Sitting here
with beer in hand
drinking
awaiting better days
but the better days are so few
and the dull nights grow longer
so I crack another open
and discard the last
empty as me
to the corner
not sure how many this has been now
not sure. . .
days. . bottles. . . whatever
drowning aching thoughts
consuming
waiting
for something
maybe for the phone to ring
or a visit from the ones
who have forgotten you
but the women you want
come too late
the ones you dont
come to frequent
neither really care much
they will outlive you anyway
most likely
most do
drinking
away the money
you would otherwise spend
on unaffordable things
that you dont really need
as you cast another
to the pile
bottles upon bottles
in bins
and bags
clattering on a cluttered table
along with crumpled retrospection
hell. . . .
at least there is a bright side
Michigan does have a 10 cent bottle deposit
in which you can take them back
to buy more beer

I saw her in church the other day
She was sitting in the back row
Don’t give her a hard time about that
At least she knows which place to go

They were starting to pray
But she only held one hand up
She crossed her fingers behind her back
And only drank half the cup

She’s halfway there
She only prays with one hand
She doesn’t know what to believe
Her heart treats it like a man
She’s only halfway there
Give her time
It’s a long way to the holy land

Too many nights of sorrow
Too many days of pain
She prayed once before
But her life still seems the same
It still seems the same

When everyone stood to go
I tried to catch her eye
But she needs something else
Not someone who might make her cry

She’s halfway there
She only prays with one hand
She doesn’t know what to believe
Her heart treats it like a man
She’s only halfway there
Give her some time
It’s a long way to the holy land

Each poem tells a story
Containing truthful experiences
Gathered over various stages of life

Happy poems, sad poems, odd poems
Reflecting the personality of a poet
Exposing flighty thoughts
Caught and trapped in lines

Poetry means diversity
There can't be wrong nor right
And ain't that the magnificence

WHAT A POEM SHOULD BE

A
        Poem
               Should
Be
             Devoid
                  Of sentiments
            Should be
                   Dark as the Night
Or
                Clear as the day,
          *A
      Poem
            Should speak
Attention
And
        Not seek attention
             Should be
           Bright as the culminating cloud
Or
           Dark as the emanating nights
A
        Poem should not seek, but speak
Should be
              Free as the Moon moves the earth
       A
           Poem should
Be
         Free, but not stale
     Should be
            True, but not forced
A Poem
       Should not seek,
          But speak
Should
Be
    Vast as Rainfall
And yet
       Calm as Dew falls
A
                      Poem
Could be
        Violent,
But mean no harm,
Could be hateful,
          But mean no hate
    A
          poem
Should
      Be bright as SUNSHINE,
Should be
           Vast as Rainfall,
      Yet
         Calm as Dew falls
A Poem
     Should not seek attention
But
     Speak attention!!

Should be
        Vast as
               Rainfall

                     *Should
                          Be
    Vast
       As
            Rainfalls