Alone, my thoughts, my fears envelop me.
Awake, asleep, at work — without you there.
I reminisce; the memories abound,
True, some have fled, but eyes yet see your face;
I still can smell your hair — your scent — your tea.
Category: licensing
I’ll Lie
If you ask me how I’m doing;
If you wonder how I’m feeling;
I will lie to you.
I’ll tell you I’m fine.
Things are going OK.
I might hint at the truth of the matter.
I might stumble through my words.
I might give you a half-truth.
I might give you a non-answer.
But I’ll probably never tell you the truth.
I’m not fine.
Things are not OK.
I’m drowning in fear and worry.
You probably ask because you care.
But I am not capable of believing it.
Because I don’t care. So how could you?
We are all conditioned to hear these questions as small talk.
We are all conditioned to respond in kind.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Fine, you?”
“Yeah, nothing much.”
…
Lovely Humanity
Look around, it’s easy to see
the worst parts of humanity.
You hear them spew hatred and fears,
suicide stories; few shed tears.
Hiding behind a shield of brass
makes it easy to kick some ass.
Now look again, more closely still:
see those who stand; sheer force of will.
I Got Your Back; Hands Up Don’t Shoot!
All of us share a common root.
A wall of love, support and trust.
So stand we all together must!.
There are no lesser people here
It’s time to put away your fear.
Be Where My Feet Are
Wherever I might go today;
It does not matter if I stay
Or walk or run or step in stride;
You come along; you’re right beside.
Wherever my two feet might land,
If tucked away or in my hand;
My phone ensures that in the end,
You are my omnipresent friend.
Until
Everything lasts “until”…
Iron rusts to dust,
Glass shatters to shards,
The Titanic met an iceberg.
Everything eventually expires.
Love, Life, Laughter.
Yes, everything expires.
Cold, Gold, and Mold.
So hold on to the precious… “until”
But know that even the pain will pass.
Effortless
studying Picasso I suddenly empathize
with those whom I generally criticize.
“stop pretending art is hard.”
“stop pretending. art is hard.”
artists make it seem so effortless
to craft a scene with cleverness.
“stop pretending art is hard.”
“stop pretending. art is hard.”
but when the truth is full well told
it takes some work to change shit to gold.
Myriad
My mind jumps to the cliché;
“Possibilities” and “endless” spring to my head unbidden.
Explore it more; think of the … DAMN! more clichés leap into view!
“Choices”, “Options”, “Possibilities” … no, No, NO!
a myriad of stars in the heavens…
the grains of sand on a beach,
NO! I will not use these trite clichés.
The problem presents itself as a solution:
There simply are not a myriad of ways
to conjure words to discuss the feelings “myriad” evokes.
DICHOTOMY
Fighting. Arguing. Who will win?
Quiet smiles, a twinkle of eyes.
Screaming, bickering, such a din!
Loving glance, cannot jeopardize.
he said she said take it out to the bike shed.
Let me in, I’ll let you win, can’t we be at peace again?
The Art of Asking
A statue spoke to me and said,
“Make art because you love it so,
Because without, you would be dead.
Give it for free, to those you know.
Also to those you don’t, my friend.”
Wise words she spoke to me that day,
“Give art away, your heart defend.
Just ask for it, and they will pay.”
Remember
Slipping Away, back into yesterday;
big hair, big hearts, the dream then falls apart.
Slipping Away. Back into Yesterday.
regret and pain for love once lost in vain.
Slipping. A way back, into yesterday.
what dreams become shattered by morning sun.
Remember this, Today is where we find our bliss.