happiness is a game of courage
intricate in it's strategies
straight forward in it's goal

it does'na matter  if you play
with stick and ball or pen and paper
this game requires the strength of your heart
and sometimess the loss of your mind

you score according to your own gradient
some, the best players find happiness
in the small wee things, the rest of us overlook.
some search for the big score, whilst overlooking
the small golden fragments scattered about...

you can see those who are winning,
for when you look into their eyes
there is contentment, that is after all
the much sought after prize...

are ye winning today......

Oh, humanity
can we strive
to live a life
of compassion?

If we hear
the elderly
crying and lonely
can we spare
a moment,
can we care
enough to listen?

If we see a stranger
standing on a corner
with a lifetime
of white hair
and pain to share
even though
he may be scamming
can we still care
enough to spare
some food at least?

If we stand shoulder to shoulder
with the disenfranchised,
the disrespected
and the disappointed people
who have been
discriminated against
can we look them in the eyes
with love and respect
and not add to the grief
that they always seem to get?

If we get the chance
can we be better
then the others
who came before?
Can we do just a little more
and be decent for a change?

first time I am laughing at myself

August tans on the strong armed roofers
the black concrete dudes
even in this day seem to  
tan
now with the sun hotter
than ever
constructing hovels and trying to pay bills
we may not  
seem poetic but we were
we helped build this country
piece by piece
and I salute me I salute the people who sweated out the sun in
blue jeans and overalls
carried your shingles up to the roof
two squares at the time real men
not those naughty little
pencil pushers
that lift weights after a nine to five day
in a suit
or accountants in a cubicle that get
carpal tunnel syndromes and act like they
are dying
come work for a day with real men
those of us who sweat in the sun glisten
we make women ***

I have to get to nowhere
I am in the now
here

ever have you sat in a hot attic and looked at all the history
of the nails  the wood how it was cut and the effort
to get it here so true
and the men that day they erected it
did they have kids
were they drunks or
christians
good family men
or jacklegs trying to get
enough money for their next fix
and how it doesn't let any water in or memories out
and how it just seems old and historic
complete protection of this structure and the stucco downstairs and grandmas
cedar chest and all those old pictures
I don't look at those I look at the beams the nails showing through and think of
the energy
the thought behind
the roof
overhead
overheard