In the beginning when He created you and me
He only wanted us to always be happy
to have amazing fun, and relationships that last
not to have sins that we're escaping from our past

everything was good when He made it at the start
except for one thing, and that's a lonely heart
when it was all still perfect, nothing had gone bad
He created companionship, so our hearts would not be sad

All the lies you hear, that you are not enough
when things don't go your way, and life is kinda rough
you think He doesn't love you, that He doesn't care
you question whether or not He's even really there

You think you're being punished for everything you've done
but that's the very reason that He sent His only son
if you just accept you're loved, and go about your life
giving love to others, without fear of pain or strife

let God fill you up, then let those walls come down
don't protect yourself with walls built all around
open up your heart, and let them all come in
that will give you victory, that is how you win

the battle of the lonely heart, a paradox at best
push away, but long for love, just like all the rest
we're all in this together, if we could only see
reach out and love today, help change this world with me

I dreamt about a poem
Covered in cotton sheets,
Hanging from a clothes line.
And the air stirs,
The clouds pass by
Whispering somber utterances -
Words not meant for man.

And I walked out in frustration
From my bedroom morning light
Down the backyard porch steps
Into the wind
And said nothing.
I said nothing to the shadows.
Spoke not a word to the clouds.

Alone and forgotten
Waiting for the words to dry.

how many times
do I have to unbutton your pants
to hear the words
"I love you."

Being easily agitated
by those on the other teams side.
Is a sure symptom of living a lie.
I can see clearly on everybody’s side and no side at all.

Hallelujah from the heart of Leonard Cohen
just took Leonard and his old scratchy voice
into my heart. What a gift my music app
just slung into my afternoon
to wake me from my late afternoon fatigue.

I do not take these tech gifts for granted
remembering when I would have to get the LP album
from off the crammed shelf and play it on a turntable.

Here in a moment of peace
I look up and see the trees
and the neighbor’s garden
beyond my windows.

And I thank God for this lovely peaceful moment
thank my old piano teacher
and the conductor of the Houston Youth Symphony
where I sang before my voice changed
and my parents who carpooled me from our suburb
to the old auditorium downtown
where my young mind and soul were nourished
by adults who cared for our young minds and voices.

Who knew that the gifts of these people
would spring up in my mind eight decades later
and mental images of Leopold Stokowski who directed us
at a grand concert in the Houston Music Hall.
He loved children but delivered high pitched hell
to the symphony players at rehearsals.

Before I woke this morning
this title was peeking through the cobwebs,
eventually waking me before dawn.

Now with Bernstein’s Grofe Grand Canyon Sunrise
is playing before first light, violins barely audible,
mules waking up with their weird wail
ready to hit the high trail.
Those magnificent odd beasts.

My old body still  dull,
my left hip protesting the early wake,
my brain puzzling with this title
me saddling the mules
for their trudge down the curvey canyon walls,
young adventurers on their old swaying backs.

Here I am looking out over the trees beyond the back yard
into the gray dawn.
I write with the thought of visiting my old friends
on the poetry website,
they probably wondering where I’ve been for the last several months
with  nary a word posted there.

Last night, the Beatles’ White Album played,
those young shaggy heads
awake with popping images
tunes and words tumbling from John and Paul,
they  too, like me, oblivious of where the trail would  lead.

Put me back together.
That’s what the Great Spirit is trying to do
between my synapses
while they still stir up there in the attic
among the dusty old books and broken furniture
and the all but forgotten dreams there
among the silverfish.

Recently Moses was trying to teach me and the new generation
in Deuteronomy
before they crossed the Jordan into the Promised Land.,
his old body still holding on in the mountains
where he would finally be laid to rest.
I  never thought I would get anything from that old book
but Moses had one more old mind to reach.
I am grateful his words were preserved
for me before I too make it up
beyond the top of the mountain
finally put together.