Dead from 8-4
Fingers sore
Weak core
Faxing war
Still poor
Nothing more

Out the door.

Nowadays the love songs don’t focus on love
Only thing the songs are expressing is ***
And taking the girl back to your house above
All else and then have her leave if the next
Logical point in the song
Everyone jams out to these signing along
Saying these are the next big thing to hit
The radio making the guy be the strong,
Macho type and the damsel throwing a fit
Because of his attitude and complaining
About how love should be and not this
“Why can’t you be like an old song?” feigning
Anger to play hard to get on him but it’s just a diss
She’s laying on him
This is the usual nowadays except for the rare
Few who were raised on the classics actually
Falling in love with her instead of a hit and
Quick and a see ya around but is factually
Never happening again, looking for the band
That sung that sweet melody that touched the
Soul
Now this isn’t me saying I’m a classic Romeo
No not at all babe, I’m just trying to say
I’m looking to make her fall in love
And find a happy ever after in this
World that killed the love songs

smelling like dryer sheets, i stepped out
to a crisp fall morning.

a Southern fall doesn't start until October,
but something was rushing the chill on to us
saying "bundle up now, and cover
those goosebumps"

i haven't heard from you in a week
and i wonder if the Jewish New Year will be good
to me. i
clamber through my day, like
a child's first time at a rock wall.

at the top, i scream to come down
but they told me i had to jump,
so i didn't move

Leaves skitter as shoed feet
fall silently, wind clinging
at clothes in the death
                  of summer.

     A once-verdant echo
          sighs into place
      clouds weigh heavy
            warmth is savored
                  the grasses die
                       instinct stirs.

The world dies
      to be renewed
            in glorious flame,
      changing to stay
the same.

We see ghosts in the eyes of all.
Scarred lives bleed onto screens
as spoon fed masses forget to use the word human.

Do they not bleed red?

We see fear fleeing war zones
while we in our comfort zones
mourn not the lives lost but the cost of the living.

We see children torn from wailing mothers.
Crushed and bloated by the weight of water
tiny bodies wash up lonely, suddenly silent
now mascots for a cause they did not choose.

Inaction is the thief of humanity.
Greed, it's protector, smiles down on the dying.
There but for the grace of God...

let's sit and be nothing, do nothing,
in the silence and murmur of the flowers
while the breeze holds and hugs those who sit alone
and let our hearts move with this wind.