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

She had a
sailor's mouth,
pretty lips,
and lots of flaws
for me to fix.  

And she wore them
all in front of me
like a fur coat
with the collar up.

What a divided people -
like an eagle with wounded wings
lost in a consumer world
chasing shadows of silly things.
The downside of "prosperity"
and we're sliding down fast -
like every other puffed-up
political power in the past.
This is what it looks like to
have entirely too much -
ravaged in the heat of battle
with ghosts we can't see or touch..
Bathing in lavish luxury..
steeped to our necks with waste -
defending sinking sand castles and
casting stones through cyberspace.
The dawn of a new age and
everyone is entitled to an opinion.
Everybody and nobody's wrong,
and many words are ways of winning.
The implosion of a nation,
but it's all the government, right?
No need to blame consumers
fueling fires we claim to fight.
What a divided people -
like an eagle with wounded wings
lost in a consumer world
chasing shadows of worldly things.

With folded arms on my windowsill,
I gaze at a starlit sky so still.
Amidst the awe of wishful wonder,
A question, there, I pose and ponder:
If the autumn moon that gives such light
were the eye of He who gave me sight,
would He not see a sheep asleep
while children die and mother's weep?
And if glimmering stars were angel bands
that laid to waste a wasteful man,
would I not pray that they be blind
to those I've harmed or left behind?

With folded arms on my windowsill,
I saw a tree in the farmer's field
The winter winds had stripped the oak
And, as I believed, I thought and spoke:
If winter winds, in all their might,
lay bare the oaks and fold their height,
then gone would be the leaves of deeds
that hide my thoughts of lust and greed.
And if trees that grow and bear their fruit
were saints that live and speak the truth,
then I would be a withered tree
with bitter fruit and wilted leaves.

The north wind blows to
bend the Sleepy Town oaks
The whirling whispers
louder than the
Sleepy Town folks
Candles in the windows -
the Sleepy Town hoax
for the town is long deserted
by the Sleepy Town blokes
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 liveliness forgotten
by those Sleepy Town folks..

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

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 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.

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.

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

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

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..

"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."

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

Don't you cry when
I'm in the grave
You'll be sad and
I won't hear..
Tell me what's
the matter now..
Tell the truth
and make it clear.

Don't you weep
when I go to sleep
if there's a promise
I've failed to keep.
I'll give to you and
when I'm gone,
just let me sleep
and don't you weep.

I waited for you -
down by the Woodbine
house on Kendrick Avenue.
I must've told myself 
a thousand times
that, when you arrive,
I'd be just fine -
sitting on the stoop
collecting thoughts
like puddles of rain.

Occassionally, a car
would pass, thrashing
through the puddles
slashed interrupting my
hopeful mind with violent
doubt...

I waited for you -
denying every reasonable
thought and holding on
to my childish dreams.

I'm still waiting for you -
Though hope has long
become desperate denial.

I'll wait for you..

Heart heavy and hard as stone
Swore she’d never be alone
Wore the stone around her neck
Made every man a nervous wreck

Dancing in a ten
percent chance of rain;
In part, because it
beat the odds -
More so, because
it never even
considered them.
Perhaps, it was even
in spite of them.
Or maybe it just
reminded me that
systems and
statistics are
man-made and fallible -
boasting with a
self-righteous tone,
yet still confined
to near fraudulence..

Either way..

You can tell me
it won't rain,  
but you 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 you won't keep
me from dancing..

.. 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

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.

If I could only
grasp the wind,
then I would know
how freedom feels -

And if I could
know you once again,
it'd take these
blisters off my heels.

For now, I'm lonely -
scratchin' skin
beneath the rags
of where I've been.

Staying outside
my broken mind -
too afraid
of looking in.

No room for me
in that space you need..
So I fed my disgrace
with percocet and ****.
I've been ripped off before
and still haven't been paid,
but trading love for percocet
is the worst deal I've ever made.

He left a letter on the dresser
addressed to whom it may concern.
It read "Never falter under pressure
before the tides can take their turn.
Everything is dying -
The likes of man and all his pleasure.
From paper planes we're flying
to the wooden chests of treasure.
But one Truth will always stand
long after the last word here is spoken:
There's always been a heavenly hand
to heal the heart that's broken."

I've got 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,
and some of them in black.
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 these 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 says, "The purest kind of love
is the love you give and don't receive."

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?

.. 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

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..

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

What I wanted to say
remains confined inside
a bitter heart broken
by what could've been -
held captive by a mere
mention of the weather.

There was no good ending.
No "happily ever after".
No redemption in our story.
We were just a childish love
driven by infatuation.

What we called "love" was
carried away by the
butterflies in our bellies.
What we called our "future"
has faded with all the
pleasant memories of us-
And now it's like it never
happened.. it was all
fabricated and fantasized
like the words I wanted to say.

Dodging peopled places
and their stabbing stares;
bleeding fear and self hatred-
no one seems to care..

I bite my lip a little more
in every public place
hoping I can make it out alive
before they see my face.
I wasn’t always self-aware-
at least, not to the extent
of holding ransom every word
until I validate intent..

