A monster came out from under my bed,
all hairy and ugly and oh so red.
He ran to my closet and ate all my clothes
then back to my bed he was tickling my toes.
I was so afraid he might suddenly eat me,
There was nowhere to go where he couldn’t see.
He threw all my toys in a great big sack
And told me meanly they’d never be back.
Then he looked at my desk and suddenly smiled
And seemed to be happy or maybe beguiled.
He looked in my eyes and pointed at me,
“give me your laptop and I will let you be”
I loved my laptop a gift from my mom
I stared in his eyes feeling so dumb.
I was no longer scared now I was mad,
Monsters aren’t fun when they behave so bad.
So I took out my bat and put on my new shoes
and said to the monster, “guess what you lose”.
One swat on the noggin and he was out cold
I keep my toys because I was bold.
It pays to be brave and never have fear
But be careful at night when a monster is near.

HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN
to my Grandaughters
Copyright Jan/2014
WHC

We all have this fear, when today is not remembered tomorrow
We worry that we miss happiness or sometimes bitter sorrow.
They put names on things like this but none will ever fit.
So here I am forgetting , not remembering where I sit.
I can't see my children's faces the way I used to do
it is not like there are many, there is only just a few.
Their names are now escaping me on every other day
and when I can't remember I don't know what to say.
My brain has suddenly collapsed on me and so I gently cry
perhaps tomorrow when I see the world I promise I will try.
Losing all your yesterdays is such a horrible  lonely thing,
for all their loving memories were always there to sing.
Now they have drifted far away and I am so alone
I wonder if there is things I've done for which I must atone.
The good is presently  gone as is all the bitterly bad,
that is why this monster has made me so terribly sad.
Please try and recall my face and please say my name out loud
so I will know who I am and feel just a little bit proud.

WHC....copyright/2014

It seems like an eternity since we last spoke a real word
something that didn't hurt and wasn't absurd.
I can't remember that  real ******* feeling
I can hardly tell because of blind love, the walls from the ceiling.
Give me some clues, a valid trail to follow
not these bitter words that I am forced to swallow.
You are in or you're out, my cracked heart needs to know
it would not be easy but I can pack and go.
Disaster strikes at the strangest times and  will always pick
an unexpected moment like a red clay brick.
Hurt me or **** me, bury me deep or come home
There is no point in this two hearts on the roam.
All good things come to a vicious end
just like a strong old willow tree will finally bend.

WHC
Copyright Jan.6/2014

I sit late at night and listen to both new and old songs that move my mood and my soul. They never heal it , just move it. I take heed of lyrics and tap along to melodies, I feel the beat and know that when it's over I will be the same. The same sad man with a burden and fears, with anxiety and sadness. I will carry the heavy load of regret. Mistakes made, bad decisions, angry moments and perhaps the happiness that partying allows.
I will never recover....no one does. The emptiness and sorrow are lifelong companions. They will be with us when we wake and when we battle to sleep.
Do you want an answer ? There isn't one ...it's called life.
We either live it and survive or we give in and jump or swallow or shoot.
Bad options based on history, but they sometimes fly through the open door of our minds. The key is to close that door and seal it tight.
Any kind of life is better than death. Courage is available ...we just have to buy it with work, pain and patience. Hang in there, that is what we do.
WHC
2013

They say age is a number and its true until you reach a high one
then fear sets in and dreams become a terror up until sun.
You don't want to go but sometimes staying is not so good,
you would like to have a real answer, what you'd do if you could.
Some folks grow very old and live to share their time
then others have a shortened while living on a smoke and a dime.
I hear the music playing every night as I close my weary eyes
wishing I had told more truth and many fewer lies.
Ambition can be a killer or a highway to the stars
but I have had so much in 60 years I am all the way to Mars.
I do not want to go an easy way, I want to make a noise
I want to shout my words to all, with a little class and poise.
If I can't then I guess I will stay, at least until tomorrow
I am not sure about the constant pain and sorrow.

