Tuesday, January 31, 2012


the roses of this garden
cured my every malady
better than those pills
better than that surgery
thorns sharper than scalpels
 remade every part of me
caressed by their petals
their beauty was my remedy 
and now the time has come
for me to leave this quarantine
I hope I can hold on
to the fragrance of serenity

Monday, January 30, 2012

the life we lead

Why did we spend all that time 
with all that paper?

Was it so we wouldn't forget? 

Written down, in office function, 
our memories made in lead?

And now that you've forgotten 
all the whats and whens 

is there time for your soulsick daughter
weeping at your bed?

Sunday, January 29, 2012

the comedienne

some may say 
I'm a ball of goof
juggling laughlines
like some great spoof
but that doesn't mean
I'm pester proof--
those roasts still burn me
for here's the truth:

I use your laughter
to stand aloof

Saturday, January 28, 2012


this fountain hath been bubbling over
continually filled with the bounties of God
and all we must do is take ourselves closer
to drink the true essence of love.

for the gifts of life were ever ripened
like trees laden with tastes of golden sun
ready for hungry hand to come opened
but if we do not harvest, we will have none.

Thursday, January 26, 2012


How can I put this mildly?
for the ego 'tis but a wild thing
and oft what is said
can leave a heart dead
as we all can act a bit childly.

Your approach to life's a bit shaky
it promotes such meanness and hate-y
and if none can get by
from your tongue's vicious scythe
then this land will be far too gravey.

So don't mistake sarcasm for wit
when good people bear the brunt of it
for we all are a' tryin'
without your cruel fryin'
and must forgive each other's bad bits.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

poem 189 (or 188, but who's counting?)

this is a song that hath ever existed
this is a tune that we merely caught on
a melody which this mad world assisted
as we wrote the lyrics, one and by one

we sang of the life, well lived and wasted
we sang of the night, we sang of the dawn
we sang of the crises and victories we tasted
but more often than this, we sang of the love

we were musicians in a land so harmonic
we were dreamers in a dreammaker's dream
we sipped the chalice of Lethe's black tonic
and forgot where the Beauty really did gleam

the sound of this world was oft but a whisper
buzzing between our pounding heart beats
and though our earred-lobes often did falter
at times 'twas our spirit that truly did sing

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

the fowl foul

What if the ugly duckling 
was a duck all along,
no noble fowl lineage, 
no mistake of a swan--
just a webbed, gray, 
unattractive little duck,
teased by his peers, 
a bit down on his luck?

Or what if he never 
saw another of his kind
would he still be unworthy, 
within his own mind?
And would he not find 
his true feathered home,
barred from swan palace, 
must he paddle alone?

Tell me, if this were indeed true
When he was nipped and nudged, 
would we all be blue? 
Would there be any 
that would still love him and care?
Or would this mere smudge
be ever confined to "out there"?
And why did he need a kind
to find his own worth?
For it is such distinctness 
that makes the world's firsts.

So here is a word 
for all the world's ducks
who everyday think 
about how they do suck:
you don't have to find 
that you're a sweet swan
such outsourcing of beauty 
is really just dumb
you have value inside, 
whatever you are
so get out of the puddle, 
and go out there and start.

Monday, January 23, 2012

muddy waters

sick of all this sipping
on rivers made of mud
chewing on our waters
like cows do on their cud

need servants that are honest
and systems that are too
want a choice that really chooses
not a dance off between fools

as long as we are centered
on what the people please
they'll never be concerned
with what the people need

and we will sit there drinking
from glasses filled with mud
as the men who say they serve us
taint our very blood

but until our world's reality
is valued so much more
this cult of personality
will make our streambeds poor

so come away from the parties
come away from the lists
be more keen to starting
something with your wits

help wash this stream, my brother
and we will our waters purify
for we must all come work together
before this poor world dies

Sunday, January 22, 2012


you can't spend your whole time juggling eggs
you're gonna let them drop if you do
and you know what'll happen when some of them break
you'll miss out on your omelet, too
you can't spend your whole time juggling those eggs
you got to let 'em cook for a while
and as long as you're whirlin' and twirlin' on one leg
you can't sit at breakfast and smile

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Growing pains

sing a sweet song
for the girl-child inside of me
she's been there so long
a'hiding and a'seeking, she 

