Heaven holds no paradise
that I've not found in your embrace.
No golden hue, divine device-
Heaven holds no paradise,
to beckon me look even twice.
No glory there to match your face.
Heaven holds no paradise
that I've not found in your embrace.

To me, you are a paradise
Stretched far beyond the mind's frail grasp
What glory found on simple sands
Could elicit such awestruck gasp?

None other, love, but you alone,
Could promise such without a word,
But with a look, a simple touch,
Make silent sentiment so heard.

Endless summer, boundless heaven,
Far from the path I thought to trod;
You've echoed hymns they've never sung
Words written by the hand of God.

I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.

If I haven't told you
If I forgot to say
Let me clear the air now,
Before time slips away

In case you missed it, baby
If the message failed to send
I'll try to make it clear now
Try to help you comprehend

If you wonder where my heart lies
You can lay that doubt to rest.
Nothing else in this whole world
Puts this thunder in my chest.

So in case I failed to mention,
To be certain that you've heard
You should know how much I love you
Without a single spoken word.

Don't we two hearts oft seem to tread
on common sands?  A common thread
appears to bind with no great dread,
with not a word, between us, said.

The rhythm of your ebb, my flow,
as fate takes us where we might go,
so coincide, suspicions grow-
is there some plot we can't yet know?

Your face I see, in maddened crowd,
with silence that echoes aloud.
If coincidence, I'm wowed-
if cosmic hand, it should be proud.

As subtle as sand on the wake,
who knows where next our waves will break?
Adrift on currents we both take-
The Cosmos makes no such mistake.

Just between you and me,
I've got this little fantasy
about a beach in Waikiki
where nobody else goes.
We could lie lazily
in the shade of an old palm tree,
a world apart where we could be
a story no-one knows.

Just between me and you,
I'd get lost in the ocean blue,
dancing mirror of sky's hue
riding on the tide.
Could it ever come true?
Maybe, if we follow through.
A little happiness is due.
I'd find it by your side.

Just between you and I,
instead of simply getting by,
we should give the dream a try-
just pick a time and day.
If you're not afraid to fly,
we'll be there in the blink of an eye,
and kiss this humdrum life goodbye
and steal paradise away.

Goodnight, dear one, the day has passed.
No ray of light is meant to last.
Our time is short, as verse to song.
Goodnight, dear one, you've been so strong.

Goodnight, dear one, eyes closed in peace,
let pain and struggle, at last, cease.
The battle that you fought is done
Goodnight, dear one, at last, you've won.

Goodnight, dear one, you've earned a rest,
for all the lives you've touched and blessed.
While in our thoughts, you're never gone;
goodnight, dear one, we'll carry on.

Goodnight, dear one, but not goodbye,
within our hearts you'll never die.
As precious as our time has been,
goodnight, dear one. We'll meet again.

You tell me that you love me so,
and that you always will-
a love like that is hard to find,
and harder to fulfill.
You love me while I'm full of life
I truly hope you stay,
but are you gonna love me when
the luster falls away?

I'll never be this young again,
now, please, don't think me bold-
but are you sure your love will stand
when I am gray and old?
The spring will be gone from my step,
my strength will also fade.
Will I turn round to see you gone,
or be glad that you stayed?

The stars themselves fade out in time,
their shine will dim and die,
and it won't take that kind of time
to wither you and I;
but if you love me as you say,
then time will see us kept,
until beneath her currents cold
the river sees us swept.

So, when the luster falls away,
and all that's left is old,
will you still be the one I have,
the one I get to hold?
If your dear heart is true enough
to an old soul like me,
then that sweet love will be enough
for my eternity.

Kiss me goodbye
don't say a word
you've said enough
it's all been heard
I'm letting go
so don't hang on
The time has come
and I am gone.

Perhaps I failed,
I've been known to.
It could be me,
it could be you.
I place no blame,
no guilt I feel.
No fairy tale-
this ending's real.

Kiss me goodbye,
I'm on my way.
You'll live to love
another day.
I'll carry on
in my own form,
my conscience clear
to keep me warm.

So close your eyes,
and purse your lips,
come here and grab
me by the hips,
and kiss me, like
you used to do-
when you loved me
and I loved you.

Kiss me goodbye,
without a sound,
tomorrow I
won't be around.
And all that I
am gonna miss
will pale beside
that one last kiss.

I want love like I've never had
Where it feels so good and hurts so bad
Long nights and long fights and we make up
Come hell or high water we won't break up

I want love like it used to be
The kind'll make me forget about me
Somehow my feet never touch the ground
And people wonder why I'm never around

I want love like a fairy tale
You know the old story fairly well
No matter what else we get into,
Love as one, can't be split in two

I want love that's just like me
Comfortable in my insanity
Take it easy as a rule of life-
I find that, and I'll make her my wife.

