Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Time Wasted

This write is a lesson
intended for me
a reminder of sorts
of the way I should be

No target intended
it's not about you
unless that you find
this is something you do

My time being wasted
I return to spend more
with this one little wish
to even the score

To force you
into wasting your time
in a childish argument
by crossing the line

One with no last word
no truce to be found
repeating the same comments
till they're run into the ground

We move on to insulting
and give it our best
when the revenge of choice
should have been to give it a rest

I should be spending my time
going on with my life
than to fill every moment
riddled with strife

This not about you
it's all about me
not looking for payback
it's the way I should be

Monday, December 28, 2015

Poetry in the Outback

I've been told there is a canon
a set of rules you say
but in this year of 2015
so many have gone away

Forget about the meter
to hell with punctuation
for in this land of poetry
there is a brand new nation

There are those who don't want this to change
and for purity they do strive
please go on stick to canon
and keep your craft alive

But no two people are the same
we all have different tastes
and when a reader hates all one writes
it's his own time he wastes

Not everyone is out there
looking for that classic write
you see today it's like the outback
there are no rules, just right

Sunday, December 27, 2015

No Better Gift

Home for Christmas
I don't remember the last time
he's been away so long
sure he's been home for visits
they've been great
but seldom around the holidays
he's so much more of a man
than 22 years ago
seems we have to get to know each other
I can't imagine a better gift
than to have my son home

Friday, December 25, 2015

Forward into the Vortex

yet without direction
empty of purpose
empty of life
the spirit has left
my heart aches for love
does anyone care
it doesn't show
but how can I know for sure
if I don't look back
there is this feeling
that their eyes follow
do they watch as I pass
are they looking at me
or beyond to a destination of their own
are we all on the same path
has everything I have known
we've known
become a pit filled with nothingness
a complete void
that swallows any who dare desire
I long for a companion
one to pull me back from this vortex
maybe then this trek might seem tolerable
maybe then this darkness will abate
maybe then I can once again live

Sunday, December 20, 2015

There Is No Balance

They speak
never listen
their world
their minds
it must be
their way
without waver

They speak
never heard
their world
their needs
their hearts
their way
no longer

Monday, December 14, 2015


Judgment enslaves
living for that approval of others
denying our individuality
we put our self on the shelf
going out of our way
to escape their frown

we live in stress rather than comfort
the means to the end of their desires
becomes burdensome

why trample over my own desires
am I not worthy
of a life of joy
to be happy
should not my filling come first

how can I lift the spirit of another
when my own spirit
has become buried
beneath the judgment I am a slave to

please be not presumptuous to judge
not all are intended to walk your path
we must all find our own way

Sunday, December 6, 2015

That Christmas

There once was a Christmas at home
as kids we four spent it alone
see my mom broke her nose
as she tripped over her toes
and the truth of old Santa made known

The Song No Longer Rings True

The sky still blue and spacious
our fields grow golden grains
snow capped mountains
are still viewed in placid reflecting pools
fruits and nuts are upon our trees
but as for brotherhood between the seas
the good has become harder to find
our light has dimmed

They came seeking relief from religious oppression
only to convert and pervert what they found
their freedom meant
the abolishment of the ways of
the new world they had come to
with violence and death
taking more land
there was no self control
no liberty
no real law other than
might made right
for the new people did not honor their god
and were deserving of death

These were not heroes
they did not liberate the peoples of this new land
they showed no mercy
there was nothing noble or divine in their treatment
not of the peoples
nor of the lands that they found

They had a dream
of great alabaster cities
built them
but today
these are filled with empty dilapidated buildings
the homeless
and the violence that built them
tears run down the cheeks
of mothers and fathers losing their sons and daughters
tears are shed by the victims
of the religious extremism that was seeded in those early times

How can we continue to sing America The Beautiful?