A girl sits alone on worn, cracked steps
Not seen by any, but seeing of all
She sees the beauty, and lovely things
She sees the ugly, and tragic things

People pass by the worn steps, isolated from all
They need to see, she thinks
To see the beautiful and lovely things
To see the ugly and tragic things

Pen in hand, paper on lap
Chewing on lip, taking a breath

She writes of tenderness,
A cheeky child grinning as he embraces his mother

She writes of adrenaline,
A reckless teen screaming as he jumps off a waterfall

She writes of anguish,
An old man sobbing as he holds his lifeless dog

She writes of loneliness,
A girl sitting alone on worn, cracked steps

Stomp, stomp, stomp
Unhappy glares
He walks up the stairs
The kid is stirring up tears.
Yelling and cries
Mixed with more stomping
You told me I was unwanted,
To just go away if I wasn't helping.
You didn't even tell me what you were doing,
It's not ignoring if I can't hear you.

At what point does sadness step into depression.
Memories fade to entertaining images.
Yet havent brought a smile for some time now.
The faces that brightened up the days.
Have moved on.
Leaving small keepsakes behind.
But one dares not touch them.
In fear that they too will evaporate.
Erasing their existence all together.
Even now.
Some erode with just the mere thought.
Of what was once held so dear.
What is to become of it all.
Everyday that inches by.
Does an inevitable page tear itself away.
And submission.
Has only brought cold fingers to numb it all.
This transmutation has coiled silently around its unaware prey.
Once was their comfort found in its constricting grasp.
Even now..
Does it not seem the way it is.
For with every precious moment devoured.
Is there one less to look back on.
In melancholy.

I got three hours
Of sleep last night
And the one day
Something new
Or exciting happens
I’m too tired
So when I notice you
Starting to stare at me
From across the room
Watching you find ways
To touch me
Brushing my arm as you go by
Moving your knees
Back and forth
Until ours touch
But I was too tired
To think about you
All I could think about
Was my cozy bed
Waiting at home for me
And now
Writing this poem
I realize that maybe…
I should try to get more sleep

To judge another is really not your place
You never know how it feels unless you live inside their space
But maybe your just stupid, ignorant, or dumb
Please enlighten me tell me which one

Bellicose beer-belled bad-*****
Bawdily belting down brewskies
Usually, boozily, bruisily beating
On weaker, sleeker funseekers
In the bar where they are, far
From anything like maturity
Hip hip hooray for unhip USA.

Ballyhooing big screen viewing
Myopic eyes watch others exercise
Freedom-hating grouch on a couch
Itching, *******; psoriasis and sloth
Unread armchair Brother of the Cloth.
One of the minions of opinions,
Hardened against morality, reality.
Saying it every day: USA, USA, USA!

Hating, bating, aggravating, skating
Right past solutions, conclusions
Preferring propaganda, ***** Miranda,
Stop mollycoddling, bottling up anger
Christ in the manger should be law
But they guffaw at reading The Book;
They took their religion from TV.
Freedom for me, not thee, in my USA.

Got mine, ***** yours, rights immune;
That tune don’t play here. No queers
No browns, yellows, Hindus or Jews.
I’ve got news you can use, I abuse
And oppress guys in a dress, yes!
Even if he’s white, it still ain’t right.
The Constitution is old, it just teases.
Mine is Republican Jesus for the USA.

A pigeon for old time religion and God
Everyone else is odd. I saw the movie.
It was groovy and pretty. Went to the city
Saw it in Imax, no blacks in the theater
Thanks to The Creator that gave us all
The intelligence to call things right.
Hip hip hooray for being lily white.
Hip hip hooray for the KKK USA.