wait, was that a cape unfurl?

(And so she flew around the world)

Late one night, I took a path
through woods I did not know.
A quicker way, it was I found
to get me to my home.

Dark that night, without a light,
the woods gave up strange sounds.
The shadows of the trees, they seemed
to move across the ground.

I walked a little faster.
My home I longed to see.
But then I heard an eerie howl,
and run I did indeed.

I bumped into some bushes,
I ran into the trees,
The only thought twas in my head
was pray my feet to flee.

My nerves they were a jumpin'
in trees I was a bumpin.
In my chest my heart was thumpin,
when I fell over somthin.

I lay there just a moment,
when two eyes did I see.
No faster man you'll ever be,
than I that night would be.

On my feet I quickly jumped.
My home I now could see.
Then I reached into my pocket
and I fumbled for the key.

Something from the woods I heard,
what horror can this be.
With key in door, I turn to see
my old dog run up to me.

Don't buy the promises.
Don't listen to the man.
We all hear the music,
but some are in the band.

Some of US say peace.
Some of US say war.
Two of US are rich,
the rest of US are poor.

Most of US are broke.
Most of US are mad.
Some of US are working,
the rest of US are bad.

Most of US can eat,
some of US do not.
We all know it's wrong,
or have we all forgot.

I'd love to solve the problem,
I'd love to help a bit.
Come on my fellow hippies.
Come on and take a sit.

Some listen to their own song.
Most listen to the band.
But we all hear the music.
What happen to this Land?

Peace out.

Youth runs hot, shinning souls consumed by desire.
On a search, they look for love to acquire.
But life walks by and shine does fade,
And all are in a masquerade.

It is as Heathcliff and his Kathy, they lost their love for pride.
If ether one had shown their face, would Kathy be his bride?
But life walks by and scars are made,
And all are in the masquerade.

Will you be as Ahab was, relentless for his whale.
If he had looked without his mask, would wind still hold his sails?
But life walks by and some do die,
And still goes on the masquerade.

Or will you be as the Phantom, searching for Christine.
But in the end it is Christine that finds true beauty hidden.
But life walks by and some scars fade.
And still some play the masquerade.

I beg you live your lives with passion, don't give yourself to fear.
For it is in  life's darkest hours that true beauty does appear.
To look beyond life's ugly scars, to see a heart in all it's pain...
And love despite.


Do search you for your strange duet, and be not afraid to lift his mask.
For therein is where true beauty lies... And life walks by.

She made you feel like never before,
yet the girl is only a festering soar.
You thought she was the best of the best,
but that was in the dark I guess.

In the daylight you can see her scars,
she's looking for someone to share her prison bars.
Now you feel the vile in your throat.
Maybe you shouldn't have sown those wild oats.

She's every bad decision you've ever made.
Now all of your dreams are fading away.
Don't you dare ask her for some pity.
She's just another soul in this dying city.

Last night seems only just a dream,
but reality hits and you want to scream.
This is not a life for the broken hearted.
This is YOUR life and it just started.

Music is like an ocean,
each ebb and tide a different emotion.
And down below, in the deep,
a little of my soul I reap.
A part if me I thought asleep,
is woken with each wave that peeks.
A song, a line, a memory in time.
I pull them in on my fishing line.
Some notes flow smoothly with the tide.
Some notes break hard, a real rough ride.
Some songs bring joy, some bring pain,
but I am hardly ever maimed.
And when my compass, I do question,
Music shows me which direction.
So when my Captain sets sail for home,
I hope I leave a pleasant tone.

I have a cat that loves me so,
why it is I do not know.

I am not famous, wealthy, or wise,
but I can see it in her eyes.
She shows her belly for me to pet,
I have never tired of it yet.

Her body's so warm and her fur is so soft,
without her love I would be so lost.
She stretches and yawns, then plunks at my book,
till I lay it down and give her a look.

She turns her back as if to say,
Why do that when we could play.
Sometimes when I feel so low,
here she comes to let me know.

That I am to her, and always will be,
the only person she loves to see.
I have a cat, I love her so,
Why it is, I think I know.

My dog is lying on the floor.
I watch TV a nightly chore.
Suddenly my nose does wrinkle,
What's that smell, my eyes they sprinkle.

I jump up and turn on the fan.
Oh no that smell I can not stand.
I hold my breath with all my might.
My dog takes refuge from my sight.

