Silent now the television
Silent now the telephone
Silently I sit here,
Silent and alone.

I’m not sure why the poems
Are much harder now to write
Not sure why the sleep
Comes harder every night
Not sure if all the trials in life
Are harder now to take
I’m not sure that when the morning comes
That I will even wake.

If I was asked to take a risk
Not sure that I would dare
I’m not sure if I was dying
Anyone would care
Not sure that Heaven waits for me
Behind the pure white Pearly Gate
If I asked for fifteen minutes more
Not sure the Reaper-man would wait.

I’m not sure if my mistakes in life
Outweigh any good
Not even sure that honestly
I’ve done the best I could
Not sure when folks remember me
If they will grimace, or they’ll grin
Not sure official scorekeepers
Would vote my life a win.

Not sure if I have lived before
Not sure if there’s a second chance
Not even sure with lessons
I could learn to dance this dance
The world makes me dizzy
The carousel spins too fast.
Not sure my horse could win the derby
The brass ring might have already passed.
But I'm not sure.

Silently I sit here.

PwL 6/16/15

Disgrace
About face
Try it all again.
Steinbeck really
Killed it when he
Wrote ‘Of Mice and Men.’
George protected Lenny when
He shot him in the head. Lenny
Tended to the rabbits; In the end
They all were dead. Did you read it,
Back in high school, when you were
The baseball star? Was your girlfriend
Still a ****** when she left the backseat
Of your car? Did you divorce before you
Married? Did the rabbit really die? Did your
Girlfriend raise the baby, listen to the baby cry?
Will you ever say “I’m sorry?” Will you cry when
She is gone? Or will you write a story ‘bout your life,
Called, “Hobo Carry On.”
Phil Lindsey  6/4/15

On the Lake’s North Shore
The leaves are quickly turning
Green and brown ignited. Brilliant, blazing, burning
Yellow, orange and fiery red,
An eagle soars high overhead,
Circling the steel blue sky,
While waxwings sing, and
Sea gulls cry, and
Loons laugh at yesterday’s mistakes, and
Whitecaps dance on the ancient lake.
The cliffs and rocks still pounding waves, and
Waterfalls spring from unseen caves.
Cloudy mornings, frosty, still,
The sunrise warms the early chill.
Squirrels hoard their winter store
An autumn day
On the Lake’s North Shore
Phil Lindsey- October 16, 2015

Part 4*
When we last left poor Agnes
In her attic all alone
She couldn’t find her way back down,
And she had no telephone.
No light switch and no stairway
She couldn’t find the hall
The elevator disappeared
(It had sunk into the floor)
And to make her situation worse,
She couldn’t find the door!

But Agnes McDuff was pretty tough;
She didn’t mess around
She thought of stuff that she could use
To help her get back down.

First she lit the candlesticks
So she would have some light -
For an attic with no window
Is black as darkest night.

With candlelight, she now could see;
She dumped the clothes from all the boxes,
Put the boxes on the table,
Next she stacked the wooden blocks.
She found some nails and a hammer
In her Grandma’s toolbox.
She nailed it all together
And on top she nailed the chairs
Now Agnes had a set of crazy, crooked
Homemade stairs!
Agnes went back to the toolbox,
She saw a saw was there,
She carried it very carefully
As she climbed the crazy stair.

Now you might have a feeling
Of what she was going to do
Yes, she climbed up to the ceiling, and
Used the saw to cut right through!

She climbed back down and looked around
Found the rubber bands and string
Added several woolen socks
And made a giant sling!

She rummaged through the dumped out clothes
Found a wedding dress and suit
And with the needle and the spool of thread
Made a great big parachute!

She hooked the parachute to the bicycle
(The one without a spoke)
And tied the back wheel to the tuba
And that was NOT a joke.

The tuba was quite heavy
So it kept the bike at rest
Once again climbed up the crazy stair
And performed the final test.

She nailed both ends of the slingshot
Around the opening she’d sawn
Hooked the sling around the bicycle
Moved the stair, and then got on.

Somehow the clock was working!
It was ringing Three, Two, One
And just as Agnes cut the tie she thought
Boy! This could be FUN!

The slingshot worked!*
Shot Agnes out, on the bike, way up into the sky,
And she looked around in wonder thought,
Boy!  I’ve never been this high!

She went up a mile or so
Before she dared look down
She saw the long suspension bridge
And the other parts of town.
She saw the entrance to the tunnel
(The rest was under ground)
She saw the roundhouse and the avenue
The park and then the lake
Finally, she saw her house
There was no mistake!

So she deployed the parachute
And gently she descended
And this is where the story
Of Agnes Attic should have ended.

She walked up to the doorway
Turned the handle, now you see?
The door was locked from the inside,
Agnes McDuff forgot the key!
PwL  May 4, 2015

Small town sounds
Unlocked doors
Not that many cars.
Main Street grocery store
Nickel candy bars.
Church Street,
“Sunday shoes”,
Parents stood outside and smoked,
Kids caught with cigarettes
Would have allowances revoked.
Corn Growers
Push mowers
Friday football games.
Everybody, Everywhere,
Knew everybody’s name.
Summer shouts
Paper routes
Cub Scouts once a week
Boys and girls in sixth grade
Dancing cheek to cheek.
No shirts
Blue jeans
Walking through the beans
Witches, ghosts and scary things
Every Halloween
Greased pigs
Little League
Swimming lessons in the lake
Talking back to teachers
Was a BIG mistake!
Teachers had hard paddles that
They were not afraid to use
Parents told them,
“Go ahead.”
And they did not refuse.
Bicycles everywhere
Pocket knives
Truth or Dare
Water balloons,
Kids Cartoons
Fishing in the creek
Not it
Gravel pit
Games of Hide and Seek
Bible School
Golden Rule
Jesus Loved Me This I Know
Several generations
Watching children grow.
Laying on a blanket
Watching shooting stars
Teachers went two towns away
When they went to bars.
Home grown tomatoes
Juicy burgers nice and thick
Eating home-made ice cream
Until all of us were sick.
Nine o’clock bedtimes
The nights were very still
I still hear the small town sounds
I guess I always will.
PwL 5/5/15

Poet:  Good Morning Darling!  Can you hear the birds?  The sun is creeping up, too beautiful for words!

