I want to sing love songs to you
And recite poetry all I can
But I must not and I won’t
Because you are a Republican.
I want to sit at the shore;
Watch the gulls and pelicans
But that isn’t going to happen
Because you are a Republican.

We could go out to a bar
And sing old favorite songs.
We could sing and dance
Our friends could sing along.
But that won’t happen for us
Because hope for it all I can
The bottom line to all of this
Is you are still a Republican.

If they took a twisted family tree
And put it into a cheaply built can
Then added some bile and lies
You’d have canned Republican.
You could open it and pour it
Away from good, decent Americans
Because we’ve had it hard enough.
We don’t need more Republicans.

There’s a brand of human mutant
Arises when times are better than
The starvation and degradation
When the nation went Republican.
These mutants make war with poor
And unemployed and dependent man;
Blame everyone else but themselves
Mutants mentioned here are Republicans.

I want to sing love songs
And recite poetry all I can
But I must not and I won’t
Because you are a Republican.
I want to sit at the shore;
Watch the gulls and pelicans
But that isn’t going to happen
Because you are a Republican.

Memory flashed like strobe
lights and illuminated paths of
tangled legs; only the moon
watched us weave intricate
patterns of impassioned sighs
and scattered black lace.

Shadows settle with the
musing silence of the
immediate past: two bodies
in love with childhood naivety,
the dash of what could be.
What could be?

Predawn whispers shatter
the fragile ivory walls of
my chest, unveiling a chasm
that is yearning to feel again.

When they buried me in the dark, I was frightened.
I didn’t like the taste of earth.
And I was so thirsty.
Some people are no good with plants,
Even the hardiest shrubs
Wither and wilt in their careless hands.
You aren’t one of them.
When no-one else could see,
You took such good care of me.
Water, warmth and love.
These are my needs, but I had no voice
With which to ask; without you
I would have remained inert
A lost life, in the dirt.
See now, how I blossom?
Just a shoot, but I will astound them all
With my beauty, in time.
Thank you for caring for me,
Thank you for helping me to grow.

poetry is my remedy for apathy
strange how simple words can
cut away through my indifference

the act of creation in the written word
helps me connect to something greater than myself,
so slowly but surely my numbness subsides

poetry leads me into mystery,
where beauty can be found in
simplicity of a single moment

my mundane life flowers into
a spiritual experience,
when I flow into love and service

there is either apathy or poetry
in changing a poopy diaper,
pausing before saying a hurtful word,
and letting go the need to be right.

my life moves and quakes into new being,
and all because i let words flow in me and through me.
i am a living book bursting at the seams,
waiting to be poured out and shared.

spoken and written words break me out of isolation,
and sets me free.

two simple words cut through my apathy,
"thank you."