am i the bull or am i the man?
am i the action or the plan?
am i the canvas or the paint?
am i the miracle or the saint?

On a chilly day of vacant skies
we came to watch the candle rise
by morning sun it took to flight
so men and the heavens could unite

But, our sons and daughters, strong and brave
were too far gone for us to save
there was no time to shed a tear
or give a cry we'd never hear

Across the land the people wept
for hopes and dreams that won't be kept
with ships and men we reach for stars
with blood and tears we mend the scars

But, there'll be a time when the tears are gone
and at that time we must move on
and allow our dreams to be reignited
for Man and Heaven have united.

who knows what's in a paradox,
or what mystery in unlocks?
if all of space is in a box,
can time and space reach equinox?

if truth is put into the stocks,
and good is beaten down with rocks,
if different birds will fly in flocks,
has the rare become the orthodox?

when sheep run faster than the fox,
and jack will jump back in the box,
if the cart is found before the ox,
can time run faster than the clocks?

as you search the orthodox,
look to find the truth it blocks.
for truth should have no equinox.
you've found what's in a paradox

A woman, old and poor,
               has a cabin by the shore.
Here she lives everyday.
Here she is content to stay.

The village people know her well
                from all the stories she will tell
about a warrior long ago.
A man she claims herself to know.

All the children gather 'round,
                  listening to her every sound.
As she speaks she looks about.
She speaks the truth there is no doubt.

"He was strong and brave" she'll say,
                   "and at the times he went away"
"his youthful wife would always cry."
"She knew not where he went, or why."

"All she knew was when he went
                     to all these places he was sent,
that he come back, just as he left,
and wipe the tears that she had wept."

"As he returned from every war,
                      he would come gently to the door.
He'd hold her close, and told her so,
he wished he'd never have to go."

"But, then one day of later years"
                        she says with eyes abound with tears,
"He left again, to not return,
and of his fate she'd never learn."

"She'd wait and wait to have him back,
                         but, he's one thing she'd always lack."
"And, so she waited everyday,"
and here she waits for him today.

i fell asleep
pen in hand
and awoke to a beautiful poem
for as i slept
i dreamt of you
your eyes,
your hair
your kisses, too
i pictured you so vividly
your softness
was so real
that my pen, in inky ribbons
told the world just how i feel
and as i read what i had written
i knew my words were more than true
and so i settled back to bed
for in my dreams
we still are wed

I touch her every chance I get.
I hope to see her in the hall.
I light up when she visits me.
I think of reasons just to call.
- and we're just friends.

I remember her by perfume scent.
I talk to her, so warm and wise.
I smile, she's not even here.
I long to be before her eyes.
- but we're just friends.

I dream and she is here with me.
Her touch lives on for hours, days.
We speak, and yet no word is said.
Hearts unconsciously repeat the phrase,
- we're not just friends.

I try to tell her, but cannot say.
I sigh, I think she already knows,
about a love I did not intend.
And yet it lives. And yet it grows.
- I love my friend!

This late at night
my mind is numb
my pen has molded
to my thumb
yet, somehow words still seem to come.
Soon my body will succumb.

I cannot keep my head upright
It's been a long and useless night.
The words I write they seem so old.
How often can a poem be told?

Perhaps I'd do a world of good
if I laid my pen upon the wood
and instead of chasing every shred
I'll put my words and self to bed.

There is a box inside my room
I do not lock or try to hide.
But, that doesn't mean I'm not ashamed
of what I have inside.

I open it when I'm alone.
I sort through things I'd never show.
I wash my hands when I am done.
I leave it there when I do go.

One day perhaps I'll burn it
when I consider and decide.
When I no longer need such comfort
and come to grips with what's inside

For now I'll simply leave it
unlocked and unattended.
It is a symptom, not a cause
and it needs not to be defended.

