The boy could run
but he couldn't walk
Had no time to think
No room to talk
Passed by more people
than he ever helped
Never knew anything
except for what he felt
But one thing good
we can say about the man
is that he's long gone now
and, here, we all stand

"Just keep your love about you."
said the kettle to the ***.
"What you have, you have to give
and charity is all you've got."
"And keep yourself together."
said the kettle to the cup.
"Some day soon you'll find a spoon
that stirs your spirit up."

I could describe
everything about you
having never met you -
recite your words
like a Silverstein poem,
sketch every
imperfection, and
feel every embrace.

So believe me
when I say you're
the one I've always
wanted and that
I loved you before
I knew you.

I think about you
from time to time,
admittedly more
often than not -
Making frail attempts
to sweep my thoughts
passed the place where
you carved a spot

Red lights ahead
Road ending abrupt
I'm kicking rocks
to keep from looking up
Just making my way
down the familiar street
as a quiet earth rolls
beneath my feet

Genuine like a child
Candid like an open book
Exotic like The Wild
Reassuring like a second look

Snow accumulates
on foggy fire-lit windows
just before midnight
---
A tired fire dances
across the old wooden walls
while the children sleep

Who would know the struggle?
The apocalyptic rubble
So sick I'm seeing double
and I haven't had a drink.

Jarred by nightly terror
Scarred by trial and error
Acting on impulse because
I'm too afraid to think.

Let my mind be
small and sure
as opposed to
large and weak.
And my intentions
right and pure
before I ever begin
to speak..
Lust of power
makes for a busy head
and hunger that
is never fed.  
Be still and trust
Be small and pray
And put those
childish things away

A sheet of ice from the winter freeze,
Candle-lit windows, haunting trees,
Branches dancing in the subtle breeze.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

A distant light from the radio tower
Blinks on time in the late-night hour.
A star-scattered sky so still and sweet.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Redlights ahead, road ending abrupt
Kicking rocks to keep from looking up.
Avoiding cracks in the cold concrete
as a quiet earth rolls beneath my feet

A man staggers in the streetlight glow.
He smiles because he knows that I know.
I nod and gaze down the familiar street
as a quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

Down by the oak trees and old ball park,
The hillside hidden by the dense dark,
I hear the rushing sound of Town Hill Creek.
A quiet earth rolls beneath my feet.

My sail to the
winter winds, I roam,
till I find what feels
like coming home

The warmth is worn  
from my memories
Just as it were from
my restless feet

And I'm afraid
to think of anything
but the cracks
in the cold concrete..

Still, I chase the
winter breeze on passed
the candlelit windows
and snow-capped trees.

And, my sail to the
winter winds, I roam,
till I find what feels
like coming home.

You can tell me
it'll never rain,  
but it won't keep
the rain from pouring..
or doubt the wings
while a mocking bird
sings, but it won't keep
the bird from soaring..

You can doubt the
sun on a cloudy day
And, from the sea,
maybe doubt the dunes
Or tell me there's
no God in heaven
Who heals my
internal wounds.

You can doubt the fate
of an injured deer
right up till you
see him prancing
And you can tell me
that I'll never walk
but you'll never keep
my feet from dancing

The sky grey and gloomy
contrasted with subtle ease
the trembling damp branches
of fire-colored maple leaves
As if the mountain were ablaze -
contained by the gentle mist
It was all held securely
Still the stillness, I resist

What is it that
I'm afraid of?
And what reason
do I have to doubt?
As if the One who
tames the fires
would ever leave me
here without
Can't the fires of
of a failing mind
be tamed by
the Autumn mist?
So why do I burn with
such remorse
clinching worn
memories in my fist?

Go to sleep, dear child
It all fades away in the end
There's no way to tame the wild
or grasp for the Autumn wind
Find rest in what is true
when there's nowhere else to go
There's nothing for you to do
and nothing else for you to know

"It's a scam!" I said
before I fled,
as I sacked up all
the lady's bread.
And the *** made out
with all her stuff
having pointed out
the Kettle's bluff..

"Just half a step
too slow", she said
"You don't have to
chase the beat..
Let rhythm oil those
bones", she laughed,
"and flow to
your two left feet.
It's nothing you have
to try to do..
We're all born to dance.
But some of us are
self aware and won't
give ourselves a chance.."