You've got a glow
like a star.
From afar,
I wished on you,
and now, there you are.
Looking at me
from behind those
eyelashes,
smashing
my inhibitions
like broken prose.

Pretty you,
whom I have yet to meet,
I greet you,
sweetly,
and ask you this:
would you miss
the moonlight
if I stole it from your eyes?
The mirrored glow
they show
is more bright,
and not to my surprise-
how could
even the moon
not swoon,
lost in your gaze?
Moonbeams and
starlight, both
seem to have
lost their ways.

Could you tell me,
pretty you-
did the wind put you there?
You have taken
my breath,
and shaken
the air
around your face.
Such grace must
surely fly-
so how is it
that you pass me by
here on the ground?
Don't misunderstand,
I'm glad you've
come around,
pretty you.

Pretty you,
I hope I'm not
too fresh,
but my mind is
a bit of a mesh,
and you're pouring
through it.
The sound of
nature stopping
to admire,
like moths to a fire,
myself closest to
the flame.
Tell me,
pretty you,
do you have a name?
What word could be
crafted, such a beauty to frame?
Surely, anything plain
would only defame.

I'll be honest,
pretty miss,
my heart tells me to
chance a kiss,
but I know I shouldn't
rush, but take it slow.
Instead, I have another plan
to sit here, and maybe
hold your hand,
and under moonlight,
your voice, get to know.
But should the passion overtake,
don't be shy, make no mistake-
I won't be put off should you choose to,
lean in close,
just
like
this...
and like so,
steal a little kiss...

That would be just fine, pretty you

It sounds like a broken record
Feels just like a revolving door
When another tin-star soldier
Explains what somebody died for
When both sides are crying "justice!"
But when all things are complete
There's another broken family
There's more blood out in the street.

And there's nobody to answer for
The systemic elimination
Of innocent black men and boys
Across this old and broken nation.
When guilt is predetermined
And last resorts become reflex
A whole race of Americans
Are forced to worry "Am I next?"

You don't have to like the truth
In order for the truth to be.
You can cry out furiously
When men in protest take a knee,
But if you deny the evidence
When the truth is brought to light
Then, you're a sucker or a liar,
Either way, you're just not right.

She has a luminescence about her
A way of outshining the neon and fluorescent
That cling to her curves as she dances beneath them
I stood there, in my second-hand persona,
wearing a mask of bravado, now whimsical with
its mouth agape, staring as she made love to the music.
I recollected myself,
remembered to breathe,
swallowed my heart,
and dared to move closer.

The rhythmic pulse of the music
threatened to crush me as my feet touched the floor-
my head still in the cloud generated by her heat,
that permeated every molecule of my body.
The closer I got, the harder it was to keep
from succumbing to the lack of air.
"Remember to breathe.
You're sweating.
Abort. NO.
Play it cool. You're cool."

I could have pieced together
A thousand words, pulled from the ether
and crafted into exactly-what-she-wanted-to-hear,
But she had taken my air.
My tongue wouldn't move with my lips
To form a simple hello.
I just stood there in my mask.
No longer whimsical.
Nearly desperate
and certain that I would die right there.

Then, in a move that writes love songs,
that creates sunsets and shifts paradigms,
SHE, this caramel-skinned goddess
Wove her warm, illuminated fingers into mine
And pulled me into that dance
That she was sharing only with the music.
Not breathing again.
Keep moving.
Stop thinking.
Just be. Right now, just be.

So, I was. Dead to time and space,
alive to the moment and the music,
Her touch, the light and the curves.
She held to me as if she read my mind;
perhaps I wear my heart in my eyes.
Eyes that she seemed to pull my soul out of
To drown it in hers, as she danced
With me.
To me. Through me.
Beyond me.
But with me, as though I were the light and the music,
and she wasn't done making love.

When I was young,
I thought that one day
I'd learn to shave my face
and wear a polio brace.
This might seem absurd to you,
but I just thought it's what you do
when you become a man.

My father wore one of his own,
His left leg, withered to the bone,
and Dad was the first man I knew,
so I thought that was just what men do.
He walked with a limp,
but his head held high.
He looked life, no shame,
right in the eye.
He didn't let a moment pass him by,
because that's what men do.

He went to college, and got a degree,
and earned his keep most honestly.
He never asked for charity,
though he said "there's no shame
if you have to."
He was always humble, but not insecure,
of mind and body he was always sure-
for he kept them healthy, kept them pure,
because that's what men do.

He was always smiling, and quick as a whip,
his dinner parties were always a trip-
watching him and his guests exchange quips;
he was the funniest guy they knew.
And if a loved one was down and out,
he was the first one there, without doubt.
He said you should never let one do without,
because that's what men do.