Accountant:  It’s 54 degrees with a high of 72 predicted.  You won’t need a coat.

Poet: Ah, the warmth of afternoon sun, won’t our picnic today be fun?

Accountant:  We should leave by 10:30.  I have to get gas.  Have you packed our lunch?

Poet:  I have chicken salad for our lunch, potato chips to add some crunch, I baked the cookies that you liked last time, and bought a bottle of your favorite wine!

Accountant:  I set the GPS.  We should get there right at 11:15.  Do you have a blanket?

Poet:  Yes, a blanket to lay upon the ground, at the edge of the woods that we once found, while lost upon a country road, turned the fortune of our day around!

Accountant:  I charged my cell phone and the ball game starts at 1:20.   A win puts us in first place.  Are you sure we’ll have cell reception?

Poet: Ah, but I will read you poetry about the love I have for thee, leave the city’s crowds and noise behind, to all else but ourselves be blind.

Accountant:  Honey, why are you talking like that?

Poet:  I just joined Hello Poetry, now all the world’s a verse to me, to read and share with HP friends, ecstatic when a poem trends!

Accountant: Yeah, is that what you showed me the other day?  Looked to me like you guys all ‘like’ each other’s poems, and 95% of the people that read yours don’t even like them.

Poet: Really?  (holding back tears)

Accountant: That’s what I calculated.  How many of those cookies are you bringing anyway?

Poet:  I have a dozen, but I can bake more.

Accountant: Nah, 12 is plenty, and by the way, Baby, I just love your poetry, it’s filled with creativity, each word picked out is absolute, with premise that I can’t dispute, I guess one more thing I should say: I’d like it more if it would pay!
PwL May 3, 2015

Today’s leaders are busy
turning yesterday’s dreams
into tomorrow’s history.
Phil Lindsey 1/12/17

I heard a scream from the laundry room,
A shout, “Come QUICK! And bring the BROOM!”
Ran down the hall, and through the door,
“There it is!  THERE, on the floor!”
I looked down at the clay brown tile,
That’s when I saw the gecko smile.
He looked at me.  Looked in my eyes
As if to say, “Are you surprised?”
“It’s warm in here when the dryer runs
I’m just sleepin’ in the morning sun,
Wouldn’t hurt a fly (maybe that’s not true,)
But I promise, Sir, I won’t hurt you.”

Its skin was tan, like its tile bed,
“But, It’s so small,” I turned and said,
“I don’t care.  It’s in my HOUSE!
Remember when you trapped that mouse?
So here’s what I want you to do
Go buy a gecko trap or two,
And get that monster out of here,
I’m not coming back till the coast is clear.”
And she turned around and walked away
Guess I had my orders for the day.
There’s a gecko in the laundry room
And I’m standing there with a worthless broom.

The gecko stared, I stared right back,
I was making plans for a sneak attack
When all at once the gecko took a leap onto my shirt
“Sir, give up now, I beg of you, before one of us gets hurt.
Tell your wife I ran away; I think she’ll understand.
After all I’m just a gecko and you’re a big strong man.”
He jumped onto a dark green towel, then to my surprise,
He turned green and disappeared, before my very eyes!
That little guy was really quick,
And the camouflage thing was a **** good trick,
But I knew he wasn’t really gone,
I had a job to do, so the war was on.

I closed the door and chased that guy, for an hour, ‘round the room
I’d get close and swing at him with my gecko huntin’ broom
He’d stretch, and yawn, and leap away, turning colors all the while,
“Come on Sir, try harder,” he said with his ever-present smile.
I moved the washer and the dryer, the laundry basket, AND the clothes,
All the time he’s laughing, as my frustration grows.
“Excuse me, Sir, “ he said, I’m getting bored with ‘Hide and Seek’
There’s a window, over there, think I’ll just go and take a peek,
You turn around, and close your eyes and count from one to ten,
I’ll find another place to hide and we can start the game again.”
So I turned around began to count, “One, and two, and three,”
No tiny little gecko can make a fool of me.

I knew the window was cracked open, I would sweep him right outside
Then I wouldn’t care at all where the gecko chose to hide.
As I counted four, I turned around (I didn’t wait for ten)
I thought I’d get the drop on him, but I had to think again.
The gecko, on the outside, gave me a little wave
“I know what you were going to do – Sir, that wasn’t very brave.”
I saw at once what he had done,
Now there were THREE instead of one.
“Sir, I was getting tired, so I called a couple of my friends
I told them you were fun to play with, but I guess it all depends,
On whether you keep playing, or let us stay the night.
We promise when your wife comes back we’ll all stay out of sight.

I turned and wandered down the hall, and told my wife with pride,
“It’s finished, over, job well done, the gecko is outside!”
“Thank you dear,” she said and turned to Oprah on TV.
But wait, I thought, (though not out loud) till you find the other three.
Phil Lindsey 11/17/15

Mom, you know I need you
When things get out of hand,
And my day-to-day is stretching like
A frayed old rubber band, and
My patience wears and crumbles,
And I think I’m on the brink, and
It’s time for ‘Hokie Pokie’ on the
Roller skating rink;
Then you tell me,
“Put your whole self in, and
Shake it all about,” and
I can see you smiling, and I can
See you have no doubt that
Life will turn out, somehow, maybe
Not the way I planned, and that
There might just be a bit more stretch
In that frayed old rubber band, but
Even if it snaps, and life breaks loose, and
My skates end pointing toward the sky,
I know you’re there to help me up
And give it one more try.
Mom you know I need you….
Phil Lindsey, May 7, 2017

Is it true that opposites attract?
She liked fantasy, he liked fact,
She liked green beans, he liked peas,
She liked chicken, he liked cheese,
She liked champagne, he liked port,
She liked lazy, he liked sport.
She liked new cars, he liked wrecks,
She liked cuddling, he liked ***,
She liked cookies, he liked cake,
She liked real and he liked fake.
She liked daytime, he liked night,
She liked to make up, he liked to fight.
She liked sweaters, he liked coats,
She liked airplanes, he liked boats,
She liked poetry, he liked prose,
She liked tulips, but he gave her a rose.
She said, “Stay.”, and he said, “Go.”
He proposed and she said, “NO!"
He left with dignity still in tact -
So much for opposites attract!
Phil Lindsey 1/7/16

