If I could but see
Through the eyes of a lover,
Cause the world is sickening,
Thoughts cloud my mind.
She sits there smilin'
Cause I love her

Cause some how It's fine.
In her eyes, not mine,
The problems in the world, and after.

While I sit confused,
She sits amused
And near to laughter,
But holds, to plainly say,
"Is it sadness you're after?"

It strikes me silent,
Though the thoughts do not relent-
Until my last breath/regret.
And it's finally clear-
                                     It didn't matter.

Another day has gone.
Churned into dust,
Living out life
Like the milling of hours.

Slow, monotonous work
Of wasting potential
Desperately clinging to our lazy comforts,
Like lice to a hair disturbed.

Once we were challenged
To make something for ourselves-
To make something of ourselves.
The new-age view
Makes being you
Look just like
          Being everyone else.

If it's raining for you
it's raining all the time for you
It's a storm and you're alone.

If it's summer for you
It's too hot
and the mugginess makes your sweat useless

If it's too much for you
you're knees are buckling
and you're climbing
the steepest hill is your route
It's gonna get better.

If the rain's gone
your shirt been dried by the sun
your friends are outdoors
and it's time to make fun

If it's late spring for you,
you're comfortable,
a moist air keeps you the same

If you've just let down your burden
You've no lead in your shoes
and the road is a gentle downward *****
It's gonna get worse.

And the wind did shake the dust
In preparation for the rain
To wash away the dirt.
No one asked any questions,
And no one stared at the Earth-
As everything they stood on
Throughout their entire lives
Was blown away.
  By the wind.
        The Wind. of Change.

“Joy”
Happiness.
Oh how many greater words I could use:
What eloquence,
What marvels,
What intricacies,
Oh what most unpatterned qualities!
Such confusion in the matter that it may be called:
                    Life.
Yet it is not life,
Though no one living does dream of life without it,
For there is always only one of two ways it appears:
Through the scars,
                     The kisses,
                            The waiting,
                                         and laughter…
There is only the happy presence
Or the sorrowful lack of
                 Love.

The ******* which bore the oyster
The meats, the cheese, the cider
It always seemed to annoy her
Deep within her mind's dark cloister
The cost of one was the cost of all
A pity to pick and choose
An oyster with no *******
(nor meat nor cheese nor cider)
And lights'd be on for rent.
Or meat and cheese and cider
(No oyster shucked over a golden cent)
And not just lights, but groceries too.