He had a strong mind, and the heart of a bear,
He faced even tragedy with savoir faire
But his strong calm demeanor didn't hide his care,
The world knew his heart was true.
He stayed faithfully by my mother's side,
as the cancer took her and she slowly died,
I understood, when he finally cried,
that that is what men do.

I grew up and learned how to shave my face,
but not before Dad went to a "better place".
Still, til his last breath, he faced life with grace,
with a smile on his face, and a polio brace,
because that's what men do.

A carpenter was given task;
nobody thought it could be done. 
A bridge that spanned eternity 
was priority number one. 

This carpenter, he had no tools;
materials he had so few.
Yet without doubt he set to work- 
he knew just what he had to do. 

With two great beams of solid wood, 
fastened in a criss-cross fashion,
and three old nails, wrought of iron,
completed his fateful mission. 

He had worked with a crew of twelve, 
but in the end, he toiled as one. 
Regardless, he had kept the course,
and labored til the bridge was done.. 

He never had union backing, 
and was never properly paid. 
Where other workers would have quit, 
this carpenter would not be swayed. 

Now, in the end, his blood and sweat, 
the bridge's strong foundation made. 
The final sacrifice of  life 
made sure its timeless glory stayed.

There is no toll to cross this bridge; 
the price was paid in blessed blood. 
Who'd have thought a bridge to heaven 
could be made from a cross of wood?

Cyrus was a butcher,
the ladies thought him sweet,
and when they spoke,
the gals would joke
about old Cyrus' meat.

But soon the missus told 'em,
her one and only beef-
forget the size
or how he'd rise,
Old Cyrus was too brief.

His brother, Clive, the baker,
a young and heavy lad,
was paid no mind
by womankind
cause of the weight he had.

But soon the missus told 'em,
with a twinkle in her eye,
Forget the size,
or how he'd rise,
that boy could eat a pie!

We didn't say much that night,
but the silence loudly spoke.
We were burning moonlight
watching it go up in a puff of smoke.
We both felt the fire,
but it couldn't last long.
For one of us or the other
the heat would soon be gone.
There was no fear, just separation;
the night bore a connotation
of terminal proportions,
and an impending self-condemnation.
Awash there in the silence,
watching the night hang overhead,
we sat, as though watching kin
slowly slipping away in their deathbed.
Like, we know that it's coming,
there's no impending sense of dread.
We'll say a prayer and throw some flowers
Then both sleep in our own separate bed.
We almost force a smile
when our eyes meet.
It takes a while of trying
Before we both look back at our feet.
Still, she leans into me,
Closes her eyes against my shoulder.
The only warmth left between us
So I wrap her up and hold her
and we sit there,
cloaked in the waning night.
The clouds have blanketed the stars
and we've burned up all the moonlight.

Okay, Cupid, tell me true-
The hell'd I ever do to you?
You flap about, your bowstring drawn
Aiming just to lead me on.

"Oh, she's the one!" You always say,
And with a 'thwip', arrows away!
And when it hits, right in my heart,
Proceeds to tear the world apart.

And then you just flutter away,
No doubt thinking "good job, today!"
But Cupid, sir, you fail to tell
That my poor heart is in for hell.

Now, love is grand, don't get me wrong,
But never seems to last for long.
Those arrows you're so fond to fire
Are sometimes too quick to expire.

So, Cupid, mate, step up your game,
Or redirect your blasted aim.
If love is such a complex trick,
Don't shoot at me you little *****!

I take a breath and close my eyes
And whisper "please, just let it pass".
My heart beats fast, my chest is tight,
I feel I'll break, I'm made of glass.

I want to scream, but lack the air,
The best that I can do is cry
And in the midst of all of this
I'm certain this is how I'll die.

I just need you to give me room
I just want you to hold me tight
I need silent reassurance,
I need to think I'll be alright.

My legs are weak; my heavy arms
Can do little to calm the storm.
My mind, my trap, my prison cell,
My oldest foe in truest form.

I close my eyes, I clinch my fist
And take another heavy breath,
And silently, I pray for peace,
Some cadence or merciful death.

With the very last ounce of strength
its tiny, broken body brings,
it takes one final shot at life,
and slowly, once more, ***** its wings.

I ask you not to keep me, Lord,
I've no fear for the coming storm.
My life has led away from harm
My resting place is safe and warm.

Instead, my God, I beg of you
To keep all those that seem but lost
The broken, sick and destitute,
The battle-scarred, the tempest-tossed.

If some great blessing you had planned
To cast on me, I don't deserve.
Instead bestow that act of love
On those the world sees under-served.

