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Herb Jul 2019
A telephone booth
On a deserted corner
Rings incessantly
Herb Jul 2019
It's the Fourth of July
I stand in my back yard
Night has closed in
Lights blaze across the sky
The concussion
The smell of sulphur
It's quite dazzling

But what really catches my eye
Are the fireflys
As they flash their tiny lights

We humans work so hard to make our presence known
While the World around us simply...
Herb Jun 2019
In the beginning...
God created the heavens and the earth.

But, who's GOD was he?

The God of Moses?
The God of Paul?
The God of Mohammed?

The God of Some?
The God of Many?
The God of All?

The God of You?
The God of Us?
The God of Them?

The God of Love?
The God of Vengeance?
The God of Tradition?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Who is this God that we all know?
Who whispers in our ear?
But his secrets, will not share
So his plans remain unclear

All we can do is wonder
All we can do is wait
All we can do is hope
That his blessing will be our fate

When the "roll is called up yonder"
Will he invite us to his table?
Will he approve the lives we led
Or find us false...  and unable

Does he find it gratifying?
That we try to make him our own
Instead of listening to his creation
To learn all that can be known
Herb Jun 2019
I'm climbing a wall
And scraping my knee
Tearing my clothes
My fingers bleed
The pain of exertion
There's always one more
To scale and to master
An unending chore
Walls made of brick
Concrete and steel
Walls made of people
And wounds that won't heal
I conquer the next
Then see out ahead
Wall after wall
They fill me with dread

Walls keep me out
Walls keep me in
Walls make me stop
And start over again
Walls are so high
Walls are so wide
Blocking my view
Of the other side

Should I go forward?
Should I stop here?
Quit climbing walls
And give in to fear
Or climb just one more?
To see what I find
Show force of will
And resolution of mind

If I climb one more wall
I'll be that much stronger
And perhaps win the hope
To last that much longer
This poem was written long before the Trump Era...  back when walls were realistic metaphors...  not political agendas.
Herb Jun 2019
Someone's knocking at my door
They're calling out to me
But I don't know who they are
Are they friend...  or enemy?
Are they here to make me happy?
Are they here to tip my boat?
Are they here to take me captive?
Or just trying to win my vote?

My door is shut, and locked
I've a second to reflect
A second to respond
With courage... or neglect

Yes, there could be danger
If I open up my door
If I open up my soul
To what could be in store

Chances are, it can be good
But life is only chances
I can be hopeful, helpful, and free
Or a person that Death romances


Who's there?
Love who?
Love Whoever Comes To Your Door.
Herb Jun 2019
Arrogant peacock
Preen your feathers you proud fowl
You'll be molting soon

He is in a rush
Clear his way, don't interfere
He might fall on you

Windswept heights above
Snowy peaks of grey granite
Majesty erodes

One, Two, Three, Four, Five
Any number will do fine
Because I can't count
Herb Jun 2019
cruising the highway
in a car out of control
gas tank on EMPTY
but the tires still roll
bugs on the windshield
bleary eyes behind the wheel
looking hard for something
to beg, borrow, or steal

what road is this?
where does it go?
i just passed a sign
it read, I DON'T KNOW

it must lead somewhere
is SOMEWHERE a place?
if SOMEWHERE is there
i'll stay in this race

but if all i'm doing
is throwing up dust
perhaps i'll pull over
rethink, and adjust

if i'm just wasting fuel
on a road without end
i could just turn around...
and start over again
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