½* a love is not a ¼th as rewarding,
though its heartache lasts twice as long.
One day you're believing in soul mates,
the next its like every sad song.

Don't believe her
when she says she'll leave him,
if you could *just... be there...  for her...  right now...
It's not just that she can't.
It's not just that she won't.
It's that she doesn't even want to know how.

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.

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

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

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.

I kick the earth beneath my feet
as I walk towards my flock of sheep.
Snow, it came in force last night
(my bedroom door was frozen tight).
Yet, as I woke, I thought of them.
How many did the cold condemn?

A shepherd? That I call myself.
Yet, I've laid my crook upon the shelf.
I read in tales of shepherds grand.
I'm no more a shepherd than a man.
I sleep in warmth and they in cold.
Of me, no stories shall be told.

And I do believe I am a fool.
I go on about "I am so cruel"
The pasture finds them sleeping well.
So quick to say what had befell.
No, I am no shepherd. I'm just a fool
Who forgot that sheep were dressed in wool.

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 ones 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.

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.

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.

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.

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

I stand here today
alone, brokenhearted,
to say
I do not understand Love.
No, not at all.
Its easy when new,
or newly unparted,
when the flame of desire outshines every flaw.

But, when seen through the eyes
of three decades behind us,
it doesn't seem all that thrilling,
that new
or that grand.
It wears like a harness with the weight of forever.
So tell me,
then why is it in so much demand?

I've been told,
while its true,
that your heart is a muscle;
it doesn't get stronger, but weaker from use.
I thought I knew better.
I thought I was Rustle.
But that granite presumption
she did disabuse.

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

Dad,

Where are you? Can you hear me?
Can we communicate right now?
It's your son, and I've grown older,
but still so much I don't know how.

It's just a few years since you've left us,
though for many you were ready.
I saw you fade  but to a whisper,
from a voice so strong and steady.

And though you may have thought
I couldn't wait for you to die;
Today, I stand bewildered.
I beg for one more chance to try.

To try to ask you how you did it;
be a husband and a dad?
Things I never thought to ask you,
or did not know how since I was mad.

But, they throw food across the table.
Constantly fight and misbehave,
and then my wife feels so defeated.
(You must be turning in your grave.)

I worry so I've failed my boys.
As I remember, so once did you.
Though my brothers and I, we made it.
Just exactly how, **I never knew.

The things I never saw you do,
yet, you must've done somehow.
Solving all the world's dismays.
Never failing in your vow.

You made it look so easy.
So calm and  yet concerned.
No question left unanswered.
No compliment unearned.

You always looked undaunted.
Did you ever want to run?
Where did you find the answers
on exactly how to raise a son?

I sat smugly as a young man
dismissing all you said to me.
But, sadly now I sit here
wishing for one more chance to see.

Dear Mr. Cupid,

I hope you are well. Please forgive this letter’s intrusion. I know you are busy, preparing your bow, and planning this season’s collusions. I’ll remind you though Sir, of the issue I had with the last year’s arrow consignment. Your aim was amiss, and I’d be remiss if I failed to seek your reassignment. I’d like somebody new to deliver my true - love for which I have been waiting. For it has been so long since my wife ran along, and everyone says that I should be dating. So please, if you would send somebody good to shoot Love's arrow at me. Thank you in advance for forgoing this dance.

Sincerely,
Mr. Oso Lonely

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.

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.

Something has me quite unsure
of the security I've known.
Eyes see from the mirror
how little I have grown.

Years ago I dreamed and planned
of accomplishing this test.
But, now I sit and cough.
I know I've never done my best.

My resolutions left unsolved
No strength to take my hand
How easy too, to just get through.
How hard to be a man.

But, one thing I am sure of,
and let no one else deny;
One day I know I'll make it.
I will do this before I die.

Forgive me father,
for I am Sin
and I am here
to take you in.

Its been thirty years
since my last confession,
but mere moments
since your last transgression.

and though you thought
all had gone unseen,
your hands and soul  
remain unclean.

You took
our Father's Sacred Trust,
and through it proclaimed
yourself as just.

And, while children,
yes, they will believe,
the eyes of mine
you can't deceive!

I know what you did
and you know to who,
and I'll not let you
draw the curtain through.

Your crimes,
these I will expose;
For my friend,
the victim no one knows.

No one knows him,
because he's dead.
because of you.
Because he bled.

You see,
he thought he
was just a boy.
Not some secret to destroy.

So,
it didn't make sense to him to live,
because of what you said
and what you did.

But, don't you ever believe
that Our Lord allows
men like you to break these vows,
and then disclaim
and then rebuke
a boy who dared to speak the truth.

You watched as a child sank and died
and to the Courts, how loudly you denied.

But,
don't believe that I am ever fooled,
and my vengeance will not be overruled.

For I am Sin,
and I don't care how much you cry.
**My Hell awaits the day you die.

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.

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.

