Prince Charming farts!
It’s a little known fact.
He’s a human after all,
No matter how he acts.
His poise may be excellent
His skin as smooth as gossamer
He will retain his calm
Even if he views a massacre.

Image, to the prince, is everything
He really doesn’t care for truth.
He has refined every gesture
Every moment since his youth.

Prince Charming belches!
But he’s careful with his breath.
To be seen as rude or low class
He feels is worse than death.
You must live up to his standards
Not be déclassé or dense
If you with to enjoy the company
Of the oh so charming prince.

Image, to the prince, is everything
He knows just who to please.
Even whiffs of pepper will not
Make Prince Charming sneeze.

But of course the troubles
Of those not in his class,
No matter how much they cry,
He’ll give them a royal pass.
Because his time is valuable
Where lesser souls are not.
You got to spend time with him.
Be glad for what you’ve got.

Prince Charming is a paragon
As everyone can plainly see.
All must bask in his magnificence
And of course, so does he.

I find that certain evasive
nobility missing in her character

She is a well polished diamond
that can never shine;
Abundant confidence, so little material

Wait, wait, wait you'll say
She'll wait wait
Then she'll fall in the end

Jerry Singing at his Lathe

Slim and mustached
Jerry sang his heart out
in overalls at his lathe –
the Mario Lanza of Kent-Moore Tools.

Curled metal gathered at his feet
as he cut hard steel into usable parts.
He glanced at the prints,
reset the turret to take a second pass
and belted out another chorus.

Jerry retro-dreamed of New York,
of lessons, certificates, Juilliard
and arias finished with outstretched arms –
visions derailed but unforgotten.

Global madness sent him to France.
With a pack and an M1 in place of scores.
Jerry helped set Paris free
yet never left a song on its stages.

Kent-Moore paid him well
and masked by din of colliding metal
Jerry sang and sang and sang all day
for rivet guns and turret lathes.
His voice would melt your heart.

*July, 2006

Just close your eyes, for only then will you be able to see
remove yourself from the limitations, true belief is the key
you must search for that which can see, but cannot be seen
but know that it exists within you, this, your spiritual screen

Perhaps we call it the soul, unhindered by physical limitations
helping us throughout life, despite preconceived expectations
yet few really wish to explore, this hidden truth residing within
perhaps afraid past indiscretions may surface, memories of sin

Yet we really owe it to ourselves, finding this true good is what we all seek
but without looking in the right place, our mood will forever remain bleak
we must escape the lies the world feeds us, only then will our journey begin
no longer seeking answers, because we'll find them hidden in our hearts within

So the only remaining hurdle we must overcome, is this fear of the unknown
but it seems in our ignorance, too often we think it resides in the twilight zone
then know that this world is but a reflection, imagination lacking clarification, and see
that this is why, more often than not, differences in this world are measured by degree

Guided by this light within, we can never go too far away from our true source of life
only then will we have the power to walk that divine path, by collectively avoiding strife
internal insights, as human beings, in His Image we've been created, we're part of the divine
that means we have the power, world redemption is close at hand, we need only read the Sign

All I ever learned
of nobility I learned from
my first Newfoundland

Just look at her!
She's so radiant and flawless!
Her footsteps leave marks of perfection
She walks with confidence
She's not afraid to walk with her head *****,earning all mans respect
She's not afraid to breathe because this air is her own!
Her smile is so contagious
She makes it look so effortless!
Something most people couldn't do for years she does on a daily basis!

Little do they know that she leaves behind a morbid home.
A place where her heart is unknown.
Where punches get thrown like dice
Where she walks on thin ice!
Where her tears put her to sleep
Where she prays to God and gives Him her soul to keep.

But before she goes out into the world she masks her face with the ashes of her soul.
Because she's perished on the inside
And flaunts whatever is left of her tarnished soul.
She approaches the world forgetting about her pain
But still holds on to the thought that each day she sees might be her last.
So she smiles
Yes
That woman with the smile on her face.

I make a lot of enemies without intending,
They outnumber me greatly with their size
but they cannot withstand the wrath of fury;
I come ****** but unbowed to these wimps

Hence, they unleash a band of Anthropophagus
Well, I have the ***** to slain these monsters
The sight of them is infuriating, less frightening
I gave them something to mourn - I have to

Again, I walked away from the battle unbowed
Because I have what it takes to **** a mockingbird
But, it didn't make me feel better or worse
I have to put up with them and their excesses

Now, you will understand why I never turn to see
who stab me in the back - it's not worth turning

Grand old mountain,
Bearded in cloud  .  .  .
Rushmore to the Gods.