'haps while the sun yawns
we'll lull her to sleepingly
for soon the adult world dawns
and we can't be so weepingly

and though it's not wrong
to be heart-young and care-freely
when it's time to move on
we must give up the playthings, see?

so sing a sad song
for my lack of maturity
though she'd liked to have won
she must lose by necessity

Thursday, January 19, 2012

His mighty song

The heart of this world is half-dead
boned broken & skinned sore
the blood no longer runs red,
blackened by the bad times before

Our remedy must be swift and effective
for we cannot go long without cure
it must come from renewed directive
a panacea so potent and pure

Your love did my spirit reawaken
a solace to a soul so forlorn
and compared to the pills I have taken
this balm did ever heal more

And this is the point of this wording
to revive the dead and near gone
we can't cut this cancer with swording
but only with His mighty pen's song

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Scatter the sun

If I could bottle the golden sun
'twould still not rival all You've done

For far mightier is your Might from men
We are weakened by the where and when

And everywhere we go, our darkness comes
stuck in ourselves, like black bubble gum

we can do but little, without help from You
all our attempts at sunshine, covered with soot

So my Lord, I have only this wish tonight
Lend me Thy power, to gather the light

Then may I scatter the beauty of sun
lit by the best, the only, the One.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012


We are true radicals--
with no great rebellion
no bearing of arms
we will transform
the face of this planet
through the power 
of our love
in the end there will be
no need for forgiveness
no twists and tyrannical turns
when you attract
the heart of your oppressor
there's no need for any
to burn.

Monday, January 16, 2012

begin to shine

it is a diamond's clarity
that makes it so fine
for it is gem's transparency 
which casts so bright
and so, too can our purity
mirror this shine
thru cleaning and clemency
we'll reflect the light

Sunday, January 15, 2012


                         I do not desire to live in a box--
  but it seems I cannot avoid it, 
               since I do
         whether It is the cardboard of my cubicle
             or the Isometric walls of my little room
   everywhere I turn, I am rectangled
 from my cradle
                  until my very tomb.
                And I think that I have been a prisoner
             caged In since my body first began to bloom
     flesh and blood more like a jailhouse 
                         less a heaven, and more a doom.
    But so long I have ignored it--
    a happy gaoler, twirling keys like a fool
                   for I let my body be my keeper
                         Instead of my worldly tool.
But I think I can escape it--can tear down the walls 
                of this dusty room--
for though you can hedge in a brainstem
          a spirit never abides by such rules.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

in the end

in the end they'll ask if I enjoyed it
and I'll think that "enjoy" is too nice a word
it says little of the depth of the situation
and "happiness" is all that they would have heard
for though there was much bliss in my vocation
there was also much trouble and tears
and overall a sort of transcendental revelation
as I weaved my way through all these years--
but in the end I will only smile warmly
nod my agreement that "yes, I did,"
because in the end I can say nothing
there's no words to describe how I lived.

Thursday, January 12, 2012


three little birds
huddled on a tree

singing so merrily
of all that could be

then a black storm
clouded the meadow

and the earth fell
into sun's shadow

our three doves
knew not what to do

they forgot why
and whither they flew

their white feathers
soaked in the rain

will they ever
learn to fly again?

Wednesday, January 11, 2012


Romeo, thou art a bastard in love,
yester you adored me, today I am mud,
how sweetly you charmed, with your nice tokens,
only to leave me, sore and heart-broken,
better to chose clear, for better or ill,
instead of your jump to Juliette's sill,
for you are too concerned with the comely, 
lust at first sight-- you're blind to the beauty
that never will blight-- it comes from the soul,
and such perfections will never grow old,
like living a life that's holy and chaste,
love that does not throw your short life to waste,
as long as you follow your smaller mind,
you'll not know the joy of immortal bind,
         and though I have heard you may have tied knots,
         such passion so quick will lead you to naught.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

into the sea

I have been given so many a precious thing
like opals and rubies, haircombs and rings 
metal musicboxes which so sweetly do sing
butterflies and sparrows, with delicate wings
and it seems as if my life would be fit for a king--

but if it were all to fall into the sea,
well ... that would not bother me

Indeed, so many a special thing do I own
like mechanical wonders, in the style of a phone
eyelashes and toenails, and pretty well shaped bones
credit cards and bank statements, as long as a tome
and with such marvels I might never feel alone--

but if it were all to fall into the sea,
well... that would not bother me

For, I have been given so many a priceless thing
like laughter and friendship, and the joy that they bring
prayers and a purpose, with such lofty meanings
a lingering thirst to sip from His crystal springs
and above all the love of that one true King--

and if this were all to fall into the sea,
well ... now that would bother me

Monday, January 9, 2012


I watch this world 
                through bionic eyes
I pulse from a bionic heart
       I think with a bionic mind
and now my time 
                is but bionic time
   as the mechanical world
                   conjoins    with     mine