Its been so long since my pride has let me see
I have my faults, and yes, they get the best of me
I was inside a dream
thinking I was what I see
But, now that I've awaken
I know that 'I' could never be

Its not too late, I can do if I decide
I know I can improve
and that my will will turn the tide
From some pocket, now unseen
I'll pull my strength and walk behind it
But, that pocket, still unseen, somehow I need to find it.

We are supposed to be at the hospital. The rest of my family is already there. My wife is yelling up the stairs. What am I doing. What's going on. We have to leave.

But I can't leave. I'm listening to a song. Searching it. I may have already heard it some thousands of times in my life. But this time is different. I'm listening for something. Something I think I’ve heard in it before. Only, at this moment it's kind of a life and death thing.

Forty miles away my sister lies in a Philadelphia hospital bed. Unconscious. Around her several machines sustain her life. My six other sisters and three brothers shuffle around and breathe the rest of the oxygen out of the room.  Right now, they're waiting for me to arrive so that we can end her life together. But I can't do it. I can't get up. I can't even make my legs move. I look down at my feet. My shoes. How do I put them on? At forty-one I'm so ashamed at all that I do not know.

Sitting here, frozen. Looking for answers from a Led Zeppelin song. It's just a reminder of how worthless I've become. Though, the truth is that I've never been good at anything. And this is my dilemma. How do I learn to become the man my family needs me to be, while somehow keeping the important parts of my world the same...as in not losing my sister.

For me, right now, only one thing is true; as long as I sit here, my sister is alive. As soon as I go there, *she dies.

You said one day we'd be together
Not for the night, but for forever
You said one day
                        that you would be
                                                  my one and only

But here I am, all these years later
the gap between grown only greater
And word from you
                        comes only through
                                                  when you are lonely

What happened to your grand design?
Were you really planning to be mine?
Or am I a fool
                        who wanted wool
                                                but fell for cotton?

Imperfect then, Imperfect now
Never wanted perfection anyhow
Just can't believe
                      I'd be deceived
                                                and then forgotten

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 Gravity,
and it holds us together.
We bend space and time
and this pulls us towards each other.
And though it's true
that its a law that can't be broken,
there are forces at work to keep us apart.

We are all
hurtling our way into space.
Our colors change
and we see each other less.
Just to say....
it gets harder each day.
So much space,
and all but ours to fill.

But,
to be the Earth and the Moon,
his one companion.
He holds her near to him
with unseen arms.
Spending days revolving around each other.
Gazing at us stars with knowing eyes.

So many stars,
and all so like each other.
From far away, faces hard to see.
But, to the Earth and Moon we are familiar.
To the Earth and Moon we're family.

See,
it is the stars that illuminate their worlds.
Without our light,
there would be nothing left to see.
We chase the night and the cold of empty space.
We carry with us the promise of another day.

The Earth and Moon
know our destiny lies beyond.
They let us roam,
though they long for eons past.
Over time, even constellations change.
But, throughout
there is a bond that holds us fast.
It's Gravity.

I am Guatemala
I am its mountains and its shore
I am its black sand beaches. I am its artists and its poor

I am the mist from its volcanoes
I am its limestone richly carved
I am the Mayan, and the Latin. I am the hungry and the starved

I am its folklore and its future
I am its markets and its clothes
I am the abandoned and forgotten. I am its children no one knows

I am its colorful conventions
I am its jungles and its fare
I am its colonial traditions. I am the pilas in the square

I am Guatemala
I am its living and its dead
One is always Guatemala, no matter how far we are spread

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

I cannot be as weak as this
I pick the **** up to my lips
Inside I cringe
at every binge
I do despite my thoughts of right.

I believe I can control myself
but, I must be thinking of someone else,
for this dependence
that's over me
has taken my ability;
- to see the good in all that's bad
- to get a smile from someone sad
but,
what's the use of optimism?
what good is hope inside this prison?

My addiction's taken over me
though I have a dream to be set free

But, a prisoner I am bound to me
unless some force inside of me
unleashes strength
unto my soul
Regaining all that drugs have stole
and if this happens
if it only could
that I'd set my old **** down for good.

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.

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 game.
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 everyday what it is to be me.

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

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 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.

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

I'm growing up.
My mind is changing everyday.
The time is passing,
but I don't let it slip away.
With every action
I take two problems into play.
I'll find the answers
and I can't wait another day.

My life's unfolding,
but I have seen it all before.
One day I will be rich,
although for now I may be poor.
The doors aren't open,
yet it still feels like a tour.
But, there is chance
and that's a fact I can't ignore.

I heed each step
yet I care not about the stride.
I know I'll get there
and that effort will provide.
I'll reach for stars
and that someday I will decide,
that I have made it,
and then I'll find a place to die.

I can't seem to make up my mind
whether to go to sleep
or write a line
I take so long to make a move
I tend to grind into a groove.

I make a choice
but, do not act.
I use my voice, but let it crack.
I know what to do, but I do not
and so, I always seem to miss my shot.

Procrastination, Indecision, Laziness and Pride
Together, they conspire
to keep me down
and locked inside.

I have come close so many times.
I tell myself I'll see it through.
But, then in the fury of the moment
I always seem to miss my cue.

