What tragedy rings loud enough to silence all the land?
What misfortune melds a Nation as no politician can?
Misfortune? Ah, too lame described.  Misfortune is spilled salt.
A tragedy then so defined, must be a villain’s fault.
A villain with intent to harm, to seek revenge, destroy;
Taking credit for the chaos, some morbid short-lived joy
For there will be retribution, if not on Earth then in the End
When a Power greater than ourself will mightily descend
And with a sword of righteousness, cut out the villain’s tongue,
Match the silence of the villain to our Nation's own.

For each assassination, does not a man destroy
But adds glory to the legend, for all history to enjoy.
Lincoln, King and Kennedy all giv’n eternal voice
Julias Caesar, Jesus Christ just cause for our rejoice!
Pearl Harbor, Boston Bombing,, and vicious Nine-One-One
Left silent Nation galvanized when the heartless acts were done.
Silent? For an instant.  But an instant and no more.
And a Nation then united, rise as one with mighty roar!
Transcending gender, race and creed in a common song
The villain will surrender, to our victorious throng!

What apocalypse rings loud enough to silence all the World?
What vengeful God draws mighty sword, his banner thus unfurled
For all to see and fear and weep, beg forgiveness much too late
As we answer for the cruelty, the torment, and the hate.
Will He cut our tongues? thus end the need for power and control?
And by muting interference, a single voice extol?
And with that voice of silence, bring the World to our knees,
To praise the World together, and pray for World peace.
Phil Lindsey, Easter Sunday, April 5, 2015

“The times they are a-changing”
Guess I’m growin’ older fast
Had a **** good time one summer,
But summers never last.

“Ah, but I was so much older then”
Rip van Winkle shared his drink with me
Woke up; thought we were younger
But the village disagreed.

“Like a rolling stone”
I never stayed on the top of any hill
Got no regrets to mention
But I prob’ly sometime will.

“Blowin’ in the wind”
Seeds from a weeping willow tree
Never knowin’ where they might end up
But it’s the same **** thing with me.

“All I really want to do”
Before I end up in the dirt
Is beg everyone’s forgiveness
But there’s too many I hurt.

“A hard rain’s a-gonna fall”
For now it’s beatin’ on my head
Soon it’ll pound down on my grave
But by that time I’ll be dead.

“Long and wasted years”
Came along and passed me by
Yeah I kinda miss the summer
But I ain’t had time to cry.

“I wear dark glasses to cover my eyes”
Can’t believe the things I’ve seen
Still, I’d pretend that I was younger
But Dylan’s on AARP magazine.
PwL 3/31/15

Dad made a kite
Out of paper and wood
And a white, ripped up sheet for a tail.
We all watched with wonder when without any wind
He could make his kite rise up and sail!
The trick, he would tell us
Is to run just a bit, then let the string play out just so.
There is wind up above us that you cannot see
It will make the kite rise up and go.

Up went his kite
High up over the trees
And soon it was up with clouds.
It dipped, skipped and twirled as he tightened his rein
“It’s DANCING!” we shouted out loud!
The kite, he would tell us
Responds to your touch, don’t hold it too loose or too tight.
Be forgiving, yet firm, let it fly by itself
And most times it will turn out all right.

Dad gave the kite
To the youngest child there,
And the rest of us waited our turn.
The kite soared, then collapsed; our confidence too
Dad taught; we attempted to learn.
Life, he would tell us
Is like flying a kite, you hold on but you cannot control.
Don’t let a failure or lack of success
Stop you from reaching your goal.

Be like the kite
Reach as high as you can
Set your goals high, and dance with the clouds!
Respect and remember the wind you can’t see.
It’s your Faith that will make others proud.
Faith, he would tell us
Is the courage to fly, and belief in a Presence unseen.
But most of all Faith is the strength to go on
When your kite gets stuck high in a tree.
PwL 3/30/15

Don't approach a dog unknown to you
Holding out your hand, making eye contact
You may frighten him
Let him come to you

Don't write a poem uninspired
It won't work out
In good time
Let it come to you

Don't go out there seeking love
Like a child with a butterfly net
Live your life
Let it come to you

“I’m all in,” the gambler grinned, and
Pushed his chips toward the center of the table.
“Been playin’ hard, finally pulled the card,
You can call if you are able.
It’s all or nothing, - final ***.
Call me.  Show me what you got.

C’mon Man, you hesitatin’ ?
Take your time, I’ll sit here waitin’.


C’mon MAN, you think I’m BLUFFIN’?
Think I’m sittin’ here with NOTHIN’?


C’MON MAN!  Let’s GET THIS DONE!
DON’T ACT LIKE YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE
WITH MORE THAN POKER ON THE LINE
FOLD or CALL ME, EITHER’s FINE!

But don’t just sit and stare at me,
And make your judgement silently
I need to win.  I want it all,
For God’s sake, Man, please fold or call


The silent Man called.  

“Son,
Life’s a gamble and she’s dealt us all some bitter hands.
So when you been ‘round long as me
You begin to understand
Don’t matter if you win this time
Eventually you’ll lose
The stakes keep getting bigger, and
Some day you’ll have to choose
Between losin’ everything you got
And keepin’ something dear
And another thing I’ll wager, Son, that you don’t want to hear
Is while the *** keeps getting bigger, the odds get longer too
Sometime soon old lady luck will turn her back on you.”

The Silent Man laid his cards on the table.

“Each day’s a brand new poker hand
Some you win, and some you bluff,
Now you show me what YOU have,
We’ll see if it’s enough.”

PwL, March 29, 2016