If you're in a store,
What would you buy?
A rock with rough texture,
And sharp jagged edges,
Or a beautiful stone,
Smoothed in a grinder,
Polished to perfection to have a nice finish?

Most would choose the second.
Same for you I assume.
This holds true for us humans.
You know I am right.
Society is the customer,
And life is the grinder.
And that nice polished finish?
That's words, you do know.
Sweet, honeyed words,
And usually lies,
Are what give you that beautiful finish, you'll find.

When we are young,
We have sharp jagged edges.
None are the same.
We're all very different.
So they run you through life.
That'll smooth you right out.
You'll learn to use words,
So society will buy.

Drivin’ with the kids in tow
Windows down, nowhere to go
Hands outside, feel wind blow
On country roads, fields passin’ slow.

Saw a hayrack sittin’ by a fence
“Rocks for Sale – Fifty Cents”
Thought I, it makes no earthly sense
To demand for rocks some recompense.

But the sign - unique enough to hail
(I protested - but to no avail)
The missus and the kids prevailed
A sale you see, is still a sale!

Before day and feelings I did mar
Realizing for the course it’s par
I turned around and stopped the car
It’s what I’ve become, and whom we are .

To the rack and rocks the kids did sprint
I got closer, had to squint
So I could read the finer print
Kids might have seen, but care they din’t.

Said the bigger rocks did cost a buck
I knew then that I was out of luck
Between a hard place and a rock I’m stuck
‘Twas bait and switch, and smelled like muck.

But the kids had picked from rocks galore
Put them in the trunk to store
The rack was less some rocks times four
And the coffee can had four bucks more!
PwL  5/16/15

My My
This is my house
Where is yours?
My My
You ca see it from San fransico
See you see me
My My
I am dee you are do
I am mean you are too
My My
See you soon

A little weakness I can stand
A small tear
A soft cry
A reaching hand to steady shaky knees and tired feet
I can be a rock
But you must know
Sorrow like the sea
Will weather me away
And I will not let myself be broken
Not even for you

I feel like there is rocks in my aorta
There is sediment blocking my capillaries
There is pebbles filling my lungs
There is sand irritating my eyes
There is gravel eroding up my esophagus
There is a landslide coming out of my mouth
There is an earthquake rattling my stomach
There is a boulder weighing down my mind
There is a hole in me no mountain can fill

If rocks could fall like water
Then we would all be far less bruised
As our stones, our burdens, would roll off
Or else absorb into our skin
If only to be processed out again
We would not carry the visible marks
Of an unkind world
And would stay outwardly placid
And inwardly concealed  
But perhaps then the danger would lie
In the poisoning of our skin
As we absorb the lies and pain
Perhaps while we would cease
To present our story
Our nightmares would appear through touch
As our skin would become toxic from pain
And would burn all it contacted
And so easy it would be then
To isolate in desolate corners
So we could not be harmed --
So we could do no harm

-.-.-

So much better it is
To be to be bruised
Rather than to be alone

I went about my day
with my intestines and stomach
so tight
I had swallowed rocks
boulders
exhausted
shaking
nauseous
went home early
there was no way I could function
so I used the rocks
to drown myself
in a bottle

There is that pretty Rock Of Suicide                                                                          That is located behind our eyes and                                                                            Behind our ears in this world ...                                                                                    Behind mountains and those plains ,                                                                           There are unseen and invisible worlds                                                                             We always keep them in our minds ...                                                                        From that side , where that Rock Of                                                                                 Suicide is located , we can see only                                                                                  A few chains of mountains that overlook                                                                        On many directions here and there ....                                                                        We only guess that there are things                                                                              Bewilder us with their invisible sights ...                                                                       We love to see all kinds of hard rocks                                                                           In all directions and in the opposite                                                                              Directions anytime,anywhere,and                                                                                Everywhere on the surface of our planet ...

You are
The whispering of the sea
Crashing anger at violent shores-
Lapping lovingly at lonely rocks.

You are
The affectionate bite,
And pressed tooth on lip. A brutish
But gentle expression of passion.

You are
The soft murmur of uncertainty,
Rustling against soft skin-
A (lost) exhale of heaving breath.

*Your skin and flesh and bones
Are I think not made of
All the same stuff as mine.

   You are water; you're iron;
   You are whistling wind.
   You're the purest sin
   In which I've ever sunk.