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Steven L Herring May 2017
My heart goes out to all the victims
of circumstance
Bombs bursting
Flesh torn to a tattered mess
Blood spattered
Sidewalks full of brain matter
and bones splintered
into nothing more than pick up sticks

In a world crying
and dying
for remorse,
all we see is your face
Staring
and uncaring
A toothy grin lights your dark visage
and your word for word interpretation
of your puny god's message
to dispatch the souls of the infidel
like trees felled
in a forest for not being hard enough

Just what are you trying to do?
You're all kookoo
for cocoa puffs
and the band plays along
to your song
too afraid to pass judgement
too afraid to get it wrong

You should know
that there are those of us
sitting
waiting
in the shadows
juggling our hammers
ready to lay hands of retribution on you
Just as soon as somebody says GO!
For thine eyes are filled with hate
and blood lust
and our hammers will fall for you
Steven L Herring May 2017
It's cool to see all my friends get older
All that grey in their beards
Laugh lines and crows feet
creeping away from their faces

Life's at noon and lunch is on the table
Youth's slipping away,
but dinner still seems a far distance
and the bell has yet to be rung

I see sunshine slipping in through open doors
and a warm breeze envelopes us
as we laugh and talk over a sandwich
even though we're so far away from each other

There will be dark clouds and storms to weather
There will be tears and sadness in our hearts,
but they will be fleeting and short lived
as long as we stick together

Pictures of kids and stories of our own youth
keep us young
Our memories of the good times are just waiting
to be overwritten by better ones yet to come

We're in the twilight of our lives,
but there's a full moon in the sky
When it's dark and cold don't be afraid!
The sun will rise on us again to
warm our hearts and ease our minds
of the troubles of dark and stormy nights

We will dine together one last time
and we will cross life's last line
under a star filled sky
Smiling
Laughing
Loving
Celebrating our friendship
as we gracefully slip into the great unknown...
together
Steven L Herring May 2017
It's cool to see all my friends get older
All that grey in their beards
Laugh lines and crows feet
creeping away from their faces

Life's at noon and lunch is on the table
Youth's slipping away,
but dinner still seems a far distance
and the bell has yet be rung

I see sunshine slipping in through open doors
and a warm breeze envelopes us
as we laugh and talk over a sandwich
even though we're so far away from each other

There will be dark clouds and storms to weather
There will be tears and sadness in our hearts,
but they will be fleeting and short lived
as long as we stick together

Pictures of kids and stories of our own youth
keep us young
Our memories of the good times are just waiting
to be overwritten by better ones yet to come

We're in the twilight of our lives,
but there's a full moon in the sky
When it's dark and cold don't be afraid!
The sun will rise on us again to
warm our hearts and ease our minds
of the troubles of dark and stormy nights

We will dine together one last time
and we will cross life's last line
under a star filled sky
Smiling
Laughing
Loving
Celebrating our friendship
as we gracefully slip into the great unknown...
together
Steven L Herring May 2017
I can't save you.  
Maybe somebody else can,
but I'm drowning all by myself over here.  
Can't you see this?  

I'm hanging on
to so many other people right now
that I have no free hands for you,
but if you can find a corner
of my shirt then grab on.

Don't say I didn't warn you,
and stay the **** away from my feet.
I'll kick you
I'm not strong enough to know
the difference between
helping and hurting,
and if you're weak like me
we'll both

s
   i
       n
            k
Steven L Herring May 2017
Pssst!  Hey, what are you looking at?
I'm over here.
You keep walking over me,
but we're attached at the heel

You can take your shoes off,
but we share the same soul;
barefoot in the ocean
or in ten inches of snow

I'm with you thick or thin
All that *****
can't hide me, and by me I mean we,
because I'm deep within.

How long will you keep talking to yourself?
You know everybody's looking right?
They're looking at you
looking at me,
while you try to convince the world
that you're not ******* crazy!

Don't you see that I love you man?
Everyone else does but you.
You stand in front of that sink a liar everyday,
And I stand there with you, tears in my eyes
and words stuck behind the lump in my throat
to tell you that it's gonna be okay.

You're not the only one here;
standing in front of this stupid mirror.
I'm right here with you, brother.
We love you,
but you
have to love you
too!
Steven L Herring May 2017
While I was in getting my latest tattoo a week ago, I expressed an interest in the possibility of getting a line or two from one of my own poems tattooed on me somewhere.  I'm not sure that Stan (my artist) understood that I was talking about my own writing.  His answer to my expressed desire was basically a question: why words, when a picture is worth a thousand words?  

     It was an awkward moment for me because I totally agreed with what he said, but in my mind I was very upset.  I wanted to answer him with "because I can't ******* draw, so all I have is my words!", but I didn't.  So the awkward moment was inside my mind and stayed there to never come out until now.  

     Honestly, I'm not really even sure if I've written anything worthy of being permanently placed on my skin.  I'm not even sure I have written anything worthy of even having been taken out of my mind and put in plain view for anyone to see in the first place.  I've always been jealous of the traditional artist who paints and draws and sculpts.  They create life out of absolutely nothing but pigment and paper and even trash.  

     What does a novelist do, but lie about some fictitious event or group of charachters on some world based ever so lightly on reality and sell a reader on his or her ******* to escape their own.  That's pretty harsh.  I realize that.  I guess I can admit that artists are doing the exact same thing, but with much greater effort and, often times, with less environmental impact!  Maybe not.  I don't know.  

     I guess as a man who dabbles in poetry, and I don't dare call myself a poet, I'm just jealous of the attention that other art forms get from audiences.  A painter spends so much time on her canvas, puts it out for the world to see, and the effort immediately receives criticism, both good and bad.  The same thing can be said about musicians.

     Poetry is different though.  It's much more subjective.  I've both written and read topical poetry that was simple and to the point, but that writing is usually just slogans, or maybe even post card worthy crap.  I've done the same thing with poems that I've read a thousand times and I STILL couldn't figure them out!  There really is such a thing as overly clandestine.  I've learned that over the years.  You can play hide and seek, but if nobody finds you, then it's no fun right?

     All art really does is give it's creator an outlet to express himself or herself no matter the vehicle.  Maybe I'll find that perfect stanza of my own words to put on my calf.  Maybe my tattoo artist will read the words and love them.  Maybe he'll scoff, take my money, and throw them up in a hurry.  I guess it doesn't matter much.  Like anyone else who creates, I do it because I have to and not because I want to and, while it would be nice if I could connect with people over my creations, in the end I don't care.  I'm just like every other artist out there who loves what they do and ******* if you don't!
Steven L Herring May 2017
I was driving yesterday, and while in traffic
I saw a car with the word security
in big bold black letters
stretched out across the smallish white bumper.

The driver of that car went left,
and I switched lanes to travel right.
I didn't feel secure behind him.
I felt trapped in his presence.

The further I went away from security,
the closer I felt to freedom.
People get the concepts of freedom
and security mixed up in their minds

all the time.  While there is security in freedom,
it's the security of being free
and providing for yourself,
not depending on someone else to make you feel safe.

Security is the result of freedom that you fight for,
not the servitude you surrender to.
Do you want to surrender to security,
or do you want to fight for freedom?
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