Who would have thought
two years made a difference?
Two years is not that long
in the grand scheme of things.
Two years ago, I didn't know
so much that I do today.
Two years ago, I wouldn't have
made some of the choices I did.
Two years ago, I could smile,
a genuine smile, with real emotion.

If I could go back to two years ago,
I would change what I did,
Warn myself that not everyone is good.
I used to believe that everyone was good
even if they were only good in some tiny way.
I know better now some people will never care
how much pain they cause.
Two years ago, I wish I'd known.

In the real world
     I am merely a passerby.
Finding no home to call my own.

I walk the dusty ***** streets
                  So lost and all alone.
Why then should it be this way?
Is this the modern way of life?
   Am I to always suffer loneliness
        A life beset by doubt.

An Oklahoma politician
wants to outlaw hoodies
in the hood

It's true, it must be
I read it in Fox News  :)

I'd sooner be in Missouri or Cleveland
or New York City where you don't have to
wear a hoody or raise your hands to get shot


There are other things more pressing
than hoodies in the hood
that don't need ironing

like hoods in suits
and the elephant in the room
that needs shooting.

There walks no Daphnis with his mournful song
Blinded by the vengeful nymph, whose love was unrequited
He does not wander in the hills above this place
Playing his pipe and singing of his sadness
Aphrodite can punish him no more
For he is gone to the quiet land of shadows
Taken by Hermes, herald and messenger
Of the mightiest of gods, to cross the river Styx
His soul guided by his father’s loving hand,
to Hades and the final still of time and season.

In the quartz sculpted gorge, beneath the waterfall
Naiads lithe and languorous once bathed
Alabaster skinned, in the crystal brook
Auburn ringlet tresses were shaken free
When they stepped among the mossy rocks and ferns
Their peachy cheeks flushed vital rose
Their strawberry ******* raised and glistening
Their teasing laughter that once echoed in these dales
Through verdant pastures and the bluebelled wood
Is heard no more, for they have passed into memory.

It is silent now, the Jackals are not howling
The threat of Wolves and Lions gone
This pastoral world of goatherds pining
Is but a world of dust and dreams.