But, it isn't timing
or dependence
that keeps me waiting for someday.
Its the knowing I can do it
If I could
just get on my way.

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.

Why won't these words release me?
They abstract me in my mind.
I will find internal peace
if an exit I can find.

I'm sad.
I should know why.
But, to put to words, I'm not sure that I...

Well, you see,
the way I handle problems,
the way I come to grips,
I put my thoughts to paper
as if I pull them from my lips.

I read them, finding meaning;
finding rhythm to my rhyme.
But, this sadness that I feel,
it just won't fit in metered time.
When I try to let it flow
I get a log jam in my mind.
All I get is garbled senses
with truth impossible to find.

Yes, all I do is scrawl confusion.
Yet, maybe that will say it best.
For,
how can I divulge the answers*
when  I never passed the test.

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.

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.

I call upon my pen and pad
to prove my worth tonight
As I grow fat and lazy
I lose the urge even write

It used to be in words
that I became a useful man.
But, now its not enough
just to write as though I am

Words speak high and mighty
but its actions that proceeds
Too concerned with my desires
and not enough about my needs

I'm determined to become the man
my words have said I'd be.
If my dear pen would just oblige
I'd like to reach my destiny.

I used to think
it helped me write
but,
now I see how wrong I was
It doesn't help at all, in fact
it ruins all I does
I want to stop
I wish I could
sometimes, I even say I should
But,
ask me if I think I could?
and I'll just sigh and knock on wood

I woke up late at night
and I went into the room
I made the sacred gesture
as I entered in the tomb  
Well, it gets colder everyday
Perhaps I'll be there soon to stay

I woke up late at night
and I hadn't put it down
I knew somehow I'd fallen
but, I hadn't hit the ground
Well, it gets darker every night
The next may never bow to light

I woke up late in life
much maturer then I cared
I've known the answers and the problems
but the truth for once was dared.
Well, it gets easier every year.
You have to lean to live with fear

Jaedan, please don't ride
your bike to the corner...
I saw you the last time;
You even went further.

I know that the next time
you'll go farther than that.
My heart's just not ready
for what comes after that.

Please, just stay out in front,
right where I can see you.
I know it gets boring,
but, if you agree to...

I'll help you build castles,
play games never-ending.
So long as you stay right here
while we are pretending.

You think I'm a giant
that makes every bugaboo flee.
But, the truth is I crumble
with every scrape of your knee.

I just am not ready to see you
ride off 'round the corner.
Won't you stay with me Jaedan,
just a few more years longer?

Rise!* Oh, Mighty Jupiter;
Our Father now forgotten.
Come claim your rightful reverence.
Your pagan pedigree misgotten.

You were once our Shining Father;
Great King of all the Sky.
But you allowed your world to set
so a new Son could arise.

Zeus once ruled before you, and
Jesus became your heir.
Today not many realize
how we got from here to there.

I have considered for some moments
how our thoughts of god do change.
Plural notions of so long ago,
today can seem so strange.

We like to think we've come so far,
since those pagan days of yore.
Have we abandoned superstition
or just embraced it even more?

It was millennia ago
that Zeus ruled Mount Olympus.
He, their leader, more than father,
often beaten by hubris.

The Greeks, they worshiped leaders,
seeking standing in this forum.
Such desires, democratic
became their gods that ruled before them.

As the centuries moved on,
your new Latin home was Roma.
Your title too, transformed
to reflect a new persona.

To Zeus we added "Father",
or in Latin, pater, we prefer.
So Zeus, becomes Zeus-pater,
Zupater, then Jupiter.

Our names for gods reveal
exactly how they fill our needs.
Over time our needs evolve
and so a new name supersedes.

As Rome aged, it developed  
a need to know god as a man.
To be one of his number.
To see themselves as of his clan.

This zeus, he can be talked to,
can be greeted and be known.
They "Hail Zeus" as HeyZeus.
And now its Jesus on the Throne.

Through such inquests we can see
the needs Gods fill evolving,
from cold, covetous Kings
to a begotten Son absolving.

We imagine in the Heavens
things to help us understand,
how a universe so endless
can be the realm alone of man.

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!

There was a man, he had his hour.
It came upon him late one night.
From the darkness of his room,
he heard a call so faint and slight.

He felt a tug down deep inside.
He knew that he would have to go.
Moving swiftly for the door,
all his actions seemed to flow.

Down the streets two blocks, then left.
Up the corner, now take a right.
Mechanically he moved through town.
He had no time to waste tonight.

Finally he’s at the place.
Going in, split-seconds pass.
The robber sees him, waves a gun;
“now put ‘em up or lose your ***!”

He fails to do and so he gets,
A gun aimed and set to go.
He hits the floor, the gun it shoots
The robber reacts much too slow.

He missed our man, but shot the wall.
The bullets bounce where they came
The robber somehow shot himself.
That god he had such careful aim.

And now, it over, our hero stands;
How fate may great a wondrous treat.
You see our man came not to tempt his fate.
What he came for was a bite to eat.