On the clearest of nights,
when the moon is new,
I like to lie on my back
in the grass and dirt.
I'll close my eyes, and
lie there, silent,
feeling the wind roll over me
timing my breathing with
the dance between breeze and grass,
keeping meter with the song they play.
Then, I feel the earth against my back.
I stretch my arms
as   wide   as     I    can...
and, palms down,
I hold the world on my back.
I try to feel the weight of it
on my shoulders.
I think of the size of this
hot ball of rock and water.
I feel the heaviness of
all of its inhabitants.
I feel their slightest vibrations-
baby steps
that move mountains-
shaping the landscape
and changing the destiny of this
ball of dirt.
I feel it living.
At the same time, I feel it dying.
It's an endless cycle
Of beautiful, precious life
in terminal doses.
I think of all this,
behind my back,
on my shoulders,
until I feel that the weight of it all
will surely crush me.
In that moment, I open my eyes
And look up at the clear,
moonless sky, and see
a sea of stars,
burning brighter than normal
as they pierce the darkness,
the illusion of the world on my shoulders.
As I stare into the cosmos,
the reality of this little ball of rock
is lifted from my back.
What was, moments ago,
the heaviest object in the universe,
was now tiny, when set against infinity.
I finally stand, and smile,
having successfully
thrown the planet back into space.

America is bleeding,
her streets are running red.
They're running out of places
to pile up all the dead.
Uncle Sam is smoking,
pockets fat with oil and gas;
when will Lady Liberty
hold that flame under his ***?

America is bleeding,
a badge stuck in her chest,
can't defend a head wound
behind a kevlar vest.
And Justice wears a blindfold,
but it works kinda funny.
She can see right through it
if you have the money.

America is bleeding,
and now her children see
right on through the smokescreens
into her hypocrisy.
While high atop the flagpole
Old Glory's Stars stained red.
If we don't stop the bleeding,
We're gonna end up dead.

Crazy?
Maybe. Possibly.
In spite of what crazy's costing me
I can see no reason NOT to be
just a little bit crazy.
It takes a lot to amaze me,
but I'm amazed for days
at the level of insanity
disguised as vanity
that I see, individually portioned
smothered in bigotry and
dispensed freely, thumped
out of various ancient tomes
and called Sovereignty.
Crazy?
I was crazy once.
Invited Jim Jones out to lunch,
and I threw him a couple bones
dared him to spike the punch.
And his reply was hazy,
like a busted eight ball.
Something told me that guy was crazy.
But what was really gone
was how they all gathered on the lawn
to egg him on. Didn't dawn
that they were going to go
too far til they were gone.
Nobody caught on.
Crazy?
Yeah, just a little bit.
I'm what happens when the fan
hits the ****.
I've hit this **** and that, a bit,
and held the smoke of a thousand
miscreant rips, scales tipped
til we slipped out of the tray,
a gram shy but well on our way.
Hey, put that **** away,
the NSA is on the phone today,
and they hear you coughing,
keep coughing that way
and they're going to put you away
in Guantanemo Bay,
and there you'll stay,
for forever and a day,
or until you roll doubles,
or have the money to pay.
Monopolizing the cheap properties
with new hotels every day.
Crazy?
That's a matter of opinion
and in this day and age
opinion is public dominion.
Digitized before our eyes
and with a simple keystroke
we've broken the fourth wall,
and every imaginable flaw
has come to be our downfall,
gliding through reality
at breakneck speeds
then crashing into the firewall,
before we fall, right down
into the cold, hard ground
around the feet of what used
to be called discretion,
that is now open confession
coupled with cries for attention,
but don't mention criticism,
that's a schism! and we all want
to go down in flames together,
thick as a brick, but brains like a feather.
Crazy?
Yeah, but what can you do?
Look inside your mind,
I bet you're a little crazy too.
We're all just outright animals
in this ***** human zoo.
I'm a **** chimp, it's true,
I ain't monkeying around with you.
Just chilling, killing time,
instilling madness in the rhyme
to keep my mind refined
or just stick a finger in it from behind
stroke the cortex, bless it all,
now I'm blind!
I must be out of my mind.
It was a mistake to think
I could take a headache
out without some serious
long term repercussions.
No more discussions, as I've
left myself with a fingerprint
and a concussion.
I'm feeling a little lazy...
Crazy?

Why yes, utterly

There're few stories mournful as Reese's,
who, on dynamite, wrote his thesis.
One day, as dawn broke,
he lit up a smoke,
and BOOM!  Now it rains Reese's Pieces.

One nation under assault,
one nation under pressure,
one nation claiming greatness against
an outdated measure.
With liberty and justice stockpiled commodities
and legions of disgruntled youth
left to deal with the atrocities.
One nation under-loved
One nation over-policed
One nation claiming Jesus
wearing the tell-tale mark of the beast.
With hate in the left hand, and hate in the right,
and both hands balled up like we're dying to fight.
A New Day, they call this perpetual night
This suffocating darkness that chokes out the light
And EVERYBODY THINKS THAT THEIR SIDE IS RIGHT.