In 1492,
Columbus had a few
Things to do
Before he sailed the ocean blue.
He needed some green,
If you know what I mean,
So he went to see the King and Queen
Of Portugal, England, and France:
They laughed, shook their heads and said, “No chance.”
While his Homies back in Italy
Said, “Christabo, you gotta be kiddin’ me.
You want to do WHAT!? And you want US to pay?
We think you're a nut, now go on, go away."
But he didn’t give up and he didn’t complain,
He shook it off and took off for Spain
Where Ferdinand and Isabella,
Thinking him a righteous fella,
Told him they would float his boat,
If their country he’d promote,
Plant their flag on lands discovered, and
Bring them riches he uncovered, so
They all signed on the dotted line, and
Columbus said, “The pleasure’s mine!”
Then he smiled and bowed and said, “I’ll see’ya!”
And hopped aboard the Santa Maria.
See Christopher knew the Greek Geeks found,
That instead of flat, the earth was round,
So he thought he knew, or at least he guessed,
That it might be best
To get Far East by sailing west.
He pulled up anchor, set the sail
Told ninety men, success or fail,
West, they’d go, and west they went
Seventy days, provisions spent,
When land was spotted, dead ahead,
Columbus planted the flag and said,
“I claim this land for the King of Spain,
In doing so increase his reign,
And underneath this flag, unfurled,
Declare New Spain, a brand new world!”
What Columbus didn’t anticipate
He was 500 years or so too late,
For Eric the Red, and Leif, his son,
Long ago discovered Newfoundland.
Now when history tells North America’s story,
There’s room for both to share the glory.
But another fact, it’s become quite clear,
There were thousands of people already here,
See life in Asia wasn’t so great,
Some folks decided not to wait,
They just walked across the Bering Strait,
So Chris and Leif both got here late!
Phil Lindsey 1/27/17

I did not know that poetry has rules.
‘Tis not a craft for ordinary fools.
Those, that form and meter never master,
Are ever doomed; they are the poetasters.
As opera singers, out of tune, do make
Discerning listeners do a double-take,
And chefs, who sprinkle salt instead of sweet,
Serve meals that connoisseurs would never eat;
A writer with a wretched poet’s curse
Will never craft a great Heroic Verse.

So as I count my syllables and feet,
And wonder if my metaphors will meet,
I pray that hypermetrics are okay,
(For I have used a few of them today,)
I’ll leave the verdict, reader, up to you,
Affirm that to my mission, I’ve been true,
Or if the ending to my verse bathetic
Christen me a poet most pathetic.
Heroic Lines in Couplets, I intended;
Judge me, reader, now this verse has ended.

Phil Lindsey 12/24/15

On January 20th, according to police and CBSChicago website, a 40 year old Algonquin, Illinois woman shot her 50” Panasonic flat screen TV with a rifle while her 3 children watched.  She didn’t like what they were watching and she thought they watched too much TV in general.  Makes complete sense to me.  I mean if you just unplugged it those **** kids would probably just plug it in again.   Elvis also used to shoot TVs.  Allegedly the King would grab a handy pistol and shoot out the TV every time Robert Goulet was on.  He probably had to be a better shot than the lady from Algonquin.  I don’t think they had 50” flat screens back then.

Seems like the Boss couldn’t find anything worth watching on TV:

So I bought a .44 magnum, it was solid steel cast,
And in the blessed name of Elvis, well, I just let it blast,
'Til my TV lay in pieces there at my feet,
And they busted me for disturbing the almighty peace.
—Bruce Springsteen, "57 Channels (And Nothin' On)"

Who could forget Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr.’***** song about finding peace?

Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.

Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.

Come on, EVERYBODY knows John Denver’s real name!

So it wasn’t like the lady from Algonquin, Illinois was hearing voices or anything crazy like that.  These were real people telling her what had to be done.  I mean there was PRECEDENT set!

And I think that maybe the lady, though a bit extreme, and now answering to DCFS, is onto something.  Maybe TV is the source of all the world’s problems and unrest.  Maybe we should all exercise our God Given right to bear arms (hold off there big fella, that’s a whole nuther issue).  Maybe we should all just unplug the TVs for an hour or a day or a week or a month, and see what happens?!  World Peace?

Well I know that this is a poetry site, and except for some lyrics from a couple of old songs I haven’t written any poetry, so here goes:

Better OFF

Tonight I turned the TV off.
And it was better off.
And I was better off.

I called my daughter asked her how she was and we talked for an hour ‘bout stuff.
I told her I loved her and she said it back and the emotion was real enough.

And my son called from Texas, said his car needed a tire and he asked me what I thought he should do.
So I asked him if he had a usable spare, he said no, I said better buy two.

Then I made me a sandwich (the TV still off!) and I picked up a book and I READ!!
The plot started to thicken, my pulse started to quicken, but by then it was near time for bed.

So I didn’t watch ‘Wheel’ and I didn’t watch news and I didn’t watch Late Night at all.
I didn’t watch weather, though through the window, I could see the snow starting to fall.
I didn’t watch Stars Dance on anyone’s toes, didn’t watch ******* give some girl a rose.  
Didn’t watch re-runs of sit-coms I’ve seen, and I didn’t watch Judy the Judge being mean.

Tonight I turned the TV off.
And it was better off.
And I was better off.

Clouds obscure reality,
And fill the void with fluff,
But as we fall from Heaven’s grace
Will clouds be enough?
To soften our hard landing,
Slow our descent to Hell,
Or will they scatter in the sin blown wind,
And bid us, “Fare thee well?”
Phil Lindsey, June 1, 2015

It’s the top of the sixth, and
I don’t know the score;
If I am losing the game
I will have to score more.  If
I am winning that’s good,
But the game might be tied, and
If it ended right now,
Would you know that I tried?

How many innings
Do we get to play?
That’s a question that no one
Can answer today.
The game might go nine, or
It might end after seven. Do
I have enough runs to get me
Into Heaven?

How did I play?
Good field – no hit?
Playing hard till the last out was made -
Never quit?
Did I hit some home runs?
Was I good in the clutch?
Help my teammates score runs
With sacrifice bunts.

It’s the bottom of nine
Doctor said, “Game’s almost done.
You have just enough time
To score one more run.
Get your teammates together
You gave it your best,
You played as well as you could
Now it’s time for a rest.”