Who are you?..
Have you lost your mind?
No one believes you anymore
when you say "I'll be fine."
Afraid of looking in the mirror;
I’m just not the man I know.
Somehow, it seems I’ve traded
faces with my fiercest foe.

Who are you?
Have you been here before?
Just a couple thousand times-
perhaps a thousand more..
I want to run away-  
just as fast as I can run
from everything I've known or felt -
the broken man I have become.

Where will you go?
What will you do?
You can run away from them,
but you can't run from you..

Dodging peopled places
and their stabbing stares;
bleeding fear and self-hatred-
no one seems to care..

Worn-out photos lay
Scattered and without substance
Nagging memories
----
A half-hour till dawn
My wounded heart still bleeding
Stale remorse and tears

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.

Now it's all an echo that
haunts my hollow heart
drowned by harsh words
spoken when it fell apart.
"I love you, babe", you said
and, then, I was so sure
that come hell or high water
love would always endure.
Now it's all gone..
Faded by foolish pride
Locked inside a memory
that haunts me day and night.  
But, inside, I still whisper
when I want to feel your touch
"You're my only person, babe,
and I love you soooo much."

.. 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

And just like that, it's over -
like it didn't even happen.
Traded the rest of his life
for a half a gram - went out
noddin' like he was nappin'..
My heart cries for the family,
Aaron, I miss you, fam.
And, if I could, you know I'd
buy you back for that half a gram.

Just like that, gone forever..
Like he was never here,
a sudden change of weather
we often see this time of year.
My heart cries for your kid,
I'll never forget you, man.
Why men would rather ****
than build, I'll never understand..

Just like that, forgotten..
The girl had gotten sober
Bought some birthday
presents and ******
and just like that - its over.
My heart cries for your baby
Carrie's never coming back.
I wonder if she wore the
bracelet I gave her when
she faded into black.

Just like that, we're praying..
for God to heal our hurt..
a few words about his life and
then we chunked him in the dirt..
I tried to tell you, Bill David..
That girl would get you killed..
Look to God to do the healing
You just be the one who's healed.

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..

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.

Never mind the
broken heart, my dude..
I guess she wasn't
meant for you.
Just a passerby on
a country road
Who couldn't stay
when passing through..

"Where will you go next?"
The question of the hour..
"Anywhere but here"
he thought, hurt from
all the times they'd fought..
But battles that rage
inside his brain
seem to be the ones
that still remain..

I guess he'll
settle for a friendship,
Tell himself he tried,
and throw his stones
into the ocean till
it decides to change
the tide..
Nothing lasts forever.
At least the things
we take for granted.
We can only hope
the best for any
seeds we've ever planted..

Just chalk it up - a lesson
Sorry I tore it all apart
Hopefully, somehow
its a blessing
Nevermind the
broken h e a r t.

Somewhere in the sands of time,
I hear a faint and faithful cry -
the song of a wingless bird
singin' "love will never die".
But where has he gone now?
That candle in a hurricane.
The bird singing in the storm -
wings beating against the rain.
And what will he become
when his soul no longer sings?
When he makes a nest of thorns
and fills it up with shiny things.
-
He can't say he'll sing tomorrow -
Tomorrow might never come
And the only awful song
is a song that is never sung.

The same people
who told me
I'm only alive
when I'm winning
are the ones who
look for cracks
in my character.

And so I favor the meek -
Not the schemes of
their cold competition.

And the same
people who told
me I couldn't
survive in the
free world are
the ones in whom
my ******* would
prove most
rewarding.  

And so I learn wisdom and
suffering in separation

He staggered to the med-line
and wept bitterly from his soul
for the hope, he feared, he'd
never find to fill that gaping hole.
Somewhere in the sands of time,
a boy plays at his father's feet -
when happiness didn't cost a dime
and he danced to a different beat.
But that was years ago -
the song had ended much too fast.
He refused the meds, walked real
slow, and cradled his playful past.

Gusts of warm wind blow
gracefully through oak branches
Distant thunder roars
-----
A busy boy turns
toward the darkening clouds
waiting for the rain

Stars don’t shine like they used to..
and these visions in my head are horrid..
and the voices are merciless
telling me it’s all my fault and
that I’ll never find real love.
Whatever that is.
But I’ve been here before.
Take care of yourself, darlin.

Just so you know, you left
my soul a little more broken...
my mind a little more
paranoid and untrusting..
lonely and confused.  
There’s no hope in my eyes
or hop in my step.
But I’ve been here before.  
Take care of yourself, darlin.

He staggered to
the med-line
and wept bitterly
from his soul
for the hope,
he feared, he'd
never find to fill
that gaping hole.
Somewhere in the
sands of time,
a boy plays at
his father's feet -
when happiness
didn't cost a dime
and he danced to
a different beat.
But that was
years ago -
the song had ended
much too fast.
He refused the meds,
walked real slow, and
cradled his playful past.

Caught up inside
a storm,
I whispered softly  
into the wind,
"Don't let the
lightening strike
me like it has with
all my friends."
The firstfruits of our
freedom trickled
down from
the oppressor.
I want, so badly,
to make it right,
but I just can't
in this kind of
weather.

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.