One nation underwhelmed by the policies they chose
One hypocrisy of a democracy, calling their own stink a rose
One thing after another, no wonder the kids are cynics now,
thinking "You CAN'T make it better, WE don't know how."
Love is lost in the struggle between apathy and hate
America, the beautiful.  America, the great.
America, the fractured paragon,
We cling to ghosts of a changing time
We've fallen for the distractions, and
our pedestal is too high to climb.

Oh brothers, oh sisters, what else can we do?
If you'll look out for me, and I look out for you,
just a ripple in this pool of ****
may clear the waters, just a bit.
But as long as there are white votes
black votes
Latino votes
left votes
right votes
there'll be no vote of confidence
in the future of these divided states.
We'll rip ourselves apart,
tear out our own heart
waving our flags the whole time
and claiming no blame for the divide.
God Bless America,
and do it quick.
All sides of this society
are dying or sick.

(Foreword:  the word Gvgeyu'i (pronounced guh-GAY-yoo-ee) in the eastern Giduwah Cherokee dialect, means both "I love you", and "love" as a noun.)

Gvgeyu'i
by light of fire
'neath full moon's gaze
and shaman's drum,
the young brave
and the princess fair
dance alone where day is done.

Gvgeyu'i
he hears her say,
as embers dance
between the two,
the flames give way,
to passions blaze
'neath starlit sky
ancestors' view

"Gvgeyu'i"
he echoes back,
never turning
tail to flame,
"Gvgeyu'i,
my sun and moon,
even if you don't
feel the same."

Gvgeyu'i
the spirits chant
enchanted by the
dancing fire.
The longing lovers
drip with sweat
as voices crack
and muscles tire.

Gvgeyu'i
the princess sighs,
the spirit-flame
glows in her eyes,
Gvgeyu'i,
her lover true,
utters back her
lovelorn cries.

Gvgeyu'i,
they sang with glee,
the night, the silence
echoed, too,
Gvgeyu'i,
they sang together,
and followed it with
i-go-hi-dv.


(Footnote: i-go-hi-dv is pronounced "ee-go-he-doo" and means "Forever")

A woman is like a candle,
full of warmth, and bright.
When the world is at its darkest,
a good one can be your light.
She'll bring such heat and beauty,
to see you through the night.
Though storms leave you in darkness,
with her there, you feel alright.

A woman is like a candle, true.
a necessity to have around-
but if denied the proper attention
she could burn your house to the ground.

Amber was an atheist,
she thought the world was dumb as hell.
Britney was a botanist,
who had a fertilizer smell.
Candice was a coroner,
a scary passion for the stiffs.
Diana was a drummer chick,
that knew a few guitar riffs.

Evelyn was evil, man,
all leather suits and chains and whips.
Farrah was a therapist,
got in my brain with swinging hips.
Greta was a gunslinger,
she'd give most anything a shot.
Hannah was a homebody-
shy as hell, but twice as hot.

Iris was an Ivy Leaguer,
thought I was a total fool.
Janice was a juggler,
who liked to play with power tools.
Kimmy taught karate,
who dated me just for the kicks.
Louise was a lyricist,
who wrote about how guys were *****.

Marilyn was mostly mean,
she liked to fight and then make up.
Nancy was so negative,
I had no choice but to break up.
Opal was an occultist,
who liked to gossip with the dead.
Paula was a *******,
that made me pay to come to bed.

Queenie was inquisitive,
the questions were too much to bear.
Rosie was a recluse
who never shaved or brushed her hair.
Sidney was a sinful sort,
with toys and gadgets 'neath the bed.
Tina was a twisted chick,
with thirteen voices in her head.

Ursula was uber-cool,
always on the latest trends.
Vicky was on Vicodin,
and we all know how that one ends.
Wanda was a wanderer,
that left to join a circus troupe.
Xena the exhibitionist
liked to do it on the stoop.

Yolanda was young and fine,
and nearly cost me everything.
Zoey was a Zombie fan,
she got hot when he would sing.
I'd like to say I've settled down,
but since the alphabet is done,
I'm gonna met an Ann or Anita,
and give it all another run.

I've embraced my nothingness
My cosmic insignificance
And my indomitable will
And drive to make a difference.

So though the world forget my name,
and **** me with no shred of fame
I'll take my chances just the same
To bridge the gaps that leave us lame.

I'm not so vain to need to know
Who'll miss me when it's time to go.
Even if my crew won't grow,
My heart, my fellow man, I'll show.

Thought I saw you today
But I was wrong
Was the hair that got me,
Chestnut, so long
Almost followed at first but
Good sense came along
And I knew within my heart
That you were gone.