In the labyrinth inside my mind,
Sometimes my thoughts get lost.
I search down long dark tunnels
Where old memories are tossed
Like antiques in the attic, that
I can’t bear to throw away
Saved forever just in case
I need them again some day!

And as I age these memories
Show up at the strangest times
But there is no one there to talk to
So I turn them into rhymes
And hope some day that someone
Might discover them and see
That my poems are about my life
My poems are ‘bout me!

When age finally blocks the tunnel -
I no longer can break through
And I’m trapped inside with memories
And nothing left to do
But stare out through the window
Or at the closed front door,
Know I’m still inside the labyrinth
And I wish I’d written more!
Phil Lindsey 9/14/15

I was lost; My life a mess, and
I needed a correction,
Put ‘Heaven’ in my G.P.S.,
An inside voice gave me directions:

“Make a legal U-Turn right away
You’re on shaky ground
If you want to go to Heaven
You have to turn yourself around.

First take Forgiveness Freeway,
Then (and this part might be hard)
Read all the signs and billboards
On Bible Boulevard.

At the corner of Divine and Vine
There will be a round-about
Stop and yield the right of way
Learn what patience is about.

There will be hills and mountains
Compassion Pass should get you through
Then go a hundred thousand miles
On Thankful Avenue.

Turn right on Straight and Narrow Road
Ignore Temptation Trails
They only serve to keep you lost
And take the wind out of your sails.

Merge onto Heaven’s Highway
It’s a very scenic road
Slow down and take some pictures
For by now you’re growing old.

You’ll never know your ETA,
And you shouldn’t even care
Destination ‘Pearly Gates’ ahead -
God will tell you when you’re there.”
Phil Lindsey 5/29/15

Fly by night,
Or the seat of your pants
Hang on tight,
May I have the next dance?
Take a deep breath,
Or a load off your feet,
Hey pretty mama,
May I sit in this seat?

Snoopy and Sloopy and Sloop John B too
Don’t you know
I think I love you?
All night long,
Nothing else can compare
Mickey Mouse, Elvis, Frankie, Annette
Down on the corner, cool
Cigarette.

All grown up
With no where to go
I left it to ******
But he didn’t know
Wally and Eddie
Were out selling drugs
Popeye and Brutus
Were two vicious thugs.

In the Fifities and Sixties:
It was hard to keep up
“They” fed us the Kool Aid
We drank from the cup.
Kent State and Woodstock
And a man on the moon,
Kaleidoscope childhood,
Ended too soon.
Phil Lindsey 9/16/15

The foe now lying at your feet
Your goal in sight,
The taste is sweet,
You survived the ****** war
Bury your foe with one stroke more
He will not cry out in pain
He suffers blows, does not complain
But his revenge, his sword’s sharp cut
Goes to your heart – as you miss the putt.
pwl - 8/14/15

She smiled, looked up at him, and quickly kissed his cheek.
Then turned and walked away from the turmoil of the week,
Her crystal blue eyes moistened as she neared the airline gate,
And an inner pain engulfed her as she struggled with her fate.

He stood still, surprised, and wondered what she meant to say,
Her kiss was sweet but melted like the springtime snow in May.
Was it beginning? Was it ending? What future lies ahead?
He said 'Goodbye' and turned away.  Words better left unsaid.

Both home to their own islands, alone with thoughts and doubt.
Nobody they can talk to - No way to work it out.
What will she say? What will he think? My God, what have we done?
And maybe out of Darkness a single ray of sun.

Her resolve much stronger than his lust, her drive to do what's right,
Prevailed and gave her judgement (though she didn't sleep that night.)
And life goes on, and snowfalls come - Young children play on sleds,
And both can dream what might have been. Dreams better left unsaid.
PwL  2005

Poetry: A lot like wine.
Can’t drink too much,
Nor all the time,
Each wine unique -
A different taste
Sip.      It.      Slowly ……
Don’t drink in haste
Try one with a fruity flavor,  
Or maybe it’s a dry you savor,
Sample all the current trends,
Don’t be afraid to share with friends.
So all us wannabe sommeliers
Can compare it to the Bordelaise!
Don’t be content - Experiment.
Try something new!
Tasting should be fun to do!
And like the rarest of all wines
Good poetry endures through time.
Phil Lindsey  5/16/15

In the End, the Faithful were rewarded,
But there were just a few.
In the End, most screamed with terror,
As the guilty always do.
In the End, there was a final vote,
And we thought consensus ruled,
But in the End, the voting over,
We discovered we were fooled.

In the End, we ran for shelter,
There was none there to be found;
All the Faithful had secured it;
For they were Heaven-bound.
As the flames lept all around us,
We begged forgiveness from our Lord
In a Hell of our own makng,
With riches saved we can’t afford.

For the riches we were chasing,
Stole the goodness from our soul.
All the gold and all the silver
Melted into worthless coal,
And I stood and watched with sadness
Knowing I had had my chance
As the flames lept all around me,
Hell’s eternal damning dance.
PwL  3/19/16

I’m a hypocrite,
I’m full of
Wit?
I’m harmless
But I’m proud,
So I won’t sell my lemonade
To a whisky-drinking crowd.
For those who order
Sweet ice tea -
I say let them drink!
But New Yorkers drink Long Islands
And are more like me, I think.
I know I’m not an Atheist
But me and God don’t talk.
I think he built his watches
And then went for a walk. (4)
The armies go on fighting
Until the reaper wins
Or Armageddon’s curtain falls
Before Act III of the play begins.
The question asked by Hamlet
So many years ago
Today still asked by many,
Still the answer we can’t know:
“To be or not to be?” he asked.
To suffer or to die?  And
“Shuffle off this mortal coil”
Leave our loved ones here to cry.
There is beauty all around us
Inside us too, if we but look.
Though we might not like every cake
We can’t crucify the cook.
So eat when you are hungry
And drink when parched and dry.
Live life, for life’s worth living,
You’ll have eternity to die.
Phil Lindsey 6/2/15

In Deutschland as the tale is told,
A clockmaker was growing old
After making near a thousand clocks
He was tired of all the ticks and tocks
He was satisfied with what he’d done
But had no desire to teach his son.
His clocks were made with love and skill
But of cuckoo birds he’d had his fill
So stepping back was his decision
And his clocks were built with such precision
That he hoped they’d run all by themselves,
And, as he looked upon his empty shelves,
With sadness and with pride,
He noticed that his only son was standing by his side.

