If I were a man with but one choice
and held this moment true,
would I book the next flight out
or choose to stay with you?
 
I’m waiting with baited breath,
to hear the words you say.
Will they anchor me to where I stand
or push me far away?
 
I see it in your face,
the anger that you bear,
wrestling with those troubling words,
that only you can hear.
 
Your silence now is broken
with words you need to say.
They hold the air like dense, gray fog,
as I begin to pray.
 
Your words are mixed and troubling,
they fall hard against my ears.
They unsettle me, I am unarmed,
they bring me almost to tears.
The words you say,
weigh heavily on my mind,
one sound bite at a time,
they cross that sacred line.
 
Choose your words carefully
don’t be pit bull cruel.
Your anger is all about me,
it has nothing to do with you.
You can slice it or dice it,
I’m not your broken mule,
don’t beat me over the head
with a dirty garden tool.

How cruel!
How cruel!

Don’t let them get to you
Chill, let it go
You’re letting them wear you down
They’re stripping the innocence from your soul
They’re grinding you into the ground

You best look in the mirror
Cleanse the grime from your face
Take some time and calm yourself
It’s time to leave their cruel rat race

This world is not a gentle place
It doesn’t care who’s left behind
Your beauty carries you through the day
But the nights, they’re not so kind

Chill, let it go
Shake it off like newly fallen snow
Don’t let the trials of the day bore into you
Or peel your armor away
Stand firm, and never leave room to doubt
That you were true to yourself at the end of each day

You’re trying too hard, much too hard
To show how strong you are
You needn’t be who you’re not
Don’t let anyone put you in a box
You are gentle-spirited, pure of mind
With a sense for a life and a desire for fun

The world can be a tough place
With millions of people all about
Running to and fro in a crazy rat race
Just to be heard you must often shout
It’s made you want to hide
So, you’ve built up your walls
You’ve locked yourself inside
It’s hard to break through
You don’t let me enter, I don’t have a clue

We weren’t meant to be alone
With no one to care and greet us at home
You’re my love, you’ll always be
There’s nothing more to be said
I wrap myself in the comfort of your arms
And accompany you to bed
But, the morning came too quickly
 I woke up and you were gone
A note on the pillow left me feeling a bit sickly
“The world’s taken a bite out of me,
I’ll not see you again, it’s time for me to move on
Chill, let me go”

You tell me you don’t love yourself,
you said, your head’s in the clouds,
that you can’t catch a breath of clean air.
I’m sorry but I just can’t help you here.
 
You’re too hard on yourself
you need to give yourself a rest
there’s just no reason to push as hard as you do.
Everything is not a test.
 
It’s not you against the world,
no, that’s not the truth, you see.
You’ll never, ever be alone
as long as your world has me.
 I can’t cure all your ills
I never promised that I could.
I’m just as vulnerable as you;
where you stand now, I once stood.
 
Pull back your shoulders, grab a deep breath
ponder your future, not what you’ve left.
As the sun replaces the moon, never failing to shine,
I tell you, you’ll be alright, yes, you’ll be just fine.
 
You tell me that you don’t love yourself,
you said you’re anxious
pushed over by the slightest of winds,
constantly falling to a plethora of tears.
Don’t think for one minute your words fall on deaf ears.
 
I can’t cure what’s ailing you,
only you hold that power.
I’m trying to do the best I can
I don’t have my head buried in the sand
I will never leave you; I’ll be your strong tower.
 
These feelings that you’re trying to hide,
surrender them, cast them aside.
You are safe here with me, let your true self show.
Silence the lies and let love for yourself flow.
You’re worth all the love, I can give you
believe me I know, I know, yes, I know.

He lives with a poet in his head.
He didn’t hear one word you said,
he plays to an audience of a different kind
his words, thoughtful and full blown
layer one over another, like seeds being sown.
They fall into phrases that capture them all
as he scrambles to pen them in his harried scrawl.
 