Blank pages sit before me
like an ocean to be crossed
So, I set off to explore me
finding treasure never lost

Adventure and excitement
have me sailing to unknown
and the need for understanding
has me setting off alone

The journey is not easy
for the truth is hard to find
and ignorance keeps crashing
through the bottom all the time

But I will keep on going
this kind of poem I can't complete
for its the journey, not the end
that makes the heart within me beat

My life is like a river
winding down unto the sea
and if you sail my waters
then you can get a look at me
I may not be the greatest
of the rivers which have been
but you'll never find a body
that is more proud or genuine

Starting at my source
My family and home
filling me with substance
as I flow off on my own
my water, crystal-clear
alive with plant and fish
and to always be that way
is the one thing that I wish

Friends contribute water
and it helps me as I grow
Flowing ever deeper
running faster as I go
Some would irrigate me
but i'll never be contained
others hope to **** me
but I cannot be restrained

Raging with my water
sometimes my borders overflow
as I give back the sediment
thad borrowed long ago
my water moving mountains
slicing channels through the land
I may not be the greatest
but my canyons have been grand

When I wished to merge
another river I did find
and at once our separate waters
had forever been combined
Our banks were overflowing
from the substance that we shared
and so we pass it on
into the rivers we did bear

Meandering through life
My river not as deep
My water not as clear
and my angle not as steep
But my inside still is living
and that's how I will always be
Until my waters do depart me
when I flow into the sea.

From atop a nearby inkwell
I see the battle rage
Characters as soldiers swiftly march across the page.

Attacking one another
I see a sentence fall.
And me upon my inkwell making reason of it all

Phrases fighting phrases.
Paragraphs collide.
Letters without leaders as the clauses all divide.

When the fighting ended
the punctuation troops arrive
Directing, reconnecting, making sense of those alive.

and now when all's in  order
I see the reasoning indeed.
For, from out of all this fighting comes the story that you read.

all they wanted was a voice,
a place to use it and a choice,
a choice of who will speak for them,
a chance to change him, if and when
they decide that someone new
will better voice their point of view
And this they asked of those who be
But those in charge did not agree.
And to show to them that they did not
the ones who asked for this were shot
And when the rest did see this sight
they knew their comrades had been right
if you do not choose who has the voice
then those in charge will make the choice.
And if its then that you realize
that he who asks for choices dies
then you will finally see the right
and why they knew they had to fight

I know a man who does forget
sometimes its just to feed his pet
or pay for some outstanding debt
The worst of it is as of yet

To start with, he is always late
forgets to call, though one awaits
sometimes he'd even miss the date
his little problems now are great

What time is it? What day's today?
some things this man would always say
He had a watch. It went away.
He lost so many things that way.

And now we cut to future life
forgetfulness has caused great strife
He lost his kids. They're with his wife.
He'd **** himself. Can't find a knife.

He's out of work. He's lost his job.
Can't find his gun or one to rob.
Forgets to bathe? This man's a slob.
And what's my name? It's Bill, no Bob.

So, what's the moral? Can't you see?
As you forget you cease to be.
So, use your head. I now agree.
For you see, this man, he once was me.

A period made a point one day
of the many roles which he could play
an I's dot, a question's mark
or the final point which ends remarks

No other letter, mark or key
is as versatile as me
and if that be proof, then I'm the best
for I see no challenge from the rest

But, there came a character to reckon
yet the period did all but beckon.
And from the bottom of the page
the fearless comma took the stage

As the period did step a side
the comma played its roles with pride

A quotaion's mark, a contraction's dash
and still at times, a colon's slash
plus the ever useful sentence pause
oh yes, my friends, I have great cause

But, I will not make an awesome claim
to say I'm great, yet you are lame
For, my greatest role is in the midst
when i'm no better than those i'm with

The period did not reply
just turned around and gave a sigh
No other character did arise
the comma's words had made them wise
For, its united when we do our best
when no one is better than the rest.

From my window
I see Fido going up to scent the plug
first a sniff, then a dance
*****-the-leg and gives a glance
and then he gives the grand command
to tell to all this is his land

From my window
I see you go, working on your house next door
first you paint, then you trim
and to make your house more genuine
a pink flamingo, proudly shown,
will tell to all this is your home.