The son looked up and saw a tear,
As his father said, “I won’t interfere,
My clocks will run, or they will not
Ich bin nicht ein Wundergott
Und Ich hoffe sie verstehen
Meine Uhren müssen allein gehen.”
Phil Lindsey   May 7, 2015

Hear the cries of women. Hear the screams of men.
Listen. They will never scream and cry again.
Screaming, running, terrified, as Hell-fire fills the skies.
Ignited by the greed of Man. Fueled by hate and lies.
No where to run.  No where to go.  Running, screaming, lost.
Accumulating land and gold, no matter what the cost.
Ten thousand years and counting. The story oft the same.
Accumulating land and gold, sometimes in God’s own name.
Ten thousand years and counting. The weapons more mature.
But in the hands of jealous men, will never be the cure.
Jealous men seek riches from a world they must despise.
And now run screaming, terrified, as Hell-fire fills the skies.
Phil Lindsey 6/17/15

Stranger things have happened
Than what you’re about to hear
So I swear that this is all the truth
And it happened close by here
A young girl lost her way one night
She was working midnight shift
When a stranger saw her wandering
And he offered her a lift.
She was trusting and she climbed right in
To the black sedan he drove.
He asked where she was headed
She replied, “To Shelter Grove.”
The driver said, “I’ll take you there.
Just tell me where to go.”
She said, “Around the corner, there’s a hidden drive,
You’ll want to take it slow.
There’s a gate, but it will open, and
A clearing just ahead.
There’s a gravestone with your name on it.
I’m afraid, Sir, you are dead.”

The driver turned and stared at her
She stared back with evil grin
He was terrified but didn’t know
The danger he was in.
He reached out to grab her slender arm
But he closed his fist on air
Somehow she had vanished
She simply wasn’t there.
Now his heart was pounding loudly
He could hardly drive the car,
He used his phone to call his wife who said,
“We’re all wondering where you are!
You see your brother called an hour ago
Your father passed today
They said that he was sleeping when
The angels carried him away.
Your family signed the papers, and
He’s at the funeral home
I never heard of it before,
Some place called Shelter Grove.”

That night I had an awful dream
The wandering girl’s to blame,
She said, “I was sent to take your father,
But I mixed up the name.”  
Phil Lindsey  6/5/15

In a nation torn with racial strife
Where killing seems a way of life
Where rappers hold the people’s court
And looting is a favorite sport
Where drugs and thugs, both black and white,
Govern day and rule the night
When Superman is fast asleep
And shadows o’er the addicts creep
And rain don’t wash away the smell
From where it comes it’s hard to tell
Cuz truth ain’t always what it seems
When judges judge and lawyers scream
At least two sides in every fight
And everybody knows what’s right
Cuz the FacebookYouTube miracle
Sends evidence empirical
Across the globe at speeds of light
While the real truth stays out of sight
Hidden by gray overcoats
While politicians gather votes
And make the nation safe again
For women, children, mortal men.

But there are heroes on the street
Men and women you don’t meet
Unless of course you break the law
And you know that sticks in your craw
When a thousand thoughts are in your head
And you don’t see the light turn red
Or you’re headed to a meeting-late
And you’re only going eighty-eight
And the State Cop says “The Law is Clear”
“The limit’s sixty-five right here”
You grumble but you pay the fine
And wonder why he wastes his time
But the Cop has seen a different view
He knows what eighty-eight can do
The mangled steel and shattered glass
Maybe he just saved your ***.

In cities large and village small
Policemen answer every call
In every town and every city
Sometimes it ain’t very pretty
Protect and Serve when Hell breaks loose
Mere seconds, all they have to choose
What course of action they must take
And pray to God there’s no mistake
Cuz each Monday Morning Quarterback
Will pick a side and then attack
And argue based on “evidence”,
“What they would do”, and “common sense”
While sitting in an easy chair
So very thankful they weren’t there
And radicals from either side
Make threats and say the other lied
And which of us, if we weren’t there
Could ever judge a verdict fair?
Families grieve and loved ones cry
Both innocent and guilty die
Sometimes truth ain’t black or white
Only God knows wrong from right.
pwl 1/7/15

The Man in the Moon will be leavin’ soon
Officially, he retired.
But Polaris and some other stars
Are saying he got fired
The Man in the Moon would never leave
Of his own volition.
Management, cutting back on costs,
Is phasing out his position.

His quarterly reviews have not been going very well,
They say he isn’t any good with change.
When he gives his full attention, he seems to do ok,
But lately he’s been acting kind of strange,
His bosses claim he sleeps all day.
And on cloudy nights, he stays away,
(It’d be age discrimination if they said he’s getting old)
So they say that he won’t listen and won’t do as he is told.
They say because he has seniority,
That he resents authority,
Won’t show his new boss how the job is done,
And in their final summary, out of ten, they gave him three,
Said that he doesn’t hold a candle to the sun.

But those of us who know his work
Know he would never, ever shirk
Responsibility, or jobs that must be done -
At night when he works overtime,
Countless souls look up to him, but
At night they’ll never, ever, see the sun.

If The Man in the Moon is told to leave
Our lives will be amiss,
So I took a poet’s initiative
To make management a list:

Reasons Not to Fire the Man in the Moon
Who will watch young lovers kiss?
Who will push and pull the tides?
Who will occupy the space
Where The Man in the Moon resides?
Who will tell the farmer when it’s time to plant his field?
Who will lead the eclipse when the sun needs lunar shield?
Who will be the subject of songs and nursery rhymes?
Who will notify the werewolf when it’s his changin’ time?
Who will calm the sailors after stormy nights at sea?
Who will make a silhouette of an owl in the tree?
Who will light the children’s path each All Hallows’ Eve?
Who would raise vampires from their coffins
Were The Man in the Moon to leave?

I ask these questions with a plea
Knowing that, if it were up to me
And I had the power to blunt the cutter’s knife,
We’d leave the Earth and Heavens as they’ve been for all these years,
And The Man in the Moon would have his job for life.
PwL  5/24/15w

A poet, an artist, (with little restraint)
Penciled words on his canvas, saw no use for paint,
Crafted words into pictures; Visions out loud.
Of most of his work, was exceedingly proud.
Unfettered, unbounded, his huge canvas at wait
He brandished his pencil and began to create.
Desiring a masterpiece, appealing to all
Pride prompted his excess, preceded his fall
Trapped in a vortex, surrounded by words,
Shared them with others to see if they heard.