Sunday, January 8, 2012

quiet moments

I'm grateful for these quiet moments
when heartbeat is the only sound

although in the stillness I still am broken
to this selfish bondage I still am bound

but it's there my silenced soul reopens
when noisome noise does not abound

and as long as I am on this earth awoken
this sweetest solace will I circle round

Saturday, January 7, 2012


is not equality
where everyone can say
the same for you, 
is the same for me.

is truly equity,
where everyone can say
they will get
what they need.

still I struggle
I battle with enmity
when I see that someone has
that for which I plead. 

will my lovesick heart
learn that "I want"
does not necessarily mean
"I need"?

will my dizzy heart
stop yearning after yonder
and be grateful for what
she sees?

Thursday, January 5, 2012


We follow the links
just searching for a laugh
a singer's broken tone
a keyboard playing cat
and how long we do spend
watching other people's lives
while we let our own ends
merely wither and dry.

I want to cross oceans
I want to swim in seas
and I'm sick of all this joking
while sutured to my seat
When will we stop poking,
jeering at another's fate?
For life out there's so open,
but all we seem to do is wait. 

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

a trifle

It's time for a trifle
a bit of good fun,
been far too insightful
now I'll be dumb:

Found out I'm allergic to gluten
for it gets me all a pukin'
so I can't eat cake and croutens
and can't chew what you're cookin'
'cuz it's even in salads and soupin' 
but I know just what I'll do, then
see, I gotta just true eschew them



Oh come on,
you can't expect wisdom in every line.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

The blustery world below

Little angel, if you're ill
come sit on this sill
right by my trusty window,
and hear my short spiel
on how to stay still
in the blustery world below.

I'll tell you to hold on
when the winds are so strong
be like a reed, true hollow,
for then will your song
match the gusts going on
you'll harmonize with those harsh blows.

For yourself must you spill
and accept the winds' Will
only then will you truly know,
what it means to see real
and not just what you feel
and how these tests will come and go.

And when the day is true done
you'll see that you've won
by casting out what did not flow,
for soon will the sun
reach beyond this long dawn
and illumine the heart of every pure soul.

Monday, January 2, 2012


Photo Credit: Sprinkled with Charm

This seat is our loveseat
here our two hearts may hug
and far off from the mainstreet
we're freed from the hub bub
they can have their parties
they can have their clubs
it's here our souls can true meet
lounged upon this lambskin rug--
and secret in our en suite
the stressors there we'll shrug
for the silence seems so sweet
when you're lazing with the one you love.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

I beg your forgiveness

"Ma'am, I do beg your forgiveness,"
said the man with outstretched hand,
"For my troubles are a worrisome,
my heavy heart weighs but a gram,
and tho' I dreamed of making mountains,
I mislaid all my well-made plans."

And 'haps a forgiveness would I spare him,
if I, too, had not sown on barren land,
if I had not kept my expectations,
but got disappointment for demands,
so how could I a mercy grace him,
when I was akin to a starving man?

So there I shuffled swiftly by him,
'tho poorly avoiding his hungry glance,
and soon found a fine dime to dine in,
closeted from such froward tramps,
and assuring myself of my meager wallet
ordered some tea and sugar, some toast and jam,
thinkin' myself somewhat better
than the shape of what was that man.

But as I munched and outlined my dinner,
I remembered all those open hands,
that had granted graces I sought after,
that offered pardon when I was damned,
and so how could I deny a brother
the bit of forgiveness that I, myself, was lent?

So I scraped out from my scarcely coffer,
and gave my mercy to that grateful man,
and tho' he had naught to return the offer,
by giving, I received more than planned,
for by granting forgiveness I was forgiven,
I was freed from grudges' commands

And this is the story of forgiveness--
you are given more, when more you lend.