From my window
I see clearly, man and beast, we are the same
one may bark, one may think
but both are ruled by their instinct
one may plead, and one may beg
but both by rule must ****-the-leg.

Take me to the gallows
and do what you must do
I understand you're not the man
who said my life was through

A midnight hood does hide your face
but your eyes, they prove you real
and when i look inside at them
I see the pain you feel

Your hand will tie the knot
Your hand will pull the switch
Your hand will drag me down
to where you dug the ditch

But, hangman, I forgive you
for at least you play no game
You wear your mask, and do your job
but to you, I'm just a name.

It comes like a freight
on a runaway track
and it just keeps on coming
I can't hold it back

At least five hundred cars
plus engine, caboose
Could you imagine the horror
if just one should break loose?

Who knows where its going
it won't stop until
the freight is delivered
and the order is filled

And I just a captain
and into my wine.
I'm afraid to get off
this express of the mind.

This rose is for my baby
'cause I want her to know
that every day I spend with her
I never want to go

And every word I say to her,
Every word is true
and to hold her till the end of time
is all I want to do

I've felt the sun
I've felt the rain
I've felt your love
I've felt your pain
I've felt your smile
I've felt your tears
and this I've learned
throughout my fears
I don't lose hope
because it rains
For when the tears are gone
the love remains

I wish that I could be there
to start you on your way
to tell you how I'll miss you
and wish that you could stay

to remind you of the good times
of which I have only heard
But that I see in Tonya's eyes
as she tells me every word

Alisha, you have good friends
as do your boyfriend and your son
In Tonya you have many
of which I am only one

Change,
I need to
Change, somehow I need to.

I'm still the boy who tried to please him
I'm still the boy who did without him

I never could be
the man that I should be

My life goes on.
I am watching from the past
Listening for the signal
telling me to be at last
telling me that I'm a man
coming from the only one it can

Most times I would not say
what was wrong
or ask for help
Though, I knew I could
I just could not
tell you

You see, I loved you
and so respect you
I could not tell you
what I had done
less you not respect me
or not like me

What I needed most
was just some feelings
I could only see that you were mad
so seldom glad
at times so sad

I am ok
I think I am
Perhaps, I could be called a man
But that's something I won't say too loud
That is, until I make you proud.

A day may be a day
and a year may be a year
but, age is just a whisper
that no one need to hear

In your mind and in your spirit
In your heart and in your soul
time does not go by
and the young do not grow old

So, you must keep your chin up
or chins, if be the case
and look inside at your own strength
and the smile upon your face

For in the days when you are feeble
with a body much too frail
inside you'll be the girl
who turns all heads with a fail

Sister,
what it is
to be a brother to you
it is
more than I could hope for
although
perhaps I never said so
I would never care to be
a brother to any other

With the door closed and the window shut
its hard to hear the razor cut
and when the signs are not foreseen
its hard to hear the silent scream
and if your hand had shut the door
then the pain hurts all the more.

A friend who was my sturdy crutch
who brought me home when I had too much
He gave me strength with a word and touch
How do I thank him? I owe him so much.

In his hour of need I did not hear
The silence of his inner fear.
So, I am the one who is to blame?
He called for me, but I never came.
And now that I have come to him,
his eyes of hope have faded dim.

I am solely hurt because I know
that this problem started long ago
and though the signs don't always show
My eyes were blind, my actions slow

So, I am alone, without my friend
But, that doesn't mean our friendship ends
I will talk, and he will hear,
and I always know that he'll be near.

My only wish is that you'd been given
as good a friend as I was Kevin.

I used to have a lot of friends
Many leaves upon my tree
But time has taken all of them
and left me just with me

The wind has taken others
and some depart when sick
a few just up and left
but, others have been picked

And as the autumn greets me
I have no leave to lose
To lie, to die, to try to live.
Somehow, I cannot choose.

And I, in my confusion;
Of one thing I am sure.
Autumn leaves, just like my leaves
and I warmer once before.

