he stares down the empty bottle
    graceful brown glass shattering his pride
swarthy foam defying his ambition
    a reluctant sigh escapes
as he comes to the slow realization
    in a moment of despair
he cannot write a poem
    about an empty root beer bottle

please kind sirs
    i assure you i meant no harm
-can't you see the poor girl is telling the truth-
revered jury i apologise
    i didn't realise my sin was so great
-really, gentlemen, it's a first offense-
i take all the blame
    i was where i should not have been
-a girl's got to make a living-
weaving my webs of destruction
    i accept the punishment
-please, have mercy-
execute me if you must
    but wouldn't it be easier
-hear her plea-
to simply be rid of me
    show me the door i'll gladly leave
-i beseech you on her behalf-
please, miss muffet
    was quite mistaken
-hear, hear, the witness is tainted-
an attempt at friendship
    has thrown me on the mercy of the court
-save the poor spider-

It's a good life she's got going--
there's her dude and her dress
matching shoes and a patined purse
and nothing to worry about

the stereo never stops rocking
she never tires of what it plays
the clothes in her closet are innumerable
the styles guaranteed never to change

her shirts are never wrinkled
her eyes never shine with tears
her hair in perfect plastered permanence
her expression is always the same

a timeless smile reveals perfect teeth
a sparkle carefully painted in each eye
and it is always this way
and she swears it'll never change

life happens and she strives with the flow
eternally up-to-date the miss of all
she's the perfect dream within reality:
she's the cut-out paper doll

True it is a lonely road
my feet dance upon
But tell me how can I be alone
when there's Someone to lean on?
Someone waiting, watching me,
guiding me every toward the goal -
tis He who keeps me company,
the Savior of my soul.

I tred a path too few have trod
I walk a narrow way, most favor the broad
What I do brings no fortune or fame
sometimes it brings a smile, oft only shame
Occasionally a friend will walk along with me
but rarely enough do they see what I see
So on this long road, I oft feel alone
I stop and think, and then I groan
for I tred a path too few have trod
I walk a narrow way, most favor the broad.

Me, myself, and I are having a
    party today
You weren't invited, but couldn't
    have come anyway
There'll be ice cream and cake
we labored all night it to make
We'll have a housefull
that won't break a single rule
But it'll be lonely for us three:
Myself, I and me.

looking out my bedroom window
i see a stretch of endless black
called a street in normal life
this simplistic title fails for me
because it is a metaphor
carelessly constructed
of half-breathed truths
that echo something larger
i am the car that goes 55
through this lazy neighborhood
seeing what is on the side
but never quite deciding to slow
not that i could stop anyway
that is okay i gladly fly away
because even though i dread
the fact that i will never see
this beautiful street again
i journey to a destination
fairer than the one that is here
wave to me as i go by
weep for the neglect of youth
but never persuade me for a moment
that there is anything worth
stopping for except the end