He saunters around
his feet not quite on the ground.
I see him mostly at night, all around the town
going who knows where,
preoccupied with an eerie stare.
He walks like a man possessed
his thoughts kept guarded, close to his chest.
 
The witching hours, those few everyday
when he just needs to break away,
find him wandering about to sort things out
and deal with the clutter in his head.
Not a word to anyone has he said;
quietly snuffed out like a flame,
he disappears back whence he came
 
He lives with a poet in his head.
He sees things through a different lens
everything spins around
his thoughts, one must admit, quite profound.
It often keeps him up at night,
the fear he won’t get it just right,
that something might get away
an errant word, a brilliant lyric
verses that simply won’t obey.
He has a story to tell, words woven with magic,
sprinkled with wisdom, told in good time.
And though he likes to, his words, they need not rhyme.
 
He’s been gifted with a poet’s voice
it’s a burden of his choice,
Tens of thousands of words put down on paper
though some days he still feels like an impersonator.
How ridiculously absurd
when he can’t find the words.
Roses are red, violets are blue…
these aren’t words that’ll make a poet out of you.
Words that capture his thought and let the world in on it,
that grab listeners and to another place transports.
The voice in his head whispers, ‘you think you’re a great poet
but alas my friend, I think you’re not!’
 
He mixed his words today
but should have voided them, those that got away.
Truthful, foolish words that should never have found the air.
He should have paused a moment, perhaps offered a prayer.
Words carry tremendous weight
dispensed without wisdom, can unleash a cruel fate.
 
The poet is rendered idle.
There are no words.
How absurd, how absurd.

When laughter fails
I will walk the contour of the road
the short three miles
to where the ocean ebbs and flows.
Where for centuries it has
carved a crater in the sand and stone
growing deeper each day
exposing the under belly of the thinking rock
as it recedes with great surge to open waters.
 
When laughter fails
I will seek the highest northern peak
alive with an afghan of colors as fall sets in
stretching my mind and body as I reach to the sky.
I know that somewhere in time
everything and everyone will be one
that I will again be united
with those loved ones who have passed before me
into the absolute surrendering of all worldly fears.
 
When laughter fails
I will revisit the words I spoke to her
words that fell from my lips to her ears
bonding us forever
realizing how lucky I am to hear the words I said
and how lucky I was to hear them as she did.
Meeting me halfway to where we have gone together
not alone anymore
we hold hands as the sun falls and melts into the night
beckoning tomorrow.
 
When laughter fails
I will look into the lessons to be learned
with a more discerning eye.
I’ll get back on life’s horse again
and ride to my destiny
smiling through my sorrows
surrendering to the awe of life’s inevitability
knowing full well
there’s a quiet belly laugh on the other side of it.

I’ve seen their anguish
I’ve seen them cry
I’ve seen them stare life down
right in the eye.
 
I’ve seen them fight for their family
and work hard for its good name.
We’ve seen them put liars to roost
and cheaters to shame.
The greatest Country of them all,
America, is the same.
 
There’s just no pair we love more,
whose growls we love to hear
they’re the den mother and den father of us all
they’re our momma and papa bear.
 
The forest is deep and thick
a cub could lose its way.
The things they hear in school
are opposite of what their parents say.
They’re confused, as confused can be
but at days end, they needn’t be.
 
Parents know what’s best for their cub
they’re the calm in the midst of all the hubbub.
Their thoughts, wisdom and teaching
are wrapped up in in a mountain of love
and guided by a plethora of prayers from above.
 
There’s just no pair we love more,
whose growls for those who need to fear, we love to hear.
They’re the den mother and den father of us all,
they’re our momma and papa bear.