I get so frustrated
I lie everyday
I get no better
I get further away
when I was younger
I thought that I still could
No one had told me
I no longer could
But, now I am older
I see that I will not
I see that I cannot
I see that I won't

It wasn't at holidays
We always had those
But sometimes a birthday
more often an 'A'

You came to the beach
but not to my games
sometimes a "well done"
on what's knew and the same

You said you were proud
but how could you be
You saw only my failures
and what you wanted to see

My everyday evils
I handled without you
What knowledge these gave
I deny it is true

I will never be sure of
what you didn't teach me
I doubt every day
what it is to be me

How often have I read a verse
then tried to write a line?
As if, through some divine reverse,
the poem, it could be mine.

But, read too many other books,
I've heard them say I do.
My mind and pen behave as crooks.
I just feel the same way, too.

A burning love,
just like a rose;
what beauty to behold.
But, try to touch it
and feel the thorns.
Much better to be cold.

What I listen to?
It's the dancing of my mind.
The rhythm, beat and solos, too
of whatever beauty I can find.

It's not always rock and roll
or Robert Palmer (though more than not)
I listen to songs now long forgot
but to me, its as if they were new.

what once was just a simple doubt
becomes a fierce and fighting trout
which swims within the river shame
well set upon the hook of blame

the hook and line lead on to fury
pulled on through life, yet have no hurry
and dreading still the day I'm landed
when upon the rocks of fate I'm stranded

apathetic and pathetic. resigned to sighs and dreams
If I only could remember, life's never exactly what it seems

Man,
Who came from monkeys,
all that time ago
has evolved today to greatness.
Well, all the textbooks tell us so.

But,
I think it is quite different,
and other primates would agree.
Life was fine before we came,
and such a time they’d like to see.

For
In our ego occupation
of other  species’ land
we say “it’s mine!” by right divine,
and yet the devil guides our hand.

Yes,
It is they that pay the price
for our destructive evolution
Objectively we hunt them down
subject them to pollution

But,
Perhaps one day far in the future
When the Earth is done with man
some primates then can try again
to bring nobility to our clan.

Don't know how, but love has found me.
Came up fast, with arms around me!
I did not run. I did not hide.
I found my heart was open wide.

I'm married and I'm getting older.
Thought that love had passed me over.
But still it had something to teach me;
I'm not beyond where love can reach me.

So ashamed of what I had become.
Surprised at all I hadn't done.
Prepared to take what life had given.
Sad, resigned, and unforgiven.

And then she comes to rescue me.
Love and passion and a need to be.
Was I dead? For this is life.
For sure. And I must leave my wife.

And yet I don't know what to do...
she has a man and children, too.
And though I need her like no other,
can I take a child from his mother?

And so, from here? I cannot say.
For now I'll love her more each day.
I cannot lose this sustaining breath.
Life without love? I'd rather death.

When the pressures of life
come down on me,
and I don't know where they will end,
I think of you.
You give me hope.
You taught me to find a way, my friend.

You use pleasure
to erase my pain.
Desires to allay my fears.
You showed me
how to love again.
And that I'm worth holding near.

You showed me
that I must live on.
That love and hope, they still endure.
And though you send
me off to live,
you are the one my heart is for.

There is a place I like to go
at times I am feeling down.
A place where I can be at peace,
knowing I will not be found.

I found this place when I was young,
one time I hurt so bad.
Surprised I was to find a place,
that was as nice as I was sad.

I had spent so many afternoons
alone and feeling rotten.
But here, I found a world renewed
and cares were soon forgotten.

Ever since I've kept my place
a secret no one knows.
Worried I would lose my world
If I ever did expose.

But, I would like to tell you,
you're hurt, and I can see.
What you need is time, a place like mine,
so, I'm giving you the only key.

My place has done so much for me.
Every trial I've come through.
And if you come, with just some hope
then it can be a world for you.

I wasn't looking when I found you.
I was escaping. On the run.
My eyes were barely open.
I thought my life was all but done.

But you said "Slow. Slow. Slow it down.
Where are you running to so fast?
Don't you see me here beside you?
I'm not your future, or your past."

"I do not offer you solutions.
I'm not the answer to your prayers.
What I give you; absolution.
Permission to ignore your cares."

