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Happy Birthday Heather
I will not state your age
If people want to know it
They can go visit your page

You run a band of poets
A band of Lunatics at heart
But, you saw something in us
And you saw it from the start

We all write different styles
Some are funny, some morose
Some of us have stories
And sometimes, we get gross

But, Heather, you're our leader
And on behalf of all us vandals
Don't put the fire brigade to work
....so don't light your ****** candles!!!

Happy Birthday Hev! Best wishes
We share more than just a last name in my book.

All the love

Roger and Megan Turner
Birthday poem for a friend
I remember when you tucked me in
and would kiss me on the head
you'd leave the bedroom door just so
the hallway light just touched my bed

The monsters would all stay away
While the light was on you said
They were stuck behind the closet door
And if they touched the light...they're dead

Now, the years have passed us by
And our roles are re-arranged
Now, I do the tucking in
But, the story hasn't changed

I tuck you in, and kiss your head
And then you go to sleep
The monsters all are hidden
In the closet....so so deep

There's times you may remember me
But, many times...there's not
Your eyes will barely flicker
You can barely hold a thought

The monsters are inside you
From the closet, they have come
You may not know just who I am
But, you'll always be my Mum

Now, it's time to get tucked in
And for me to kiss you on the head
I'm gonna pull the door just so
The light....protects your bed.
there are people i've forgotten
some for better, some for worse
in places i have been along the way

some were good and some were rotten
some sow's ears and some silk purse
there are many that i think of every day

Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end

i've had meals with lowly beggars
I've sat down with queens and kings
Life's  funny ...if i really had to say

that the people i remember
of all my time here on this earth
are the sow's ears,
and the beggars come what may

Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end

some have angels on their shoulders
some have devil's in their heart
but, you will not know, until you let them in

but of the people i've forgotten
and those kept close in my heart
the best ones never care what might have been

Take the time, give everyone a chance
Take a stranger, and treat them like a friend
Life is nothing more than a big dance
And you just don't know when the music's gonna end
i remember riding shotgun
between my ma and pa
mom had on the radio
dad chewed on his chaw

I always rode the middle
Every time in that old truck
I could feel each bounce and bump
Somtimes I had to duck

Ma would play the radio
Jesus music filled the air
Daddy, turned and looked away
Just like he didn't care

Daddy was in Vietnam
He met Ma when he got back
He lost ******* in the war
From a sneak enemy attack

Ma grew up in Jamestown
A small town in Tennessee
Nothing there but the old mine
Nothing much for one to see

She went to church on Sundays
Listened to  WCLC
Jesus music all the time
For the folks in Tennessee

Each Sunday after service
Pa would pick us up at church
He never went inside though
He didn't quite like Pastor Birch

Daddy only owned one suit
He'd had it since the war
He wore it to get married in
It didn't fit no more

The sleeves had gotten shorter
The chest was far too tight
But, since he didn't go to church
To pa....it fit just right

Ma would sit and listen
And I would watch my pa
He'd make faces out the window
Never ever to my ma

Pa had faith, but different
He believed in what he saw
And what struck his eyes in war time
He could never tell my Ma

So, we would go to market
After church, each Sunday morn
Ma would go in shopping
We rush her with the old truck horn

She'd cuss pa when she got back
He'd just smile, enough to say
Let's get home, daylights wasting
There's still chores to do today

When I was nine, well almost ten
Ma got sick, I mean, real bad
She was being called to heaven
And I remember that my Dad

Took me into town to shop
To get a suit and shoes
Before we went he sat me down
And told me the bad news

I cried, for near an hour
Funny thing, my pa did too
I'd never seen this happen
To me, well...this was new

He said, you're ma's a fine one
She's the best person that I know
Now, she's wanted up in heaven
That's all...we need to go

Ma died three days later
Pa phoned up Old Pastor Birch
He told him what had happened
And made plans to use the church

In all my life, I'd never seen
My pa dressed up so good
He said, I don't look perfect
But, I done the best I could

Pa's been gone for thirty years
And you know, I've got his suit
Not the new one that he bought that day
But, the one...he gave the boot

It reminds of the better times
When Ma and Pa and me
would ride out on a Sunday
I'd be shotgun, just to see

I remember riding shotgun
With Ma and Pa, and it was good
Jesus Music on the radio
As I think back...it was good
I believe in a world where you can be whatever you want to be,
Live free,
Don't fit in,
That's the joy of choice,
I believe in a world of acceptance,
Accept what is,
Embrace difference,
That's the joy of choice,
I believe in a world of humankind,
Be a happy human,
Be a kind human,
That's the joy of choice,
I believe in a world of choices to make,
Accept a choice or don't,
That is the joy of a choice,
What you choose is yours and yours alone,
Take it, make it and enjoy every bit of it,
That's the joy of you and your soul.
I'm conflicted by addictions
Choices to be made
Some come with restrictions
The piper must be paid

A small drink after dinner
A smoke out in the yard
Conflicted by addictions
The choices are quite hard

Temptation's round the corner
It's where ever you may look
You're a small fish in the ocean
And the devil baits the hook

Choices are wide open
There are many to be made
But, no matter your direction
The piper must be paid

Compulsive interactions
May drive the train you ride
The devil's the conductor
And he's there right by your side

The devil's in the details
And one day the bill is due
You have to pay the piper
For the choices made by you

He doesn't want your money
He hooked you, that's his goal
Your addictive interactions
Cost you dearly with your soul
The Street is pretty empty
Just the locals out tonight
It's New Year's Eve and chilly
Seems this time, that all is right

No drunken revelers on the Street
All the buildings are shut tight
Except the bar and Gianni's place
On the Street, that's just alright

The Blues Man sits out back right now
And he's looking at the moon
No fireworks, or crystal *****
Say the New Year's coming soon

He coughs a bit, a little harsh
Grabs his medcin, and guitar
then he gently starts to playing
Looking at a single star

There's a few folks in Giannis
Watching the ball drop on tv
The bar is full of locals
Where the New Year's shots are free

But out back of Gianni's
The Blues Man sits in peace
Singing gently to the midnight sky
Sitting besides the drums of grease

This year he found his daughter
Memories of years gone by
And he sings tales of their meeting
To the chilly, midnight sky

His daughter is his lodestone
She keeps him grounded, always did
No matter where he ventured
He always loved his missing kid

She's drinking at the bar now
While The Blues Man sits out back
Singing tunes in Winter Darkness
He lets us in...but just a crack

The door behind Gianni's
Is open, just a bit
It's open for the Blues Man
To go get warm and sit

But, for now, he sits here playing
As the New Year ventures in
He sings songs about redemption
And he drinks his medcin

An hour in and locals
Leave Gianni's and the bar
They venture to the alley
Where he's playing to that star

They join him in silence
Hear his prayer for the year new
They are swept up in his magic
And let him do what he must do

He smiles and keeps on singing
Fills the night air with his voice
For no matter how his life is
He only had one choice

He's the Blues Man, always will be
He's the teller of the tales
He sings songs out in the alley
He's the wind in the Street's sails

He finishes his last song
His daughter standing, smiling wide
She gives him a kiss upon his forehead
And she ushers him aside

He'll wake up again tomorrow
In the alley, cold but free
That's the life of The Street Blues Man
And that's the way ...that it should be.
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