The public was skeptic, and reflected the same
His confidence shattered; His ability shamed
He had written with passion, as if possessed
But the silence of critics left him redressed.
“Who is it says everyone cannot be pleased?
Off with their heads!  Get them down on their knees!”
He drew a sharp sword, surrendered a laugh,
Sliced his canvas to shreds, cut his pencil in half.
“I’ve heard your silence, the first version *****”
Sharpened his pencil, wrote ‘Surrounded Redux. ’

PwL 4/20/15

I’m a shadow in the blackest night
You won’t see me walking by
A whisper where there is no light
Under dark and moonless sky.

A graveyard after midnight
An alley off a silent street
A universe devoid of light
Where truth and darkness meet.

Come with me, friend, and lover
Hear the blackness all around
Together we’ll discover
How to cry without a sound.

I will walk you through the dangers
And through years of deathless void
Let us kiss the necks of strangers
Thus more human life destroyed.
Phil Lindsey  8/9/15

In a rundown house,
On the edge of town
Where the grass is overgrown
The door’s unlocked and open,
The windows all are broke.
It’s been exactly twenty years
Since the chimney last saw smoke.

People pass by without seeing it.
Because it sits back off the road.
But when I pass by, I begin to cry.
It has a story seldom told.

Two nineteen year olds
Once planned their life
In that old abandon house.
She would bring a blanket.
He would bring the wine
They would dream about their future
Plan how they’d spend their time
Traveling to Places
Before they settled down
To raise their perfect family
In a house at the edge of town.

She would spread the blanket
He would build a fire
And long before the wine was gone
They would give in to desire
Passionate and furious
Holding on too tight
As if the dreams they shared
Were slipping
Off into the night.
As if the plans they made were
Smoke
From the fire in the room
Rising out the chimney
Into the afternoon,
Blown away by breezes,
Hidden by the clouds.
Invisible like secret fears
Never voiced aloud.

Spring turned into summer
Winter followed fall -
They began to meet less frequently
Then they didn’t meet at all.
The fire and the passion gone
The room now cold and bare,
The house at the edge of town
Unused,
But still standing there.

The memories of our teenage love
Were strong – We thought that we should meet
Once again in the vacant house set back from the street.
We set a date, but I was late
I almost didn’t go.
I sensed we were pretending;
Trying to return
Passion to a fireplace
Where the fire would not burn.

Eventually I pushed the door
And walked into the room
The fireplace had embers
As if it had burned awhile,
A bottle mostly empty
Had been thrown against the wall.
The blanket laid out smoothly,
But that was not quite all.
I saw my former lover
On the blanket dead and cold
With a note scrolled out in cursive
“I guess I should have known”
“You’re not here.  The fire’s gone. I have no need to live.
I hope that you’ll be happy -
When you finally come around
To the place we shared our love and dreams,
The house at the edge of town."

That’s the tragic story
And the reason for my tears;
The house on the edge of town
Still stands, even after all these years.
PwL  4/11/15

Dad looked up and stared at me; His blue eyes aging, but still clear.
“Reflection, Son. Reflection. It’s like I’m looking in a mirror.
When I look at you, I see myself, about twenty years ago.
I’m on the final laps of life, you have a few to go.
We don’t communicate so well; It’s hard to tell you how I feel,
But now I’m feeling pretty scared, and I sure hope that Heaven’s real.
I made a list of things I learned; I hope you understand,
If I had done a better job, I’d have been a better man.”

“Go 60, don’t go 80. You’ll still get there way too soon.
Turn the TV off at night, watch the clouds drift past the moon.
Tell your wife and kids you love them; Use every chance to hug them tight.
And listen to the crickets and the tree frogs sing at night.
Life is like a movie; There’s a large supporting cast,
Surround yourself with love and friendship, they’re the only things that last.
Don’t be too ******* others; And give yourself a break,
Maybe, Son, it’s not too late to learn from my mistakes.”

“The doctor thinks the cancer’s back, and there’s nothing he can do.
I guess I understand it, after what I put my body through.
Your Mother and I discussed the end – one of us would be the first.
I can’t bear to talk about it, but watching her die was the worst.
She was a special woman; Now she’s waiting up above.
At least I hope that she is waiting, I know I’ve been hard to love.
I’d much rather she was sitting here, my ashes blowing to the wind.
But if there’s a silver lining, it’s that I’ll be with her again.”

“You kids are what we’ve left this world. You are our legacy.
I hope you got the best of her, and not so much of me.
Look at me as if you see your own reflection in a mirror.
Heed the ever-present warning, ‘Things may be closer than they appear.’
I’m tired, and old. I’ve made mistakes, but I worked hard, and did my best.
When God gives me a final score, I hope the good outweighs the rest.
Reflection, Sons, and Daughter. Reflection is the key.
God give you strength and courage to change - based on what you see.”
PwL 5/18/16

Rumor is you break a mirror
Get seven years bad luck,
Well, I ain’t much on rumors,
It’s on the truth I’m stuck.

I looked into the mirror today
What I saw filled me with dread
Some old guy with his hair all gray
Looked like he should be dead.

Age spots covered up his face
There were wrinkles ‘round his eyes
I thought it was a **** disgrace
Or a Halloween disguise.

His cheeks were rough with three days growth
A spot of drool was on his chin
I was pretty shocked, I guess, but not too loath
To look again.

This time I looked inside of me
To the things the mirror won’t show.
To a mind still clear with memories
And a heart where love still grows.

My soul needs some forgivin’
Hell, I’ve lived o’er eighty years
Mistakes made just from livin’
Most washed clean with tears.

I’m thinking that my mirror lied
Maybe it’s already broke,
And the reflection of my outside
Is just a ghastly joke.

