You'll find that it’s much easier
To get along with those, you do not know
Do your best to keep your distance
Never grow with those too close

Do what I do and stay aloof
Never fully lay open your heart
And never let on by letting them know
Who you really are behind the scars

And you’ll also find for them likewise
If in turn, you never learn
Anything about their life
Neither of you will ever get hurt

Like I said before it’s much easier
If on this point you carefully listen
Don't get too close with those you know
Just remember to keep your distance
and never ever get too serious

I wish that I had known
Or at least been told
That the memories I thought to keep
Were given out to me in loan

And that without a say
This, my Memory bank
Could over time repossess
What little bit of it I saved

The price they make you pay
When you find in time you bank on age
Can suddenly lose interest
Or at least make your payment late

The means to an end depends on how long
And who is holding the note
To when the bank in question
Goes into foreclose

At this late stage I wish I'd known
Or at least been told
That the memories I deposited over the years
Were only given out in loan

He's the daily strength I call on
The one who gives me breath
For whom I long, my morning song
Who never once let's go my hand    

From everlasting to everlasting
All this soul could ever need
From the direction I was heading
He came to set me free

My go to when things go wrong
There is not a one more loving
My daily pray, in God alone
Without Him I'd be nothing

The one who holds it all together
In the palm of his hand
And yet to him I still matter
Including me in his daily plans

He keeps his loving eye on me
Never once am I alone
Sheltered underneath his wings
Is where this child always belongs

My go to when things go wrong
There is not a one more loving
My daily pray, in God alone
Without Him I'd be nothing

what you now hold
is a simple poem
that simply states
it's done nothing wrong

doesn't cause any waves
in what it has to say
has no point of view
on truth, love, or hate

does not try and hide
behind cleaver rhymes
though it might take up
some of your precious time

simply stating the facts
on what it has or lacks
if you can relate
this poem is okay with that

takes time to exercise
it's poetic rights
then when it comes undone
it takes to high flight

where it seeks out a hand
in which to land
this simple poem
that holds no demands

Lights up a smoke
Takes in a draw
Laughs with a rasp
Chokes with a cough

Lives for the sensation
Of smoke in her lungs
On the ladder of life
She skips a few rungs

Prefers the menthol
Says it freshens her breath
With little regard
The rest smells like death

Side of the pack reads
They bring on disease
Smiles at that fact
Behind yellow teeth

The very same ones
She's lying through
When she says she can quit
Any time she wants to

Fires another one up
Takes in a deep drag
With what little lung
She seems to have left

Laughs with a rasp
Chokes with a cough
Never once wonders
At the sense of it all

Rumors swirl round in small talk town
You won't believe what they have to say
On the corner of 5th and Gossip
They're cranking the mill, most every day

They have no need T.V.
When entertainment comes from the mouth
You might not believe all that you see
But when it is heard, there's never a doubt

This town you are in from beginning to end
There's not a one not loose in tongue
Where the daily wags have a gift for gab
Whether their standing still or on the run

As a fact of the matter, they tend to gather
In the smallest of gossip groups
When they start to chatter the latest in Blabber
It's also known as the fine art of Schmooze

Things never settle down in small talk town
Having no boundaries to their city limits
Not much they won't say on any given day
As long as they themselves aren't included in it

Aren't we all but broken souls
Just packaged differently
From tall to small, partial to whole
All with the same deep hidden needs

The desire to be accepted
For whom we really are
In a world where most are rejected
If you don't come with a Hollywood Walk of fame star

The thing is about postage
We're all pretty much priced the same
Open the package and you'll notice
There's more to life than our stickers and tape

Though some get beat up in the mailing
Traveling from Post to Post
Life is not always smooth sailing
In the way some folk, choose to go

Because after all we're all broken souls
Just packaged differently
Beat up and torn in a world that's gone wrong
We all still have the same deep hidden needs