You no longer can pass the buck
Looks like you ran out of luck
Most people are burned out to the nines
The world’s pressing in
We feel naked as sin
We’re looking for a glimmer of hope
 
So, I call out in the dark
You can hear evil’s vicious bay
The words over and over, again I’ll say
A frantic call, I need to tell it all
 
Is there a hero amongst us?
One who can break from the pack
One who’s able to separate us from the chaos
which tries to hold us all back
 
Is there a hero amongst us?
One who seeks to carve the way
 to a righteous understanding
that each of us seek today
 
I don’t seem to have found that hero amongst us
Even those who say they are, have failed to be
Maybe the hero I’m looking for
Is the hero deep within me
 
Maybe, I shouldn’t look to others
to show me the way to live the life
I dream about every night and everyday
Why do I keep searching for a hero?
The ones I found have undoubtedly let me down
Maybe I should look deeper within myself
Perhaps that’s where a hero can be found
 
No need to be the strongest or the most wise
Just be the person amongst us
who can live life without deception and lies
One who looks at the glass of life as half full
Who sees the silver lining in every cloud
Who easily navigates life’s ebbs and flows
Who’s not prideful but empowered by all that they know
Who is tenacious and always finds a way
 
The hero I’m looking for
has the ability to give love in its purest form
Love all others as themself
and never cause anyone a bit of harm
 
It seems that I can’t find a hero amongst us
and even those who say they are, have failed to be
Maybe the hero that I’m looking begins right here, with me

It was his castle within his house,
a chair he appropriated only to himself.
A safe haven from us all,
a safe haven from the world,
tattered and torn, it had a life all of its own.
 
My father’s chair was his space, his place,
his time to wrap himself up in his thoughts
unencumbered by the presence of us all,
in a house ever too small.
A moat around it kept him out of reach.
 An invisible barrier no one dared to breach,
or a different man they would greet.
One they would not recognize; one they would not like to meet.
Whatever it was that danced in his head,
the entangled highway his memories fed,
he kept far from his family, thoughts he never said.
They were still too near for his liking, lurking like a bear,
as he looked out from his fortress, as he looked out from his chair.
 
Like many of the men of his generation who fought in the war,
my father was world worn his innocence now obscure.
He loved his children, our safety he vowed to maintain.
His beloved wife understood too well, he was forever a changed man.
Although a belly laugh occasionally escaped him,
it was laced with something more, something grim.
His family and most friends couldn’t understand
the constant nightmares and unreasonable fear that kept him bound.
His battle was invisible, but he’d experienced it all first hand.
As he sat in his chair, he never let it show,
his constant wrestling his demons to the ground.
He never wanted us to know.
 
Not formerly educated, my father was well read;
A tradesman who worked with his hands but always used his head.
Our hero could be quiet and stormy, but never violent.
To me, he was nothing short of brilliant,
Sitting in his chair, I can just see him right now,
 a wreath of smoke from his cigarette, hovering over him like a halo.
I think of my father often, he left us years ago.
With each passing day, I feel I know him better,
and understand the man, whose presence is always at my center.
His example shines a light
as I wrestle in the day to day, trying to get it right.
 
It was his castle within his house,
a chair he appropriated only to himself.

The lines furrow deeply on my face
and go to a destination unknown.
​The lines of sorrow have significantly grown
because life’s challenges piled on.
There is nothing to smooth them out,
to make the furrows gone.
Then there are those happy lines
from times that brighten my smile.
They used to come frequently
but now, only once in a long while.
There should be more of them
but regrettably there’s not.
Some of my happiest times
unfortunately, I’ve forgot.
Then there are those other lines
random ones, that complete my facial map.
These furrows are a pattern
that every morning surprise me.
A man much older than I am
in the mirror, is the man I now see.
As I look back anxiously
my youthful skin is gone.
It slipped away as the years passed by
and the hollows piled on.
But every line has a story
that can be proudly told.
I hope to reflect on all of them
before I get too old.
When I was a young man
the mirror was very kind.
I used to stare at myself quite a bit,
I thought I looked divine.
I am an older man, older by many years
and my face now shows the map of my life,
my hopes, my loves, my tears.
It may look like a quagmire scaled to the nines,
 but as I look back over all my years,
 I think that that’s just fine.