Because the inside me is still a boy
Having fun most every day
Living life that’s always filled with joy,
I’m gonna throw that mirror away.
PwL  5/18/15

Ahh, shady lady says she’s shy
And insecure
As it were,
I say sure,
Sure, she’s a bit demure,
But that’s only part
Of  her
Allure,
I too am shy and raconteur.
Ahh, I always worry
Cuz faces are blurry
I never remember the names;
I hide behind a graffiti covered wall
Standing tall
Feeling small
I guess I’m just part of the games
People play
All day, they
Deep freeze you,
Mess with you, then
Bless You when
You sneeze,
Ahh, get down on your knees
Please, and
Beg for mercy
Beg for pain,
Scarecrow needs a brain,
I’m begging cuz I got nothing to gain
Ahh, let me explain,
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose
Wouldn’t refuse,
A new pair of shoes
Mine are old,
Have a hole in the toe
The laces are broke
And tied in a knot,
What you got,
In your store,
You can give to the poor?
Or for a switch,
You can give to the rich,
Ahh, relax,
They pay the tax,
But, I ain’t no Robin Hood, or
William Tell, whose
Overture to the pits of Hell,
Didn’t sell,
Until he licensed it to the Lone Ranger,
Hi ** Silver, ask a stranger
If it takes a silver bullet,
To **** the wicked witch,
*****,
Lies underneath the house,
Curling toes and ruby slippers,
Dreaming of all the zippers
She unzipped, then walked away,
Ahh, it’s a brand new day.
So if the IRS calls
Tell ‘em I’m dead
Or went to bed
I’ll sleep it off till noon,
Now you got the name of this tune
I’m howlin’ at the moon!
I’m crazy as a loon,
See you soon.
See you soon,
See ya,
Soon,
I’m leavin’ in a hot air balloon,
Ahh, there’s no place like home.
Or Rome,
If you get the chance
To dance,
With the Pope,
Or if you want to see the lions
In the Coliseum,
You can see’em,
Having lunch,
Captain Crunch,
The Tin Man needs a heart,
Tear me up,
Tear me apart,
Ahh, you were all there,
You, and You, and You,
For certain,
You were all behind the curtain,
Ahh, MGM,
And the lion roars,
The End
Phil Lindsey 1/13/17

Mom was watching from the window as I
Left the safety of my house, and my yard and
Started walking to my friend’s house.  It was
Only two doors away, and she figured even a
Four year old could go that far without getting into
Trouble.  Trouble is, I had to sit down halfway there.  Maybe
To tie my shoe, maybe to pull on my boot, maybe
I was just tired.
Trouble is, Grampa Ulrich (Ninety years old, preacher, retired)
Chose just that instant to back his car out of his driveway.
But I was sitting in his driveway.  Mom watched.

I can’t imagine her horror as he backed his car over me.
Grampa Ulrich, feeling the proverbial “Bump in the Road” – pulled
Forward again.  My leg broke in two places.  Mom watched.
How tall is a four year old?  What separates his leg from his life?
Mom watched.  Who else was watching?
Mom died last year.  Who is watching me now?
Phil Lindsey  7/18/15

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether you are happy or you’re sad,
The whether man will always know
What kind of day you’ve had.

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether you are cold or you are hot,
I can always tell your temperature
Whether you like it or not.

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether it is night or day,
I’m always gonna love you whether
You choose to go or stay.

I’m the whether man, I love you;
Whether you are rich or you are poor,
Whether you are down and out,
Or good luck’s knockin’ at your door

I’m the whether man, I love you;
But whether I’m happy is up to you
Whether I’m happy depends on
Whether or not you say you love me too!
pwl  6/7/15

PATSY’S POEM.
(Composed while in Bloomington jail)

While sitting in this silent chamber,
And nothing else to do,
I thought I would compose a song
And write it, friends, for you.

I am not much of a poet,
Though I’ll do the best I can
To try to keep my courage up
And bear it like a man.

I was born in Cincinnati
And in Ohio State—
Little did I think, my friends
I would ever meet such a fate.

I was brought up by honest parents,
Who thought the world of me.
And this is the first time I’ve been
Deprived of liberty.

It was on the fourth of August, in 1879,
From house to house the news was spread
That Aaron Goodfellow had been shot,
And soon he would be dead.

Suspicion pointed toward me;
They rushed upon their prey,
And I was forced to prison
To await my trial day.

They took me to the station-house;
From there to the county jail,
Where iron bars surrounded me,
There my troubles to bewail.

I never did the cruel deed—
God knows I’m not to blame,
Although I have been convicted
And must suffer all the shame.

A word to my old mother,
And my sisters kind and true:
Remember I’m innocent
Though I must part from you.

Any you my kind relations,
I know you wish me well;
But my feelings at this moment
No human tongue can tell.

Before I close this rhyme
I’ll not forget to mention
My good jailer,
Mr. Franks.

And now, my kind friends,
‘Tis all that I can do
In sending this, my song,
To bid you all adieu.
Patsy Devine, in a Bloomington, Illinois jail, sometime between 1880 1882

Saw Robert Zimmerman again
After way too many years
Now I can’t stop my brain from singin’ .
I’ve always loved his poems -
The way he bends his words
Into pictures I can see out loud,
Illustrations of America, though blurred.

Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
If I used your real name
I’m not tryin’ to steal your songs from you
And I wouldn’t want your fame
I could never be your equal
Wouldn’t even want to try
Forgive me Mr. Dylan
Cross my heart and hope to die.

On the Day the Music died,
I had just about turned five,
Five more years slid past me
The Beatles sang on TV - live.  
Rock and Roll was pushing all the Folks
To center stage,
Viet Nam and Woodstock
Were currently the rage.

Somewhere we got sidetracked
The Disco Ball was turnin’
I put on a cowboy hat,
Johnny sang a song ‘bout burnin’.
I’ve been blowin’ in the wind
For over sixty years;
Now I’m tryin’ to write some poems, ‘bout my life,
And it appears,
That all my poems sound like songs
I’ve heard throughout the years.
---PwL  5/24/15

Saw Robert Zimmerman Again
After way too many years Now
Can’t stop my brain from singin’ But
It’s not what it appears See
I’ve always loved his poems And
The way he bends his words Into
Pictures I can see out loud, Illustrations
That I’ve heard.

Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
If I besmirch your name
I’m not tryin’ to steal your songs from you
And I wouldn’t want your fame
I could never be your equal
Wouldn’t even want to try
Forgive me Mr. Zimmerman
Cross my heart and hope to die.

On the Day the Music died, Guess
That I had just turned five, Then
Five more years slid past me When
The Beatles sang on TV - LIVE.  And
Rock and Roll was pushing all the Folks
To center stage, Seems
Viet Nam and Woodstock Were
Currently the rage.

