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

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..

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

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.

It was right for you to leave,
but you didn't have to
take me with you..

Now I'm cold and alone
and my hands are clammy..
gripping my reasons  
like that bouquet of
Dogwood flowers I clasped
till the pedals fell..

Just as I fell into the same
desperation that plagued
my soul before you came..

I stood atop
a mountain;
beneath was
everything I am.
I grinned when
I felt the wind
and nodded to
my inner man..
No doubt I've
seen some troubles;
crevices etched
in my terrain
from the rushing
roar of rivers
brought by days
of relentless rain,
but these scars,
they tell the stories
of the storms
I've had to weather
and serve as a
reminder that
these storms
don't last forever..

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.

I'm pacing these floors,
shaking my head,
shifting in my bed,,
trying to figure out
what happened..

what happened?

Obsessed and
aggravated.

What happened?

Why is everybody
so **** mad?
And why do I
always talk so slow?

If this autumn moon
that gives such light
were the eye of He who
gave me sight,
then He would see
a sheep asleep
while children die
and mothers weep.  

And, if glimmering stars
were angel bands
that laid to waste
a wasteful man,
then I would pray
that they be blind
to those I've harmed
or left behind.

"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.

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.

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.

.. 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

Remember me, Darlin',
on rainy days -
when boredom breeds
some restless state of mind..
I pray that, after you take
inventory of mindless tasks
and make another attempt
to recall some fresh memory
of your Old Man,
that you remember me,
even for just a moment -
dismissing my error
with a subtle smile
before whispering,
"****.. I hope he's alright."  

That's love..

That's love more than this is.

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.

And if I'll always be psychotic,
let it be no harm to anyone..
Fill my mind with hues of color
and not the pressure of time..
If I'm convinced of any lies,
let it be: this world is fine
I'll bid farewell to sanity
and let the colors fill my mind..

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
when you pull me close
and kiss me slow..

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..

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.

Nevermind your broken heart,
my dear -
He was never sent to care.
Just a passerby on winding road
with a destination not so clear.
A road so hazy you can't see your last step,
"Where will you go next?" -
the question of the hour.
"Anywhere but here",
she begged as she wiped away tears from a broken heart she should've just kept.
Kept far away from anyone to misuse,
She's broken again like a shattered mirror.
Thoughts of why she's never enough,
Why she always has to lose.

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, the road ending abrupt
Kicking rocks to keep from looking up.
Cracks in my soul like the cold concrete.
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.

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..

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..

Don't let the dirt of despair
dull your shine, little diamond.
God's been good to you, too.  
Who said it was over?  
Who told you it'd always
be like this?
Who said you're a toxic person?
And how do they know?  
They don't.  
Shake those expectations.
Dance in the rain.
Shine in the dirt.
Do you, diamond.

The wild wonderland
of believed dreams with
good outcomes resting
in the minds of poor kids -
patted down like
little mud cakes and shaped in
old pans on culled lumber porches.

Who's ever gonna fix that rail?
No one.

Kids are busy baking cakes
and the older folks couldn't
care less..

Only those in the middle
are blinded by conformity
and set on edge by competition..

But, in this light, who couldn't surrender their darkness
of cold competition to the light and warmth of these lads?

Who wouldn't make way
for such a thing to happen?

Little lights of
hope that will only fade
into the sunset of adulthood
in due time...

But not today.

Not for them.

They have cakes to bake.

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.

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

Day 1: not so bad.
Day 2: my body moves without permission.
Day 3: nope.
Day 4: took the bait.
Day 1: massive headache.  
Spat the bait out.
Day 2: not too bad.
Day 3: the toilet seat is so cold.
Day 4: Icy hot doesn't work.
Day 1:  kids are cool.

Autumn moon
lighting up the
purple sky -
along with
lesser lights
watching as I
lost my mind.

All the stars
were in her eyes -
every cosmic cluster
glimmering,
dimming,
then falling
in the night.

Constellations
poured across
her pretty face.
Recklessly,
they’d crash -
splashing on
the ground,
then were gone
without a trace.

Her tender hand
consoled the
pieces left of me -
I just knew the
falling stars would
be the death of me.

We're, every one,
just as afraid as the other
Afraid of each other
The only brave souls
are those who confess it
and are least compromised.

Life was easy
when you were
around,
but I was slowly 
sinking d                        
               o                      
               w                    
                n..                
         Now it's hard,  
         but I'm healing.

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

That weapon
of mine you
confront with such
hateful hostility
is the only sword
sharp enough to
pierce your
inattentive armor -
You'd never
acknowledge
my existence
had I not been
swinging it.

And that
drunken bellow -
the only noise
louder than
the pushy,
productive voices
in your head.

Drowning in the white
waters of his own rage,
He stared a vacant
stare that could never
give light - only drink it
like a barren desert
growing desperate
for a few drops of rain.

That kind of stare can
only look inward
toward the stinging
and distorted
memories -
never peering out into
the suger-coated  
sub-reality (the
monotonous practice
of model living) -
his vision obscured by
the traumatic scenes
of a nightmarish movie
playing in repetition -
bearing down on his
consciousness and
becoming all the more
vivid and consequential.

The contrast of her
soft-spokenness seems
to mock him - and so
he rages..

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.

Guess I'll settle
for the knock off,
tell everyone
I tried, and
throw my stones
into this ocean
till it decides to
change the tide.

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."

And so I bought
the lady's medicine
whom I knew would
hurt without,
Then I heard,
from her phone,
some robotic voice
and I knew it
without a doubt.  
"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..