The task, Wear a mask.

Let me be! Land of free!

Get a shot? Toss a lot?

Still a fear, For those dear.

What to do?  Life askew.

Head in sand, Many best plan.

Why this strife? The game of life.

Because so few walked the path
    of climates, master,
So many are fleeing the path
    of climates, disaster.

Though I'm gone, I couldn't stay.
You can bring me back any day,
Meet me in your mind, and
we can play.

I lost you, in the dark of night.
   You said, something no longer right.
I lost you, in the sunlight of day.
   You said, you couldn't go on this way.
I lost you, truly from the very start.
   You said, I unable to give my heart.
I lost you, realizing now what it cost.
   You said, I would feel the loss.

My best play,
   On many a day,
       What, I didn't say.

Unfortunately "Cs" look like an "A",
after the "Fs" have their say.

Dreams, swirl around, like leaves in a breeze.
                        Life, is the ones, we seize.

In "these days" I consider
it luck, if the the movie
I stream doesn't use F-word.

In the "good old days"
I'd get a back hand hit,
if I ever said S-word.

My grandma, would give a,
Biblical slam, if I muttered,
D-word.

Someone's fetching a switch.
if I called, my sister a B-word

Yet in the "old days" I
do recall my black
friend, braying like a
donkey, calling me H-word,
and we would snicker, when
I called him N-word.

Let's go the speed limit, and patiently wait,
  said no one ever, on a U.S. Interstate.

SO MANY HAVE COME BEFORE MY TIME,
           TO THIS KNOWLEDGE, I MUST RESIGN,
                      AN ORIGINAL THOUGHT, WILL NEVER BE MINE.

Have you faced the
  soul crushing reality,
of a time you will no
  longer be.
What the memories
  those left behind
   will see?

Riches and fame,
      seldom the game.
Contentment and pride,
       still a good ride.

AN AWKWARD FIRST KISS, UNDER THE PORCH LIGHT,
THE COMEBACK KISS, REMEMBERED ALL NIGHT.

Loss of a friend,
  a life chapter end.

Oh, to think that it would happen on Christmas Day.  

1. When she opened the ring box, what would she say?

2. I'd be pulling guard duty in a land, far away.

3. The locks have been changed, I have nowhere to stay.

4. I'd actually be riding, in a one horse open sleigh.

5. The snow made a Christmas card out of the bay.

More that's said:
       With fewer words.
More likely:
       Remembered,when heard.

The thoughts, the composition,
  is all Me,
on the take, of my lifespan
   as I see.
Destined to float alone unseen
   in a digital sea,
unless it finds a connection,
   with a We.

THE ETERNAL MIST WHISPERS TO OUR MIND HOW IT WILL BE,

THE RAGING STORM FILLS OUR MIND WITH THAT WE WANT TO SEE.

I Cheer,
     For less Fear,
           In the coming Year.

In "My" dreams, it seems, that I should be saving beautiful princesses, in castles, above a blue lagoon.
Instead of searching everywhere, without my underwear, for a clean bathroom.

Go to school, don't play the fool.
    Before you know it, you may be a poet.

I sleep the nights away, for in my Dreams you still appear.
I weep the days away, for in my Life you're no longer here.

As I begin my poem, holding my pen,
I realize when I finish. I'll be older than I've ever been.

Is this really the best way to spend my time.
Trying to connect to another, with my rhyme.

Perhaps the worst thing that I really do,
is stealing the finite time, that belongs to you.

Oh, the  size of my inflated ego.
To do this insult, to someone, I don't even know.

For this I hope you'll forgive my sin.
For now, you're older than you've ever been.

One young woman, One young man.
She comes down towards him, on her fathers hand.

Two smiles, Two hearts, Two lives to blend.
So happy, So sure, So ready to begin.

He stands tall, The hopeful Young Knight.
She dazzles all, The Princess in White.

Priest in cassock, arms in the air,
Welcomes everyone, to the joyous affair.

A candle is lit, vows are read,
Everyone straining to hear what is said.

Picking hands, they exchange gold rings,
As the ***** plays, and the singer sings.

Together they kneel as prayers are said,
The procession of faithful, for wine and bread.

Then the Priest ask, "For blessings through life"
For this newest of Husbands,and his young Wife.

All the planning, and bustle leading to this,
So quickly over, Sealed with a kiss.

Then they walk to their future, hand held in hand,
One young Woman, One young Man.

