She doesn't speak
When she moves her eyes
She won't give me
Any alibis

She tells me
She doesn't have a tale to tell
But I know her
And it's just as well

One day I'll say the right thing
And she will let me in
And then she will tell me
Where she has been

In the time of seriously
I went blind totally
I lost sight of things I should have seen
I wonder if you'll know you know what I mean
I sat I was still I took no action
Doing so little that was my infraction
And now she is gone I will see her no more
Now I simply wait while the tears from my eyes pour.

I listen to music sit here and write
Something that I can do all friggin night
Who though wants to hear the words of a once sea worthy man
The way that I'm living now wasn't really my plan
It seems I'm caught in the past now I can't break away
No matter if I Bang my head and rage all friggin day
The darkness has long been my friend
There are those nights that come I pray soon will end
Even when I want it to stay
the Sun comes up and drives it away
Because there are those dreams from which I do not want to escape
I wish I could record them and replay them on tape
Then a cap comes along and breaks my train of thought
And I begin to wonder or all my words for naught.

                           M.H.

I sit on the back porch
Just to watch the sunset
And envision the things
That I cannot forget

The loss of my son
When Maisey became my pet
The yoke of the loss
I can't cast off yet

The pain deep down inside
Deep in my core
It's tearing me apart
I am always sore

The time my leg was separated
Into parts 4
The personal attacks on my psyche
Which I abhor

The amnesia
The mind it grows weak
I want to get the words out
While I can still speak

The words they bore in
This thinking of death
The panting the sweating
The shortness of breath

The early morning dreams
Even the ones that I miss
Every time that I think
Of that last cherished childish kiss

The depression
That causes that flash in your skull
Or just feeling listless
Wrung out, dull

All this in one package
How can that be
Well they gave it a name
It's called P.T.S.D.

                            M.H.

My old man wanted to ring the bell
Every time he thought about it his chest would swell
You see the bell had to be rung on time
Time was the one thing my old man couldn't tell.
                           M.H.

My old man was born to fly
So he thought he'd try writing in the sky
Unfortunately that didn't work out so well
Mostly because my old man can't spell

                           M.H.

She bent over then
She did so in middle street
Why did she bend then

                           M.H.