How can so much go wrong under a sky filled with pinks, golds, and blues?
These days, it feels like a chore to turn on the evening news.
Don't get me wrong. I know life has never been a pleasure cruise.
But day by day, I'm getting more addicted to the snooze button

Some days, someone stays late
Not to write
But to sort things out-
A messy house
A healthy meal
And a tiny fellow to rear.

In early dawn someone wakes
Not to read, nor gather thoughts
To write a piece of poem
But strength for all the chores-
From toasting breads
And scrambling eggs,
To determining some life choices
And more.

Sometimes she gets drunk
Not with words nor with wine
But of thinking
Where time has gone
For quite a while
A dead poet has lived within her
For so long.

bartering time for money, wasting it on love
or vice versa

rationalizing choices in white rabbit pocket watch anxiety
a pound of flesh to sell off a soul in limited real estate high yield *******

not a single serving available to nourish the mind
after insipid, ear-bleeding monologue conversations

compiling minutes into days suffered
always searching for that quick high, down to the wire bout of auto-****** asphyxiation

in diamond pressure ulcers born in
self-induced, great expectations
that look like strangers in the distance

the breadcrumbs that resemble the stain of dreams
feed the drama that knows the only truth

the hollow cannot be filled with a diet of Xanax and double shot espresso
dancing through norms on marionette strings

bartering time for love, wasting it on money
or vice versa
when time is all we possess

wondering, if once that currency is depleted,
will your soul finally feel complete

You saw a blueberry
On the corner of the sidewalk
Something you shouldn't have noticed
But unexpectedly took interest
In a blueberry
On the sidewalk

With each passing day
You'd see that blueberry
And with each passing day
You looked forward to it
To a blueberry
On the sidewalk

But eventually, the leaves will fall
And the snow will come
People will move on
And nothing will be left
Nothing at all
Not even a blueberry
On the sidewalk

Some people speak of living for the moment.
Having "carpe diem" as their slogan.
Their decree to want to take life day by day.
Hoping fate will lead the way, and things will always be okay.
Taking it easy; Life is a holiday to be enjoyed and  celebrated the right way.

Others say this is a hippie cliche.
That living day to day isn't living, its surviving.
It's not thriving, to truely live means striving.
Its realizing what you want most and trying.
About devising a plan to achieve all you aspire.
Gain the skills and knowledge you require.
To go higher, elevate and inspire, be someone others admire.
Stand with the fruits of labor in your hand that you have acquired and be proud for getting that which you desire.

Two ways to look at life I guess.
Value one view doesn't make the other less.
Assess what's important to you; pave your own road to success.
Some play the fame of life as checkers; others as chess.

We’ve all met the person that lights up a room
the world stops spinning there is no gloom
I once met a girl
with sunshine on her head
Moonlight in her bones
And lighting in her heart
This girl was so different
So special one could say
That all of these elements
Would stay with her till her dying day
Now only one year I had with her
That was quite a shame
But even after a short while
I knew she felt the same
The sunshine hair
I would see again
But when it happens
I’ll say amen