Today
it seems
your world is crumbling
tomorrow
is your chance
to start to rebuild.
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Yearly Archives: 2019
Father’s Day 2019
I breathe his breath
his air is mine
so when I cry
his tears remind
me how to love
and where to find
the strength to heal
one day at a time.
hands of men
there will always be
enough hands
to lift a boulder
or make a mess
but may there never be
enough, hands of men
to gently raise
a child
point of view
Is that a quote or a poem,
a rhyme or a love note?
Half of the time
I don’t really know.
The other half
I really don’t care.
It’s like when you know it
you know it, and when
you don’t, you
show it, in hope
that someone
just
might
be standing too,
back against the wall
just as tired as you
but able to explain
from another point of view.
bent out of shape
It’s natural
to push
and pull
and push
some more.
Getting all bent
out of shape
is healthy
I’m sure.
It’s the only
form
I’ve ever known
that’s kept me
going.
All crooked
and crazy, and
out of control
but
alive, loopy
and looking forward
to
tomorrow.
scars
We do all we can
to convince ourselves
the past will fade
into our scars
where even those
wrinkled, hardened
reminders
no longer hurt
as much as
the new cuts
we are bound to receive.
sleeping in the afternoon
sleeping in
the afternoon
dreamless
I wake
nursing a wound
which as, I
breathe
it breathes too
a porous
little mouth
reminding
me, to rise
against
the death
of sleep,
do all
I can
to speak —
and dream —
and try
once more
to heal.
stop, relax and wonder.
I know people
far too busy
to stop, relax and wonder.
And it’s quite sad
in a way
to stop, relax and wonder.
If they knew I
had the time
to stop, relax and wonder.
They’d probably scoff
like nobody ought
to stop, relax and wonder.
Until the sordid, morbid day
they stop, relax and wonder
perhaps it’s I
who’s mourned the day
one too many times over?
sex, love, and war
if it’s all
sex, love
and war
then where we stand
is better, for
what it’s worth
the things we carry
lies, lore
even drugs, barely
rock and roll
our sundry hearts
whose spirits lurk
dear Joan of Arc,
if it’s all
been heaven sent
then hear me now
as I repent,
tied together
at the stake
a Sid and Nancy
sealed fate,
but dare I ask
what you desire
if and when
they light my fire,
come on, come on
make it quick
like silver I’ve
two dimes that’s it,
nothing more
and nothing less
dear lizard king
feel this
music sung
inside my heart
sailing on
a Noah’s Ark,
and in a cage
twisted, tangled
two minds race
they jingle jangle,
pulling teeth
and gumming glass
spitting blood
and skipping mass
for if it’s all
sex, love
and war
then know the reasons
worth fighting for
Every last bit
Don’t give in, until
you’ve given up
everything.
Every
last
bit,
until
there is
nothing but air —
and everyone you know
is gasping
for one
last
breath.
Words Of An Average White Male 