Copyright...WHC
Jan./2014

Amid life's worst hours and all the torment that flies around us,
we strive to seek a safe haven that will shield us from the fuss.
Family quarrels and deep down secrets that tend to haunt
then there are the issues that we walk about and tend to flaunt.
So why do we stay and watch the demented show and not leave
why do we wear a tragically broken and scarred heart upon our sleeve.
Because we are human and in this world we know no other way
to tackle the burdens, fears and memories that we carry day to day.
So, on we go driving and pushing into an endless pool of dirt
only to find more and more of the deeply human hurt.
Welcome to confusion, the only thing we have as a  guarantee
so back we go in quick retreat so nothing is really under warranty.

WHC

Don't we all sometimes stagger and fall, and taste the dirt
don't we all sometimes wake up to the morning sun and feel the hurt?
Perhaps we all have similar souls that somehow feel the same
maybe we all have minds that short circuit and feel the pain.
Are we all that different when the scorecard is examined  quick
aren't we all just a little disturbed and perhaps a little sick?
I think we are but I can't complain, I have no easy way
to make sure that tomorrow will be a better day.
So I will grab on to the present and hold it close in fear
there is no point in feeling pain that causes us to shed a tear.
Shoot it down, it's useless it drags us back each and every day
but it never stands loud and clear and shows a better way.
I guess I am out of here, alone and on the road
a pack upon my shoulders, feeling pain from yesterdays load.

WHC

Does a tear fall on every letter you write, or maybe not,
do you think about what you used to have or what you've got?
Do you wake up in the morning still hurting from the night,
does the memory of the moment  still cause a vicious fright?
Maybe then you know the price you have to pay for flying high
sometimes we will survive, sometime we may die.
Crawl into a darkened hole and cover your ****** ears
but then you won't have any hands to wipe away your tears.
It's a sad life to live this party game, always in pain
grabbing and stabbing, reaching for whatever you may gain.
There is a shelf life to all you do and even all you dream
it will all come to a nasty end  worse than you ever could seem.
Try to fly and get above all the damp clouds and the sun
you lost her in all the reverie and she was the only one.
Its over, love played out and bled until it died a sad death,
now you  live for what is still to do with a quiet breath.

WHC
Oct/2013

Sometimes we think we know the world and all that dwells within,
perhaps we think we just aren’t loved and that is such a sin.
Not in ways of holy books or idols on the shelf,
but a sin against your own esteem, for we need to love our self.
How could one stand in a pleasant place, where love gives off a glow,
and still be heard to say, they really do not know.
Love is in the food we eat and how it is prepared
love is in the rooms we share and how another cared.
Love is in the time we have though often not enough,
love is in the hours no matter, smooth or tough.
Puppies too have loved you without ever saying so,
Yet here I am a simple man, who never lets you know.
I give in the ways I understand and sometimes they are weak
When I know that as a woman its loving words you seek.
So here it is on paper, it is the way I am
A simple little poet, not worth green eggs and ham.
But even though my words are poor and pockets full of air,
You must feel after many years, the poet does really care.
WHC

Each time it gets harder to dig up words with real meaning
I feel like an actor walking in to his first screening.
Its not important to anyone but me what I stumble to write
It is sad in this bitter world that finding words is such a fight
I want the trees to be greener, the flowers to last longer
I want the sky to stay blue and my mind to stay stronger
I want illness to just simply leave town for ever more
Just leave my life and on the way out don’t slam the door
I want to give more to the ones that I love so much
I want them closer to me daily so I feel their touch
It seems I have an awful lot of wants within my soul
When I find them all I will finally feel somewhat whole.

WHC….2024

Often times at my dreadful old age I wonder at my value
My worth is something that may at this stage still be due
What might I do to fix this world or even this tiny home
Would anyone even notice if my soul decided to roam
Our value is determined but what we can contribute
Not by the anguish or pain that we may distribute
I have not the courage to simply fly to that place
Where all the worthless will sleep and take up space
So I find myself inflicting nuisance on those I love
Where I have never fit like a warm winter glove
Perhaps the latest sneak attack on my very being
Will allow me the simple privilege of finally seeing
Maybe at last end my brutal waste of time and air
I wonder then will anyone with a mind really care
Like millions of others in my sad world of fear and doubt
I must wait and see what wondering about value is really all about

WHC 2024