I pinch my nose with my left hand,
While spraying fragrance from a can.
I open windows, crack the door.
I do believe my nose is sore.

My stomach churns as I sit down,
My hand upon my faithful hound.

My friend Mike
He's such a clown,
He thinks things up,
Then writes them down.

My friend Mike
He's quick with wit,
Sad sonnets too,
A master of lit.

My friend Mike
His words fill the air.
Listen closely
For truth is there.

My friend Mike
He has a heart
Patched together,
A work of art.

My friend Mike
Its been my pleasure,
To read your poems,
You are a treasure.

My love, you have killed my heart.
But that my love,was just the start.
You went on to **** my soul,
and you were so very, very cold.

You, my love, lived in this house,
and only pretended to be my spouse.
A life ago you made me a promise,
But, you my love, were not honest.

Things can never be the same,
and I will give you back your name.
Just leave me with my broken heart,
And, I will find a place to start.

I, my love, will never be the same.
You have left me with the blame.
But, I will slowly pickup the pieces,
And day by day I will iron the creases.

I, my love, will live again,
A new life I shall begin.
And out of the ashes of our love.
I will become a snow white dove.

I rest my eyes in shades of green.
I plant my feet in the good earth,
and listen to the pace of the river.
I was only a moments breath,
yet it would last forever.

When I am gone with the dust
and the wind, we shall be
together again, this earth and I.
Can you show me a dream,
a dream better than mine.

There are some people on this planet, that came here years ago in a space ship. They are called Pickers and they came from the planet Bnegative, in the Talkalot star system. They had to flee their planet because they had amassed a great negative attitude, which caused the planet to be swallowed by a blackhole.
     You can usually avoid the Pickers if you see them in time.  Here are a few examples that will help you identify Pickers.  Pickers amass a great negative attitude that repels other people.  For instance, if a Picker comes into a crowded room, the crowd will bunch up together like a school of fish, hoping to avoid eye contact with the Picker.  Also, when Pickers find something wrong they will immediately  correct you, then go on to tell you why you are wrong, when you became wrong, and what went wrong.
     Pickers will pick, pick, pick, pick, pick at you until hell freezes over or the PickEs clothes catch on fire or dies.  In that case the Picker will immediately find another person to complain about the cold, heat, or smell, of last said person.
     There is no way to win an argument with a Picker, so it is best to nod your head in agreement until an escape route can be found.  As a last resort you can grab some poor soul  as they walk by and quickly introduce him to the Picker, then walk or run away, leaving the innocent bystander in your stead.
     Pickers believe that if someone is wrong and they do not immediately tell that person they are wrong, the earth will  then blow up.
     Now, occasionally one Picker will find another Picker and start Pickering the other Picker.  This usually ends in spontaneous combustion for both Pickers.
     But, recently, scientist have found a planet that is suitable for humans.  So pack your bags and grab your ticket to the planet Apossitive in the Farout Galaxy, where nothing is wrong and everyone is right.

These politicians are lying, and the children are dying, and mothers are crying, and why the **** are we fighting when we should be uniting and all of this writing don't do ****... Man I need a vacation from this sicking nation, with all it trivialization, I need some civilization, THIS ain't Any gods creation... Forget about nationality, I got to stop watchin reality or I'm gona become a fatality, where the HELL is morality, how bout some congeniality? Hey stop watchin television before you lose your own vision, you got get up and make a decision,we need a total world revision, and all this writing don't do ****...

In youth I looked into the sun,
I never saw the shadow.
The morning light broke on my face,
as I played in the meadow.
And life was mostly kind,
I never thought to look behind,
Never thinking of the time.
And, so it was I passed my days,
basking in the sunshine.
Then one day, I looked away,
and I saw the shadow.
I thought time, was just a line,
that never moved.....It had though.
As I stood in the shadow,
I became aware of time.
They say in the end,
it's only a wink of an eye.
So, I stand in the shadow
of my yesterdays,
clinging to my memories.
My life nearly done,
But I will not run.
For to have a shadow,
You must first, stand in the sun.

Beautiful eyes,
He had beautiful eyes....
That's what I remember,
His beautiful eyes.
They looked into me,
his beautiful eyes...
My soul I bared,to
those beautiful eyes.
I was left wide open,
No defenses...
He had such beautiful eyes.

I dream of days when warfare fades
and men put down their blades.
And the ghost of war that came before
lay silent in their graves.