My inflection changed,
"Oh my God"
To "Oh," "My God,"
My sweet God.

the disagreement palpable
gotta seriously disagree
the reversal is the course proper
*** backwards you are, right back at ya
forward forward, never confuse what’s past infused
never go back to old, it’s a dead weight carrying
the past is now a pretense, what we saw, believed and wrote
shuck that mao shirt, those cowboy boots, older vista visions,
the capsule you saw gone immediately to forward the blessing
get some slim jeans, fancy sneakers, a new way of seeing seeking

then the music muse interferes interfaces!

There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,
And my spirit is crying for leaving.
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,
And the voices of those who stand looking.

Ooh, it makes me wonder,
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.

And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune,
Then the piper will lead us to reason.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long,
And the forests will echo with laughter.

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May queen.
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on.
And it makes me wonder.

“Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know,
The piper's calling you to join him,
Dear,  can you hear the wind blow, and did you know
Your stairway lies on the whispering wind?”

*exactly

Left-handed, a lefty, the other arm.
It is forgotten because it’s weaker.
The other, extra, the one with no charm.
If it were a woman, none would seek her.

The sinister and the clumsy left hand.
Derogated abnormality.
Like an afterthought that was never planned.
Its only benefit is symmetry.

At least I could have been ambidextrous.
Then I’d be capable on either side.
I want perfection, not a little less.
This left hand is a source of wounded pride.

When can the useless ever find their place?
This dangling vestige had made me bereft.
But then I found that someone to embrace,
And I saw the potential I had left.

I fight my own battles,
My pride is my own.

Out my kitchen window*
I see the barrier surrounding my backyard.
And the backyard after that.
And the one after that.
And the one after that.
And so on...
Wanting to keep people out.
Guarding our things
and guarding ourselves.


I see your barrier.
It's made of the thickest stone.
There are barely any cracks or breaks
just signs that someone tried to get inside
and holes patched
from their effort.

I wish I could make all the hurt go away.
I wish I could provide the comfort you need.
I wish I could tear down that stone divider.
I wish I could shatter your wall.

I stand at your barricade
my hands placed on the cold, thick stone.
Projecting all my love and warmth into the tips of my fingers.

I want nothing more
than to rummage through this rubble
so that I can find you
and hold you.

"Are you left handed?"
          I'm writing with it, aren't I?

"Oh my god, how do you do that?"
          The same way you write with your right hand.

"You must be super creative."
          Yeah, sure.

"Your hand writing is pretty good for being left handed."
          It still smears.

Painfully watching people attempt to write left handed.

Good luck writing in ink! Even worse than pencil.

Emotions rule my soul
and Sometimes its like a curse
being stuck down here on earth

yearning to feel loved
craving that acceptance
never fitting anywhere
I always was a lefty

there are few out there like me
but I have yet to meet any
society has demoralized them
but they believe themselves liberated

I've searched cracks and crevices
but only found dust
I have dug ditches and hole
but I have found nothing but gold

In a world full of greed
I have a beating heart
So I search for something more
But its mostly frozen over

I may have found one though
A soul pure but misled
Whose warmth could melt the world
and save us from our death.