She smiled and put
her hand in mine and
it calmed my busy brain
And the whole night
we spent cheek to cheek  
Dancing in the pouring rain.

.. likes tearing people down
with loose talk and harsh words -
Empathy tossed aside
by the misuse of nouns and verbs.
.. a twisted view of society
just bound to be seen and heard -
Everyone, sit tight
till every harsh word is slurred.
The Queen of the Night Life;
her brokenness - a crown.
Out-spokenness - a sword
that she just loves to swing around.
As for me, I'm just a jester;
my struggle - a comedic scene,
but she’s justified by anger
only entitled to the royal queen

I don't have to know all
the places you've been
Or some love that fizzled
out way back when..
Just hold my hand
in the moonlight glow,
pull me close,
and kiss me slow..

Outside my window,
I hear a lonely dog wail
his tired nightly woes
—
His echoed alarms
interrupt an otherwise
quiet summer night

He cradled pieces
of poetry that
no longer
made much sense

He'd add a word,
here and there
or change some
misused tense

But from metaphors
forgotten to a flow
that slowed to still

the penman died
a lonely death
from all that
moved his quill

Beautiful words
from a dying man -
had he lived and
loved at all

but who will know or
care enough to brace
the penman's fall?

Day after day, I rivel.
Who knows for how long?
Reduced to mere survival
screaming it’s selfish undertone.
Aspiration is long forgotten
If I live, to what avail?
Despair darkens my demeanor
Time and time again, I fail.
Compassion is now contended;
Making less sense than it did before
And those who are offended
break the hinges off my door.
Disappointment - my adornment
as if I’m capable of more..
If only they knew the torment
that is relentless at my core.  
Wisdom only mocks me.
She dances around my doom
singing, “Here lies a foolish boy
who followed freedom to his tomb.”
Now I’m cast to raging seas;
A boat beaten by an angry wave;
unanswered cries like pleas
from crows that cry above my grave.

Tell me, Lord.. can these dry bones live?

Ah, Lord, You know.
But I am left to wonder why
every attempt to be the hero
turns to ashes when I die.
All this foolishness will follow
as I lay down and return to dust
and time is sure to swallow
all these fallacies I trust.

I danced in a ten
percent chance of rain;
not just because it
beat the odds,
but because
it never even
considered them.
It reminded me that
systems and
statistics are
man-made and fallible -
boasting with a
sure tone,
yet still confined
to near fraudulence..

You can tell me
it’s unlikely to rain,  
but it won't
stop it from pouring.
You can tell me
there's no God,
but it won't stop
Him from healing
these festered wounds.
And you can tell me
I'll never walk,
but it won't keep
me from dancing..

Who would know the struggle?
The apocalyptic rubble..
So sick I'm seeing double
and I haven't had a drink.

Jarred by nightly terror
Scarred by trial and error
Acting on impulse because
I'm too afraid to think.

The evening sky
especially beautiful -
Sun rays bursting
through cloudy skies
And still, it was
barely suitable
to reflect from
the bluest eyes

.. likes tearing people down
with loose talk and harsh words -
Empathy tossed aside
by the misuse of nouns and verbs.
.. a twisted view of society
just bound to be seen and heard -
Everyone, listen quietly
till every harsh word is slurred.
The Queen of the Night Life;
her brokenness - a crown.
Out-spokenness - a sword
that she just loves to swing around.
And me, I'm just a jester;
my struggle - a comedic scene,
but she’s justified by anger
only entitled to the royal queen

Snow accumulates
on foggy fire-lit windows
just before midnight
---
A tired fire dances
across the old wooden walls
while the children sleep

A wayward sheep strayed from the fold;
A selfish man whose heart's been sold;
A shell of what I should've been;
Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned.

A restless runner with a story untold;
A drifting dreamer out in the cold;
Lustful eyes that refuse to see;
Subdue me, Lord, that I may be free.

A desperate prayer from a fiery foxhole;
A foolish pursuit of pleasure and gold;
A broken man who dies and dies;
Reprove me, Lord, that I may be wise.

A marred jar in the Potter's mold;
I bit the hand that fed my soul;
I turned away and dug my grave;
Have mercy, Lord, that I may be saved.

