He worked, all bent
And sweat of brow.
It's how his life went
He remembers it now.
He was told consistently
Since his early childhood
“Hard work earns rewards.”
He believed as a child would.

He believed in the dream
And worked hard most days
Saving whatever he could
Economizing in many ways.
There were no vacations
No brand new automobile.
He was sure in time he'd see
His debts brought to heel.

He bought a modest shack
For his wife and their children.
Nothing fancy, rather tight,
In no way was it modern.
But it was a roof, and safety
A harbor at the end of day.
That sadly came to an end.
The economy took it all away.

He still wants to believe
The dream he believed in
But now he and his family
Have no house to live in.
He feels someone lied to him
And they are doing so still.
Now he is angry at those
Who wrote such awful bills.

I am the rejected child
The neglected son or daughter
That did not live up
To the standard that we ought to
Because we are not
A carbon copy of our parents,
And what we are in life
Is so very honestly apparent
That they can no longer lie
To their friends and neighbors.
We are symbols of rebuke
Of all of their dishonest labors
To make living our lives
All about how they want to look
And how upset they are
That we didn't play by the book.

Some of it is because
The religion they never really studied
Got all tangled up with ego
And the truth became too muddied
For them to pick apart the facts
From fears created for financial gain
Based on ancient stories
That disregard the hurt of others, the pain.
But, their child is one of them
Those others they choose to proudly hate.
But, if they examine themselves
They can change, it is never too late.
If they ask themselves “If God made us
Didn't he make me as well as you?
Surely this moral infanticide
Is not what he wanted you to do.”

I look through my photographs
And see a person I never knew.
An open smiling soul you might
Tell almost anything you wanted to.
And what a fine face I had
With shining unlined skin.
I look at that face and shake my head
Wish I looked like that again.

I don't remember being that cute
It must be a camera trick.
I'm surely not that hot now.
This just makes me sick.
Someone just managed to
Aim that cheap camera right.
Or else it was the lighting
Whether day or night.

I remember that outfit
And the length of my hair.
But I am sure someone doctored
This picture up somewhere
Because I never take pictures well.
I always look like a freak.
I mean these picture make me
Look like I had a widow's peak.

And, look how tiny my waist
And how great my style was then.
I wish I could be that hot
And that young once again.
I would  take that face back again
In a minute if I knew how.
But please no pictures of me today.
I don't like my pictures now.

You dissolute deputation
Of disparate dipsomaniacs
Disparately determined
To drive me, distance me
Definitely, diametrically
Dizzily daft, daily.
Ditzy, I determined to
Deftly divide them;
I defy them, deny them,
Don't deify them
But deride them
Stand beside them
And guide them
To wander away
Until some other day
Some other fool
Who, as a rule
Digs abuse and misuse.

It's not a truce
But an absolute demand
For their total surrender
So they remember
From December to December
I am not a lifetime member
Of the “Beat Me” club.
Aye, there's the rub
You thought I liked it
So you could spike it
Like a basketball.
But, my soul is not at all
Into anything you could call
Masochism or submission.
So, if your mission is
To collect acolytes and slaves
You'd just better save that
For someone sicker than I
And bid me a fond goodbye.

I want to write a poem
So others will hear
The music in here,
In my heart and soul
So it plays a strong role
Helps people reach a goal
In putting aside hate
Before it's too late
And we despoil the soil
And ruin our own world
So that boys and girls
No longer can play
But must scrabble away
Their childhood in clay,
Hands filthy in poverty.
Let that poet be me.

I want to write a poem
With words so ringingly clear
That anyone who hears
Knows that I hold dear
The idea of equallity
That all can exist happily
Loving one another
Like sisters and brothers
Living together fruitfully
Truthfully, dutifully,
Sharing their destiny
And a rewarding future
That has no measure
Beause it is pure pleasure
And because it is bountiful,
It is completely  beautiful.

I just want it to happen
Like it's a work of magic.
Like some kind of miracle
That cancels all that is tragic.
A spontaneous kind of thing
Without me saying a word
As if you read my very thoughts
As if somehow you heard.

It's a hope I've had all my life.
The perfect lover comes along
Saying exactly what I need to hear
Never puts one foot wrong.
Someone proud to be by my side
That I never have to show the way
And stay beside me as I sleep
At the end of every perfect day.

