Easy Good-byes
As the children filter out the door, hesitating,
They ask if I will be back saying he or she will be if I am,
Can’t wit till next year when I can be looked up to,
She walks out my door. I cry,
Once thought we’d be longer,
But we are no more.
It’s a blip on the map
Did this relationship mean anything.
Why was I made this way?
To say goodbye so easily and look away?
You give your creativity away
You give your creativity away–
burning our apathetic, cynical twigs,
consuming our Neronian underbrush.
After droughts and our sowing of sorry saplings,
You give us images that have already been used "like wildfire"
But are necessary as eating bread and
important as blood circulation.
Let your creativity circulate.
Ignorance is Shoveling
Will I ever run out of analogies of your love?
I guess I will when I actually see your face,
face to face.
Why do I need to talk to you down here?
Don’t you know what I feel? You know everything?
The deeper I dig out of the center of this earth
That has buried this soul, "Onward toward the sky!"
The more questions I ask.
I forget where I have come from and where I’m going.
A wondering wanderer. What to do?
Please smack me across the face like a bad date
So I’ll wake up and remember what’s been given to me;
What’s been ignored by me:
An elephant is in the room on his hands and knees serving me,
And I look out the window wishing for a better place.
Seeds, Fields and Crop Circles
Lord, let me leave hints of my struggles and revelations
more obvious than crop circles– in their minds.
may tongue salivate when you are on my mind and on its tipmayy
So that I may irrigate the drought-ridden fields
But not make them hydroponic farmers.
For the workers are few and hearts are plenty,
Hearts who glean fields for grains of hope.
Searching for any nourishment that cannot be eaten,
starving for a reason to live:
to wake up on a dark, winter morning of frosted vegetation,
And say I love You and you.
Like a moose in the Sahara
Like a moose in the Sahara,
Dropped into un-loving arms; thirsty for love.
Would you love me if I joined Lucifer’s local cult or
Burned a cross in your churchyard?
Maybe, no? You wouldn’t know,
Haven’t been there and never ask what I do
I’ve learned to say nothing
unless I plant my feet to dodge a fist.
Now I’m powerful and faster?You slower.
Can’t control me; Now, never will.
If I said I liked a man?
Would you despise me like those who aren’t like you?throw your baby and trash onto the curb letting his friends take care
Because they do care.
I’d rather call them mom and dad anyway; do a better job any day.
You already have a full-time job.
You office needs a goodnight hug every night,
I scream I will not be you as I throw family portraits against my apartment wall.
I will not stand in your shadow but my childhood
Stains my mind worse than the blood on my shirt.
I hate and am angry
I want to spread me over the people like butter on bread
If only things were from 3rd person, I wouldn’t have to keep running
From my nightmares that scare
Me into submission
But I can overcome them,
Dial a collect call to the ultimate intercessor
I love You more than I hate them.
I cry when I consider how bad I’ve been
How bad they’ve been and I hate and am angry
at me and them.
Pointing fingers at drunken frats and raping dads
That are so rampant and stupid I cannot keep track
I am buried in grief. Resurrect me. Please.
I think I can make it here on the hell on earth that is earth.
Daisy
The river of downpour picks up the trash, carrying it away
Room for one daisy sprouting from the cold, careless concrete.
They pass under her nurturing shadow of care
where they see the Son brightly, recognizing
warmth in our blind alleys and sewer spouts.
I, the beggar, not knowing direction
Long for a home far away as
rain pelting down on the cardboard above
turning my mind to the question of home.
If home is where the heart is, set my place at your table.
I love to feel her foliage around me,
lost in her sunny, smiling face
stemming from above the skyline.
For mine erodes with time,
but she shines bright again and again.
Did something worth doing
When you find you did something worth doing;
An inkling that what you did mattered–just once that
You’re lacking, always will be
No matter the friends you make,
or self-help books you read, wives you take, masks you shed, rules you break.
Complete in your incompleteness:
Spreading your molecules infinitely into the universe.
Invincible!
But you are not.
Wouldn’t think for the half second you were.
Self-imposed busy signal
Every time I commit a crime, I do twice.
I separate with a busy signal
Self-imposed by selfish me:
Never praying, as if there isn’t anyone up there.
I will not let Him appear.
The rebellious pain sears my face again
as water rolls down dripping from my chin.
I want to begin. . . and begin. . . and begin. . .
Will I ever master my lust and arrogance
Or continue to taint my cerebrum with wicked incense?
I will win with more of You
Asking for my daily food
and less of me in me which is fine
because I desire more You in my design.
007 – License to Lie
We’re all idiots next to you, James,
& your Hollywood ways, naive to think they’re British–
Your wit often extricate you and girl from explosions–
Traveling from Russia with Love into a her arms
That squeeze tightly between gasps for air off camera:
Only temporary; never lasting to the next roll of 35 (mm)
T.B.S. is more thankful than the people you save,
Showing your escapades twice a year.
How long will viewers Bond with your sauve-ness,
and your picayune-ness — your lies.