Somewhere we got sidetracked While
The Disco Ball was turnin’  But
I put on a Cowboy Hat, Helped
Johnny sing ‘bout burnin’.  So I
Been blowin’ in the wind for Over
Sixty years; Now I’m Tryin’
To write some Poems, ‘Bout my Life and
It appears  That my poems Sound
Like all the songs I’ve heard throughout
The Years.

Come and Listen to a Story
‘Bout a guy named Phil
Tried to grab some Glory
But I guess he never will.
For as he fired up his pencil
Over hot and blazing coals
Granny loaded up her shotgun
Shot his poems full of holes.
Good shot, Granny.  Right in the heart.  Make it Bleed girl.
Y’all Come Back Now, Y’Hear?
PwL  5/5/15

“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

Spring came quickly and
Ended abruptly.
Summer came sweaty and hot.
Autumn winds blew the leaves from the trees and
By the time Winter came, we forgot.

Spring came quickly and ended abruptly.
But it will come again.
Birth and growth and hope and dreams
Learning to live in a freshly made joyous world with
Only the overstated problems of the youth, and
None of the fears of the aged.
Curiosity and wonder and eternal rebirth.

Summer came sweaty and hot.
Long hours of hard labor.
Work and growth and goals and dreams
Chasing elusive, sometimes irresponsible goals often
At the expense of happiness and contentment.
Adrenalin filled days and nights
Peaks and valleys and elastic resolve.

Autumn winds blew the leaves from the trees.
Exposing naked branches,
And squirrel’s nests abandoned by the owners who are
Preparing for the months ahead
Without understanding why.
Others, with lessor goals, content and
Ever resting.

By the time Winter came we forgot.
It arrives too soon.
Memories of growth and hope and regrets
Realizing the fears of the aged have arrived and
Will never leave.
Understanding that Seasons change and
In Winter, life on earth recedes.

Spring came quickly and ended abruptly.

A wordsmith from way far away
Convinced the crowd he had something to say;
“My current work does not show it,
But I would be a great poet
If my words would get out of my way.”

A Hundred years is nothing to an oak.
A Thousand to a mountain is a joke.
A Million to a solar system just exceeds its birth.
And we expect to make a difference in roughly eighty years on Earth?
PwL  5/5/15

In the blink of an eye of a hurricane,
In the nick of time after time,
In the heat of the night of the living dead,
It is I for whom the bells chime.

In the midnight hour of decision,
In the moonlit sky filled with stars,
I am cut with a scalpel’s precision,
My blood flows, but soon will be scars.

My only friends will betray me,
My own words have a venomous taste,
I can spit at those who would slay me,
For I’ve outrun all the demons I chased.

In the blink of an eye of a needle,
In the nick of time running out,
Perhaps one more time I can wheedle,
The voices within me to shout.
Phil Lindsey 1/8/17

Publish or perfect it; Wait?
Perfection: The enemy of great.
Phil Lindsey 6/17/15

There was a good golfer named Jim
Whose hearing and eyesight were dim
With the match on the line,
He started to whine -
Because he wanted putts given to him.

Waking skies
At Sunrise,
Ev'ry sunset too,
Seems to be
Bringing me
Memories of you.


Here and there,
Ev'rywhere,
Scenes that we once knew,
And they all
Just recall
Memories of you.


How I wish I could forget
Those happy yesteryears
That have left a rosary of tears.


Your face beams
In my dreams,
Spite of all I do!
Ev'rything
Seems to bring
Memories of you.


How I wish I could forget
Those happy yesteryears
That have left a rosary of tears.


Your face beams
In my dreams,
Spite of all I do!
Ev'rything
Seems to bring
Memories,
All those memories of you.

Andy Razaf, circa 1930

The trees are standing naked
In the cold and wind and rain
The leaves, now burnt and brown and crisp
Are on the ground again
The cold rain drowns the fallen leaves
A soggy carpet stays
And darkness fills the afternoon,
Of the shortened autumn days.

The geese are almost all gone south
The rivers start to freeze
The first few winter snowflakes
Are blown by biting breeze
Frost carpets frozen morning grass
Piers from the lakes removed
Children walk to school in
Coats and scarves -  all “Mom approved.”

The witches and the pumpkins
Left from Halloween
And the turkeys from Thanksgiving
Morph into Manger scenes
Stores advertise the Holidays
Special sales for One and All
As just before the winter comes
The Other Face of Fall.
Phil Lindsey 11/9/15

Death dressed up for dancing
In a tan sport coat and tie,
Not invited to the wedding, but
It was someone’s time to die.

The bride and groom were beautiful
As brides and grooms would be,
Few knew that she was pregnant,
In several months there would be three.

The best man was a long-time friend
Of both the bride and groom
He was drinking fueled by jealousy
Because their wedding sealed his doom.

Bride’s Mom and Dad, long since divorced,
Said, “Hello”, but didn’t smile.
They both cried as their ‘little girl’
Walked slowly down the aisle.

Groom’s parents laughed and danced and drank,
But both hid things inside
His Dad was filled with cancer, and
His Mom despised the bride.

Grandpa sat in his chair alone,
Except for the oxygen tank
The young pretty much ignored him,
So he just sat and drank.

Bride’s brother disappeared a lot
He insisted he was fine,
Then he snuck off alone again
To do another line.

The wedding party partied hard,
Paid the band for one more set,
All filled with alcohol and lust
How much drunker could they get?

Death walked unseen among the crowd.
He had yet to pick his date,
Lay his hand upon a shoulder
And seal the doomed one’s fate.
Phil Lindsey 3/27/17

Thank You, Lord for family,
Friends and neighbors near and far.
Please bless them, Lord, and keep them safe,
No matter where they are.

Thank You, Lord, for every day
That we can breathe, and smile.
Help us to live each moment;
To make each hour and day worthwhile.

Help us maintain our modesty
Should we be wont to boast.
Help us share the gift of laughter,
With those who need it most.

Give us knowledge, strength and courage
To choose the right from wrong.
And help us use our voices
To sing Your praises loud and long.

Last, bless our tiny neighborhood,
And help us understand,
That we, are all Your children,
Held in Your protective hands.
Amen
Phil Lindsey 12/25/2015