I think about you
from time to time,
admittedly more
often than not -
Making frail attempts
to sweep my thoughts
passed the place where
you carved a spot.
I hope you're happy now
and living well
I hope your mind
is quiet and free -
that your safe and warm
and your soul reborn
to be whoever
God calls you to be.

Morning sentiment
Sunlight dancing on the stove
through wavy curtains
---
Freshly made coffee
thickens the homely kitchen
with pure pleasantry

The boy could run
but he couldn't walk
Had no time to think
No room to talk
Passed by more people
than he ever helped
Never knew anything
except for what he felt
But one thing good
we can say about the man
is that he's long gone now
and, here, we all stand

Distant thunder roars
Maple branches surrender
to the gusting wind
---
A busy boy turns
toward the darkening clouds
waiting for the rain

He stumbled to
the edge of town
and fell into the
waters rough -
held all his breath
while going down
till there was none
to come back up

I have letters in my notebook
that I've never read for you,
I wanted you to read them,
but you had better things to do..
I wrote some of them in red ink,
some of them in black,
and some of them are bitter
'cause you'll never take me back
I've got letters in my notebook
that you'll never want to read
but bitter tears that stained them are all the love I'll ever need..
There's more to life than loneliness,
more to love than who you've lost,
more to hope than disappointment
because a blurry line's been crossed.
I wrote you one more letter -
one you'll never have to read
It reads, "The purest kind of love
is the love you give and don't receive."

If I could only
grasp the wind,
perhaps I'd know
how freedom feels..
And to find it
once again
would take the blisters
off my heels..
For now, I'm lonely -
scratchin' skin
beneath the rags of
where I've been..
Tiptoeing around
a broken mind -
afraid of falling in..

If I could only catch
my breath, perhaps
I'd make my
way back home
And if I could find
you waiting there,
then I'd never
have to roam
For now, I'm tired,
but I keep walking
in search of what
I left behind -
hoping it didn't die
somewhere inside  
my broken mind

The sky grey and gloomy
contrasted with subtle ease
the trembling damp branches
of fire-colored maple leaves
As if the mountain were ablaze -
contained by the gentle mist
It was all held securely
Still the stillness, I resist

What is it that
I'm afraid of?
And what reason
do I have to doubt?
As if the One who
tames the fires
would ever leave me
here without
Can't the fires of
of a failing mind
be tamed by
the Autumn mist?
So why do I burn with
such remorse
clinching worn
memories in my fist?

Go to sleep, dear child
It all fades away in the end
There's no way to tame the wild
or grasp for the Autumn wind
Find rest in what is true
when there's nowhere else to go
There's nothing for you to do
and nothing else for you to know.

Cold winds rustle through
the Sleepy Town oaks
The whirling whispers
louder than the
Sleepy Town blokes
Candles in the windows -
the Sleepy Town hoax
for the town is long deserted
by the Sleepy Town folks
The echo of former laughter
from the Sleepy Town jokes
The Autumn fog appears as if
The Sleepy Town smokes
Rain recalls the memory,
as the Sleepy Town soaks,
of livelihood long forgotten
by those Sleepy Town folks..

"Just half a step
too slow", she said
"You don't have to
chase the beat..
Let rhythm oil those
bones", she laughed,
"and flow to
your two left feet.
It's nothing you have
to try to do..
We're all born to dance.
But some of us are
self aware and won't
give ourselves a chance.."

She smiled and put
her hand in mine and
it calmed my busy brain
And the whole night
we spent cheek to cheek  
Dancing in the pouring rain.

I kept running
through the wilderness,
day after desperate day,
Sometimes I saw
the scenery -
Most times I
was too afraid
Sometimes I felt loved
but then I cringed and
it flew away
But mostly I kept running
day after desperate day

I kept running through
the wilderness,
On passed the concrete grid -
into foreign lands
where no one knew the
things I did
If anyone ever misses me
I'm right here for them to find
In the wilderness just a mile
or two outside my stable mind

No strength to be assertive
on the city street,
No way to pull the curtain
when he goes to sleep
No way to know for certain
He'll have food to eat.
No comfort for the hurtin'
blisters on his feet.