It would be awkward anyway
Talking again,
I would lose my voice after
"How have you been?"
So much has transpired
'Tween now and then,
I'm a different man
Since you've been gone.

I thought I saw you again
But I let it go.
In spite of what it looked like
At heart I know,
I never saw you leave, but
come ebb and flow,
Time keeps telling me
That you're still gone.

Maybe it's some stress-based
Hallucination.
A figment of an exhausted
Imagination.
Anxiety tied to this old
Separation.
But I know it's not you, here,
I know you're gone.

I thought I saw you, again,
In flesh and bone,
Didn't look a bit different since
You left me alone.
The world keeps on changing
So much is unknown,
But I know I couldn't see you, now,
The dead stay gone.

I saw an old friend today.
She'd aged 30 years
in the few she'd been away.

Her former glow is all but gone,
No spark behind her green eyes.
Little more than skin and bone.

Time takes us all for a ride,
And leaves the marks on us
To check our faith and pride

But the woman I saw was not
A victim of time, no,
Her fate has been hand-wrought

My heart is broken, I fought tears
While she stood there
Recounting addiction that had added those years

I saw an old friend today
That time and ****** have taken away.
She says she's clean,
Trying to get her **** together.
Her face is skeletal,
The track-marks got her arms like leather.
But she says she's better.
It's hard, but she's better.
She just needs a break,
And if the world will let her
A chance to come back,
A chance to start over,
She says she's clean again,
She tells me she loves me,
And that last part is the straw
That breaks my emotional back,
And the pain in my chest
Feels like a heart attack
And I hugged her as if
I'd never see her again.
And begged any God that would listen
To prove me wrong.

I cried out to God for answers
While waiting for his reply
I forgot to do some living
'Ere I fell down to die.

Beheld I no great majesty
In wonders he had wrought
But pitied self for circumstance
That time and life had brought

Forbid that I would ever look
Beyond my meager station
And witness those at deeper lows
and show appreciation.

Hence, the twilight of my life
Has come, and shadow's fallen.
At last, across the great divide
I hear His voice is callin'.

Our answers come in all due time
And so little time is given,
So while you wait you might as well
Go do a little living.

I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.

If those young men had looked like me,
how diff'rent everything would be.
There'd be no blood or teardrops shed.
Had they been white, they'd not be dead.

If Mike Brown had been Michael White,
he surely would have been alright.
"Don't shoot!" would not need to be said.
Had he been white, he'd not be dead.

From Ferguson to East L.A.,
we hear the stories every day.
"Protect and Serve" til streets run red.
Had they been white, they'd not be dead.

Call it racial immunity,
where skin-tone is impunity.
Don't let yourself be so misled-
had they been white, they'd not be dead.

As more and more young ones are slain,
and protests are met with disdain,
you may debate what I have said,
but were they white, they'd not be dead.

John Doe died this morning,
a man of indeterminate age
They found him in an alleyway,
a blanket of newspaper lining his cage
They said it was overexposure,
hypothermia and bad luck.
He was pronounced, tagged, thrown in a bag,
and loaded onto the truck.

John Doe had lived in that same spot
for fifteen haggard years.
Yet nobody knew his real name,
or listened to his tears.
Was he once a father? Or
was he always just a punk?
The community just passed him by
To them he was nothing but a drunk.

Whether or not John Doe had seen
better times seemed irrelevant.
Legally, John wasn't a human being
just a negative urban element.
His last words were "Spare some change
for coffee and hot bread?"
But nobody could spare the time,
and left John Doe for dead.

I wonder how long John sat dead
before anybody saw or cared.
I wonder how many handfuls of change
really could have been spared.
A little bit of warmth and hope
Were all that he desired;
But John Doe never saw a break,
until his time expired.

Old John was unidentified,
no license or social security;
no family reported him missing,
see, John was just an "impurity".
The mortician took his organs out
and stitched him up with wire.
Threw him on the metal table
and slid him in the fire.

John Doe was disposed of
in accordance with local code
Then they cleaned up the alleyway
He lived and died in, his abode.
John Doe is dead and gone now,
but I guess it's all the same.
John had never really lived
since the world forgot he had a name.

We are of one song,
but the verses ever change,
and no two of us are the same.
One chorus, in billions of keys,
and it doesn't always rhyme.

In a perfect verse,
we're born and we grow,
find love and a happily ever after,
then when we're old and gray
silently slip away in our sleep.

But the song is more often
melancholy than melodic,
less rhythm, more blues,
and we struggle to keep time,
and it doesn't always rhyme.

But SING!
Sing for all you're worth,
sing out of tune,
sing the wrong words,
sing at the top of your lungs
because it's YOUR verse,
YOUR voice,
YOUR efforts that make
the song worth singing
for those around you.
Find harmony in our
lack of melody,
find comfort in
our cacophonous refrain,
find yourself
in the words of the song,
and remember,
it doesn't always rhyme,
but you're never singing alone.