You said "both of us have problems.
Lives we'd like to start anew.
But second chances are a myth.
Some things in life you can't undo."

"But you and me, we can be happy.
We can give each other joy.
Just slow down, and stay beside me.
There is enough we can enjoy."

So, here I stay. I'm here beside you,
for a portion of the day.
No longer running. Not yet looking.
And I'm happy
almost every day.

I'm amazed by soft and simple skin
and a heart that will not let me in
and though I know
you won't be mine
My heart will not let me resign

Moments with you, days without
Alone with every fear and doubt
My mind must make the hurting stop
and so will do what my heart cannot

It's the middle of the night and I'm still thinking of you.
Here, tired and blue. It's for you that I long.
But, it's more than just hours and miles between us.
It's you and your life, and I just don't belong.

Once I was sure. I knew I could claim you.
Then I got caught in your eyes...my confidence lost.
You smiled and said "Don't run. I may love you."
But I don't know what that means or what it may cost.

But I do know this feeling, I cannot turn away from.
Though my counselor tells me "Be realistic and strong."
I live in a fantasy from eight to four-thirty,
Yet, here lying awake, it does not feel wrong.

I know you're unsure. Each day is a battle.
Your heart insecure. Do you even need love?
Its to these depths of despair I come so convincing,
to rescue your heart and raise you above.

See, I too am unsettled. No idea if I'm living.
I'm supposed to be grieving, or dating, or such.
Yet I wait for your call to restart my breathing.
It's the hours between when it all gets too much.

Yes, its hours as days, and nights finally over.
Doubts and dreams fade. Of just one thing I'm sure;
You'll never be mine, despite what you've told me.
But your beauty and love will keep me at your door.

It's in the eyes
of youthful play
that true dominion lies.
Building dreams up
day by day.
No limit to their size.

Little minds
and giant hearts
do more than churches can,
to bring the light
into the world
and let it shine on man.

Who invented Mother's Day?
Shall I tell you what some people say?

I've heard that it was mothers
who wanted recognition,
for the thankless work they do
bringing us into fruition.

Some say that it was fathers
wanting just to thank their wives,
for all the pain that they endure
bringing joy into their lives.

Others say that it was babies
telling moms "I love you so".
"You protect and nurture me,
and give me comfort as I grow."

And yet others say its sons
who thought their mothers should be praised,
for teaching love, respect and honor.
Ensuring gentlemen were raised.

But, I say that it was daughters
to tell their moms they now can see,
all that it takes to be a mother,
and because of her, they now can be.

So much she doesn't know about me.
She thinks that she can live without me.
Just wait until she lets me in.
The real confusion will begin.

She'll wonder how she ever made it.
Life before me; over-rated.
And weeks alone feel like forever.
True love becomes her one endeavor.

My face so handsome, how she missed it.
Her neck on fire where I kissed it.
My touch, is there a feeling better?
My words so sweet in every letter.

I'll work magic and she will believe it.
My life and love, she cannot leave it.
If I'm good she won't suspect me.
And she finally know how she affects me.

I need to understand my heart,
before it takes my world apart.
From a marriage that has lived without,
to another who still lives in doubt.

Is love the language that it speaks?
I say with tears upon my cheeks...
or, is pain all that it comprehends,
and love a feeling it pretends?

I do not know these many years.
Too little love, too many tears.
I'm but a fool who played a part,
unsure if I still have a heart.

What a special day I had today.
So special, and it was not even mine.

The sun was warming.
It was God's wind blowing.
And for once, we all were there,
and all our love was showing.
And the children
in the day,
they were laughing, having fun.
And everyone was smiling.
It was all I ever I wanted,
and it was not even mine.

My sister.
It was her day.
And yet the sun could almost die,
but for the radiant Patricia
could keep any heart alive.
Immaculate,
in white and lace.
Enchanting. Captivating.
The gods above did fall in love,
but she shall keep them waiting.