Because I can't stand any more
Of the things I've had to bear.
The many kinds of disrespect
And the obvious lack of care.
I need that someone special
Who has the gift of giving.
Who sees in me perfection
Your world, life, and everything.

I've had too much of the rest
The other kind of love affair
Where I am just a stopgap
They didn't ever really care.
The love I am looking for
And who you just have to be
Is the soul of romanatic essence,
Absolute perfection, like me.

Randolf the bluenosed bigot
Much preferred to tell a lie;
Even if truth fit better
But he never quite knew why.
It was the way he grew up
Telling tales instead of truth.
It was the way his folks were
Ever since his very youth.

Lists of people are no good;
Black and yellow are the worst.
There is a list of who's okay.
White Republicans come first.
And if the truth is told here
Rights belong just to the white.
Granting rights to gals and gays
Never can be truly right.

Randolf thinks God's on his side.;
Made some of the people best.
Being Caucasian and Christian
Puts him ahead of all the rest.
Randolf thinks we all should do
What his religion says to do.
All of that crap about equality,
Randolf doesn't think it's true.

I found seashells and driftwood,
Cans and bottles and much more
Like diapers and picnic stuff
While walking along the shore.
I found cigarette butts and bags
And those horrendous soda holders
That catch on sea life and twist them
In their middle or at their shoulder.

I saw palm trees and jacaranda
Waving in the balmy breeze
And broken plastic lawn chairs
Leaning against the lovely trees.
I found six-packer carriers sitting
With all the beer bottles inside.
I saw pieces of bicycles and big batteries
And I swear I almost sat and cried.

But I had too much to do right then
Gathering up all that random junk.
I carried them to a ******* bin
And I threw it all in, kerthunk!
I wondered for the hundredth time
The parents these creeps had
That let them grow so ill behaved,
And so embarrassingly bad.

What kind of selfish brat can come
And look out on this lovely scene
And throw their ******* all around?
How can they be so mean?
It makes me hope for recompense;
That what goes around come again
And we can stash these human pigs
Into an appropriate kind of pen.

Are you still beating your babies?
Are you still punching your kid?
Are you still calling it discipline;
Not the worst thing you ever did?
Is it always a case of deserving
The punishment you mete out?
Where you teach them what is what;
Call them disgusting names and shout?

Break out the heavy leather belt
Go cut me a big switch
You kids are ******* me off
You’re giving me a big itch.
Bend yourself over here
Don’t run and make me catch you.
Remember this is all your fault.
You’re making me do this to you.

When you get in the mood to punish
Do dress in a special costume?
Does it have to take place in a woodshed
Or in some special kind of room?
Do you double up your fist and hit
Or do you have special equipment?
Does the physical treatment you hand out
Contribute to your fulfillment?

Break out the heavy leather belt
Go cut me a big switch
You kids are ******* me off
You’re giving me a big itch.
Bend yourself over here
Don't run and make me catch you.
Remember this is all your fault.
You’re making me do this to you.

In a world of deserving irony
You’d have to wear a disguise
So neighbors would know about you
And authorities could be made wise.
Then someone could call in specialists
To give some of what you give
And teach you eye-for-an-eye truth
About the way you live.

Break out the heavy leather belt
Go cut me a big switch
You kids are ******* me off
You’re giving me a big itch.
Bend yourself over here
Don't run and make me catch you.
Remember this is all your fault.
You’re making me do this to you.

She was a little stick of a thing
More of a twig than a branch.
She had freckles instead of makeup
But man could that girl dance!
She wore a sack of a dress
With simple holes for her arms
But I was immediately captured
By her open-hearted charm.

It was an accidental meeting
And a charming mental greeting
Two strangers seeking seating
That did not end up as fleeting.

I didn’t own a crystal ball
So I could certainly not see
What this little bit of a girl
Would come to mean to me.
She had beautiful eyes
The color of aged whiskey
That could make a guy
Want to do something risky.

A lovely accidental meeting
And a charming mental greeting
Two strangers seeking seating
That did not end up as fleeting.

So I took her with me dancing
As a harmless thing to do
For two people who are strangers
To whom everything is new.
I expected it to be awkward
Could this beauty even dance?
How was I to know that this
Would be the start of romance?

A simple accidental meeting
And a charming mental greeting
Two strangers seeking seating
That did not end up as fleeting.