Like saccharine and strychnine
make the poison bittersweet;
cut the sickness into pieces,
make it easier to eat.
**** the head and save the body,
seems to come the faded cry.
While the masses pass us single file,
content to follow and die.

We feast tonight!
The fasting's past, and the banquet now is spread.
We feast tonight!
Enough for all to gather and break bread.
We feast tonight!
Because we hunger, in ways we barely know.
We feast tonight!
We dine together, our common ground to show.

We drink tonight!
To battles won and lost at the stroke of a pen.
We drink tonight!
To who we are, and also who we've been.
We drink tonight!
To memories, and those yet to be made.
We drink tonight!
To the future, and the doomed plans we have laid.

We dance tonight!
To music that only we can hear.
We dance tonight!
Together, hands joined, and very near.
We dance tonight!
To let out what's bottle up inside.
We dance tonight!
As though unseen, no caution cast for pride.

We sing tonight!
The songs we wrote when we were younger folk.
We sing tonight!
The words we thought were better left unspoke'.
We sing tonight!
The heavens echo, our voices of single mind.
We sing tonight!
And though off-key, could be no more refined.

We live tonight!
No other night holds portent over this.
We live tonight!
With little fear of what we lack, or miss.
We live tonight!
Because we wish, not because we must.
We live tonight!
And never know, tomorrow we may be dust.

America is bleeding,
her streets are running red.
They're running out of places
to pile up all the dead.
Uncle Sam is smoking,
pockets fat with oil and gas;
when will Lady Liberty
hold that flame under his ***?

America is bleeding,
a badge stuck in her chest,
can't defend a head wound
behind a kevlar vest.
And Justice wears a blindfold,
but it works kinda funny.
She can see right through it
if you have the money.

America is bleeding,
and now her children see
right on through the smokescreens
into her hypocrisy.
While high atop the flagpole
Old Glory's Stars stained red.
If we don't stop the bleeding,
We're gonna end up dead.

There is no tomorrow where
there is no yesterday.
We all came from somewhere
and we're all going away.
Forever is a long time
that encompasses the past
Forever keeps on going,
no matter what won't last.
How can you hate the rainfall
yet love what it may grow,
or hide out from the light
in spite of what that light may show.
The future holds more of the same,
don't even play pretend-
joy and pain walk hand in hand
only the dead have seen the end.

We all come from somewhere,
every acorn has its tree.
The past may not be pretty,
but it's part of who we be.

One nation under assault,
one nation under pressure,
one nation claiming greatness against 
an outdated measure.
With liberty and justice stockpiled commodities
and legions of disgruntled youth
left to deal with the atrocities.
One nation under-loved
One nation over-policed
One nation claiming Jesus
wearing the tell-tale mark of the beast.
With hate in the left hand, and hate in the right,
and both hands balled up like we're dying to fight.
A New Day, they call this perpetual night
This suffocating darkness that chokes out the light
And EVERYBODY THINKS THAT THEIR SIDE IS RIGHT.

One nation underwhelmed by the policies they chose
One hypocrisy of a democracy, calling their own stink a rose
One thing after another, no wonder the kids are cynics now,
thinking "You CAN'T make it better, WE don't know how."
Love is lost in the struggle between apathy and hate
America, the beautiful. America, the great.
America, the fractured paragon, 
We cling to ghosts of a changing time
We've fallen for the distractions, and
our pedestal is too high to climb.

Oh brothers, oh sisters, what else can we do?
If you'll look out for me, and I look out for you,
just a ripple in this pool of ****
may clear the waters, just a bit.
But as long as there are white votes
black votes
Latino votes
left votes
right votes
there'll be no vote of confidence 
in the future of these divided states.
We'll rip ourselves apart,
tear out our own heart
waving our flags the whole time
and claiming no blame for the divide.
God Bless America,
and do it quick.
All sides of this society
are dying or sick.

A county and a world from here,
an hour on the highway,
a barren, level plot of land
marks where we used to stay.
Though close enough to share the rain,
when skies are turned to gray,
I've found that home to ever be
a million miles away.

The echoes of much simpler times
could ever lead the way,
to look upon that gravel road,
where I learned to work and play,
back before the hands of God
pulled you out of the fray,
and set you on some golden street
a million miles away.

I used to visit all the time,
the place where you now lay,
with roses and whatever words
I felt the need to say.
But chiseled marble memories
are not the ones that stay;
the you I miss is ever more
a million miles away.

If fate shall see the faithless sort
like me to judgment day,
forgive my selfish doubt and bile
and beckon me to stay,
I'll seek your precious company,
I'll have so much to say;
wait for me, and I'll find you there
a million miles away.