Her husband.
It was his day.
He thanked us just because,
we were who we were,
and he was who he was.
He was genuine in his embrace.
Sincere in his smile.
There beside my sister,
he seemed to strike a certain style.
I knew they would be happy.
This love will last forever.
I could feel it in my heart,
and it was not even mine.

I saw my mother.
She was smiling with a tear.
My father sighed and shook his head,
perhaps somewhere in yesteryear.
Here, witnessing the true event
of what pain and sacrifice are meant.
Knowing in some way she's leaving.
But, in marriage, true believing.
I wanted to laugh as well as cry,
and it was not even mine.

My sisters.
They all did contest.
Competing with the bride.
Resplendent.
They did look their best,
I still cannot decide,
if it was they that looked more beautiful
or more the day
and all the view.
And as I looked around at wide-eyed guests,
I knew that they did wonder, too.

My brothers.
All so strong and cool.
Among the guests,
so sure to fool.
Of four, three of us still *****.
We swear those words will not be said!
We congratulate.
We poke and jibe.
And yet we keep the truth inside.
We stop and think about our day.
We dream.
We hope its something like today.
I dream and sigh,
and want today,
though it was not even mine.

As we gathered for the photograph
I began to see my flaw.
This day that I had wanted,
it was no one's day at all.
For days that are this beautiful,
and this loving, I have learned,
are only lent to us by God,
and soon must be returned.
But we can take from it our memories,
and our dreams and friendships, too.
Patricia and Mike will take each other,
and a love that lives anew.

As you go I'm pressed to say,
you're leaving in so many ways,
and each of them I'll miss with reason.
With you it's been a fruitful season.

You're going with your brains and skill.
I never realized it until
I think of working on my own.
Yet, by your side, I see I've grown.

You're going with your wit and smile.
I've never realized all the while,
how much better work can be
with you here to joke with me.

You're going with you hugs and kisses.
The one thing I will surely miss is
how you made my burden lighter
and every day a little brighter.

You're leaving with your Cuizinart.
I should've told you from the start,
it is a loss, and I do grieve it,
and to see if maybe you will leave it. :)

But Pat, what I'll miss most is you.
You've been a friend so rare and true.
And the one thing I must say to you,
You have my thanks and my love too.

I have a switch.
Won’t someone turn me on?
Push my buttons.
Listen to me hum.

How lonely I have been
upon this counter top.
Remembering a time
when my motor never stopped.

Once so indispensable,
saving money, space and time.
But my faded almond housing
says that I am past my prime.

I curse Ronco and Popeil.
I curse China and Taiwan.
I curse the girl who had to have me.
Her fascination quickly gone.

Can you hear me crying?
Where is my infomercial now?
My three-easy payments over.
Guarantee void anyhow.

Won't someone push my button?
Won't you listen to me hum?
Here I sit, just waiting
for that yard sale sure to come.

Please. Will
someone take this weight
from up on me?
It's killing me,
and I don't
know how to put it down.

Wait.
I do not like the light
that's up on me.
It’s seeing me,
and I know
I don't like what it's found.

Sleep;
she is my mistress.
Her gentle love I can't deny.
Seduction.
Satisfaction.
How I lament an opened eye.

Oh,
what beauty I behold,
when I hold her in my eye.
But,
her face, behind a veil.
I cannot see it. How I try!

We meet in midnight hours.
Sometimes I go to her by day.
And I find her always anxious,
though she knows I cannot stay.

Solace,
she surrenders.
And what comfort I receive.
But,
it makes it only harder,
in the morning when I leave.

The desire in my eyes,
It is no secret for to see,
as I
awake
aside
a wife,
it is
asleep
I'd rather be.

Perhaps that we are both but vines,
crawling cross the ground.
Searching for security.
Not knowing where it's found.

One day we find each other.
Our instincts are to twine.
I want you for your energy,
and you want me for mine.

Selfishly we use each other.
Still crawling as we grow.
Taking from each other,
no matter that we know.

How far can we get like this?
Never trying on our own.
Two vines can only get so high
if together they have grown.

We support, and we compete.
In the end, just one survives.
Now, I find it's from your shadow
that my nourishment derives.