One thing, it seems human nature can't abide,
    Believing, it could be on the wrong side.

If you want to write a poem,
         about being angry.
             You need to first get hungry.

A honest belief,
  Can bring relief,
    While causing
       grief.
        May effects,
         be brief.

The feel of sand beneath the toes.
The smell of sea breeze fills the nose.
The sigh of foaming surf soothes the ears.
The heady taste of a few cold beers.
Where the ocean meets the sky,
Oh so easy on the eye.
Leaving everyday troubles behind.
In a paradise state of mind.

It seems, those who complain about the high price of Gas,

Should take more notice, of the vehicles they fly Pass.

BE YOU,
BE TRUE.

The poem that you write, that's such a delight,
         in the middle of the night,
             Seems, to lite, and so less bright,
                             in the daylight.

As I see it, the would
       be poets
           prime mission.
To leave their
         take, on the
             human condition.
Like no two snowflakes,
          in light flurry, or
               blizzard, the same.
No two earth bound
           humans ever played,
                an identical game.
Giving to the future
            our feelings
                 from the past.
Seems a most
             noble, present
                   day task.

Preachers:
  only sow,
    the path,
      they know,
        and how you:
            must go.
Teachers:
   show where
      faiths, and
        knowledge,
          reside,
          and the answer:
               you decide.

Hurried
   Blurried,
     Wide
        Eyed,
          Attraction
            Action,
              Ending
                Sending,
                  Bedding
                    Shedding.

Keep it simple,
   keep it neat.
Make it easy,
     to repeat.
Maybe they,
    won't delete.

I awaken in the dark of night,
     To a stark and chilling sight.
         11:34 reflecting the alarms red light.

From the earth's beginning
of life, and night,
It has been a companion,
to all with sight.

A controller of nature,
and oceans tides.
Showing only one side
the other it hides

Cycling from lighted face,
to smiling away.
It taught humans a span,
longer than a day.

Floating above in white
florescent grace,
A symbol of Romance, and
  a slower pace.

Realizing that everyone,
each and all.
Have looked up with wonder
of earth's reflective ball.

DO YOU REMEMBER THE FEEL:

THE PULL OF THE FISH AGAINST THE REEL.

GETTING THE RIGHT CARD ON THE LAST NIGHTS DEAL.

THE CLANKING ROLLERCOASTER AS IT CREST THE HILL.

WHEN YOU AWAKE AND REALIZE THE NIGHTMARE NOT REAL.

YOU STEP OFF THE CURB AND HEAR TIRES SQUEAL.

YOU FIRST HEARD OF CHRIST SUFFERING UPON THE HILL.

THE CRUMPLING OF PAPER FOR LACK OF SKILL.

Sorry if I haven't commented
  on your poetry, recently.
The refresh, on hepo keeps
  spinning constantly.
Maybe time, for a new
   tablet, for me.

I think That I shall never see,
               a book of poetry,
                     That didn't **** a tree.

Don't use a whale,
           to tell,
     a minnows, tale.

Leaving the forest in an enlightened mood,

A hemlock root did intrude.

Sending me crashing upon my knee.

And the crow flew away mocking me.

Why did I always have a fold
        In my Mad magazine?
Because Al's irreverent art work
        just had to be seen.

Doctors and lasers, have
    returned to my sight,
A vision of my world,
    so focused and bright.
Oh how, I wish that
    they could find.
Something that worked
     as well, with my mind.

Pen is moving, anxious to start.
   Will it translate what's in the heart?
Ink is now, beginning it's flow.
   Staining the paper, with what comes from the soul.
Lines change into letters, forming the words.
   Will they be the ones, that want to be heard?
Sentences follows sentence, after a time,
    are they conveying, what was held in the mind?
With the final period, laying down the pen.
    Till the need arises, to begin, again.

Jimmy, was the Worlds,
      Great Gimmy.

Sometimes from the pen the words must flow,
   and I must simply let them go.
Hoping only that they shine,
   more than the blank paper they left behind.

No matter how much
     the body needs it sleep,
It's impossible when the brain,
       needs to speak.

When the power goes out,
     there is no doubt.
How dependent, we be,
     on our electricity.

Take the language of humanity,
    Choose the words that Sing, to Thee.
Arrange with the precision of universal time.
   Write them down in perfect composition, and rhyme.
Leave us mortals, one and all,
    Envious, and filled with awe.
                 Speak to me,
                         Speak to me
                                    In poetry.