But life has seen me shun such hope,
forgetting how to pray.
I wear an air of certain doubt
I can't help but display.
Blessings come, and blessings go,
so very few will stay.
And most, once lost, will ever seem
a million miles away.

Early one morning, before sun took to sky,
they came to take Johnny. It was his time to die.
The town had all gathered, the crowd circled in.
As Johnny was strong armed, by four big men,
and lead to the gallows, to hang until dead.
They called for his blood, and he just turned his head.

Johnny stayed silent, as the hateful calls came,
with no pleas for his life, or innocent claim.
He stepped to the noose, with no fear in his eyes,
not every man chooses just when he dies.
But Johnny had taken, the life of a man-
with no explanation, with his own bare hands.
The crowd raised their bibles, demanded him dead,
they called for his life, and he just turned his head.

The priest at the gallows, looked him in the eye,
and said to him "Johnny, you're fixin' to die.
You've been tried and sentenced, and haven't been heard.
You're found guilty of ******, and y'ain't said a word.
It's too late for you now, to make recompense,
but do you have any last words, to speak in defense?"
The crowd was voracious, they wanted him dead.
He just cleared his throat, and lifted his head...

The silence that followed, was stuck in their throats,
as Johnny spoke up, in no broken notes.
"The man killed my brother, and then was set free.
He was friends with the judges, that execute me.
If justice shall fail, then take vengeance instead-
so I took the man's throat, and I choked the man dead.
Now I face the gallows, I do so with no dread."
The crowd remained silent. Each one turned their head.

The sun broke the darkness, on the top of that hill.
Johnny stopped speaking, and stepped to the ****.
The noose was pulled tight, up under his chin.
He looked towards heaven, eyes vacant of sin.
The old oak trap door, creaked under his feet,
and with a pull of a lever, the deed was complete,
and a peaceful expression graced the face of the dead;
and even the hangman, had to turn his head.

Later that evening, as the sun left the sky,
she sat at John's grave, with no tears left to cry.
She dropped a red rose, on the freshly dug earth,
and said goodbye to the last child, she'd ever giv'n birth.
She'd buried the other, as she buried this one,
one died for the other, to see justice done.
She sat there and pondered, where the road had lead.
Then she stood up, heartbroken, and just turned her head.

The way you bend moonlight
Around your frame
Draped like satin from your curves
Is enough to shame the sunrise
And turn monochrome
Her fiery red-orange skies

Pretty little singing blue jay,
petite chanteuse in navy gown,
your sweet tweets drive the gray away
and pick me up when I am down.

But, blue jay friend, so help me GOD,
if on my car lands one small poo,
I'll climb that tree and drop my pants,
and return the favor to you.

Whatever we are, you and I
Requires no labels or ties
I'm just the ship in the darkness
And you're just the gleam in my eyes

I sail as though you're my north star
Polaris fair, guiding me home
You look at me as an escape
A moment allotted to roam.

There was a guy named Larry,
who lived in Little Rock.
He liked to spend his afternoons
with both hands on his

Custom motorcycle-
that he kept full of gas.
He liked to ride to downtown bars
and take it up the

alleyways, real slowly,
and give a little grunt,
in hopes some lady of the night
just might give him some

competent directions,
to a place that doesn't ****.
A place where all the waitresses
are always down to

Fill your drinks more quickly,
and bring you extra bread.
Quick and super-friendly, and
prepared to give you

heavy, double portions,
and charm you with her wits.
When she leans across the table,
you really see her

Trying hard to please you,
and serve you as you dine.
If you're ordering a combo,
she'll suggest the 69!


(That's the beef with broccoli, you pervert.)

It's hard here on the ground floor, surrounded by the street.
The scenery a still-frame, a cell set to repeat.
But I don't see your colors now, that patch of blue's gone gray
I hear your laugh cut through the crash of just another day
Time, again, finds us alone...
in the crushing nothingness of the crowds
I just want it to be gone
Want to shed my shadows among the clouds

It's quiet here in the recent past, reliving a silent beat,
An echo too weak to distinguish, yet still moving the Earth beneath my feet.
Still the subtlety's hard to decipher, the nuance is lost in the stroke
I numb any phantoms that linger, the world is cloud of smoke.
And time and again, it pulls me through
Running headfirst into hell.
Full circle, it seems, in whatever I do
Stopping just this side of well.

It's fleeting here in so-called prime of this distraction known as living
And I haven't asked for more than I have, but I'm taking what they're giving.
A single spark in the midst of a fire doesn't seem to warm the soul
But that same small flame can change the game if you add a little coal
We're hardened now, by time and heat
The pressure's always on
But maybe, when our time's complete
We'll be diamonds before we're gone.

What glorious chance
That the best bits of stardust
Should coalesce here
With red-hair-blue-eyes
And burn the loneliness
From my soul