Who can know the burden
of the man who lost it all?
Or the sharp edge of the sword
that sliced before his fall?
Who can pick him up when
he's a nervous wreck?
With his fingers in your face,
you can't remove his speck

Who can give him any hope?
he thinks he knows it all
Who can reach a restless man
when he builds his wall?

Like soothing a bawling baby
crying louder than you can speak
Traumatized by anticipation
because his faith is weak
He wants it all or nothing
Such a restless and hungry man
Overcome with shame and fear
of what he'll never understand.

Faith really does
move mountains..
Jesus Christ really is King.
And the road that leads to
heaven really is paved in
hard suffering..
In all our search for knowledge
Some of us pass by
this simple truth:
that abiding is much more
the wiser than roaming
in some foolish pursuit..
We really were marred
by arrogance,
But Christ really did
come to restore..
His word isn't written
in the soft sinking sand,
but in stone forever more..
He really does call "whosoever"
And many really do turn away
But He really did come to seek
that which was lost
and bid them all to stay..
This world really is fading..
From the mountains to our
flesh and bone..
but for the abiding soul
that cannot be moved,
an open door beckons
them home..

We put our
problems in a bottle,
sank it and
said a prayer..
then hammered
down the throttle
and threw our hands
to the open air..
The evening sky
especially beautiful -
It's sun bursting
through cloudy skies
And still, it was
barely suitable
to reflect those
bluest eyes..
Then we tore through
sparkling water -
Blonde curls dancin'
in the summer wind
Just a worn out dad
and his daughter
who might not come
this way again..
But today the water
welcomes us..
promising to drown
our sorrow..
And perhaps,
the Good Lord helpin' us,
we'll do it all
again tomorrow..

If I have to be psychotic,
Let it bring no harm to anyone..
fill my mind with hues of colors;
not the pressure of passing time.
If I'm convinced of any lies,
let it be "this world is just fine"
I'll bid farewell to sanity and
let the colors fill my mind..

I guess it doesn't matter now..
All the tears I've ever cried..
Or all the times I lost my mind
when pieces of me would die.
But I just kept clinging as my
world came crashing down..
hugging your memory tighter
when I heard the crashing sound..
But I guess it doesn't matter now..
You're long gone and I'm alone -
my guts burning with torment
writing this poetry on my phone..
And who will ever cry for me
when you have better things to do?
The little girl who cries for boys
has long been gone from you..

Somewhere in the sands of time,
I hear the sound of a faithful cry..
from a bird with broken wings
who sings "my hope will never die!"..
His chances are less than average.
He's a candle in a hurricane.
Still he bows beaneath the storm
and he sings louder amidst the rain.
He knows what he'd become
if it were not for his broken wings..
He'd probably make a nest of thorns
and fill it up with shining things.
He might say "I'll sing tomorrow" -
But tomorrow might never come..
And the only awful song would be
a song that he never sung.
And what would he become
when his soul no longer sings?
So, he sings his songs of gratitude
all the more with his broken wings..

Guards led him to a one-man slam
down a cold concrete, narrow hall..
He checked the sink, threw down his mat,
and scratched "endure it" on the wall..
Between the bitterness of insanity,
he heard a faint whisper in the silence
saying, "what doesn't **** you, heals you"
and that's even true with violence..
He wore a broken heart like black eyes,
you could see it in how he'd walk
with his lowly, desperate demeanor,
looking away every time he'd talk..
He wore every label people gave him,
ignoring that inner voice pleading
saying, "scars are only ugly to those
whose wounds are still bleeding.."
He sang songs to protect his sanity..
hoping it would drown the voices
heard from loved ones in his nightmares
reminding him of his bad choices..
No one really cared to listen..
He was so desperate, he didn't care
for the only love he had, he knew,
was the love that he had to share.  
Loving God means loving people..
Twist it up however you want to,
but there's always hope in hardship
for everything you've ever gone through,
but you have to listen to the whisper -
Not the voices screaming in your head..
My heart cries for the closed mouths
of the hearts that are never fed..
Confess it all and let Him heal you..
Cry out to the One True Savior
The One who can heal the inside
changing natures of those behaviors..
I'm telling you, He'll listen..
He'll give you hope that He keeps secure..
And for the all the storms he don't rebuke,
He gives you strength that you may endure.