I BELIEVE!

I tick the box,

I say the pledge,

I’m a believer,

Built upon the rock.

‘Course I don’t preach,

But at night I’ll pray,

At meals say grace,

Even tame my speech.

I know John 3:16,

I holiday the church,

I’m a believer,

On jesus christ I lean.

Look, I wear the cross,

Eighteen karat Gold,

Even love my neighbor,

a rule I’ve never lost.

What more do you want?

At death by him I’m saved,

This life is mine to live,

Give me not your daunt!

TAKE A BREATHER

Fallen deep into the depths of the pit,
I lay sprawled out on all fours,
Helpless like a naïve deer,
Caught in the cross arrows
Of Problem’s cocked rifle.

I wander out in the stinging cold
To escape the darkness into the night.
My eyes have become well acquainted
With the blackness around me.
The only light I ever see is the flick of
Grass rolled paper in my hand.

I clutch onto it, as if it is all I have.
With every exhale, I watch the
Puffing clouds twirl above my head.
Pensively, I look in. “What do they say?”
They come in magnificent shapes,
Unlike anything I have ever seen.
And then they fade away.

Inhale, exhale.

They resurface, just as wonderful
As their ancestors were.
It seems my only constant is the
Intangible, fading wisps of my breath.
But then I see them, flying upwards,
Racing to the sky, and then they’re gone.

Inhale, exhale.

They come back, this time
More eager than the last.
I can finally see: they’re leaving me
To join their other friends, high above in the sky.
I marvel at the thought.

Inhale, exhale.

They must have a home somewhere else,
Far greater than what I gave them.
Then my fingers burn as the
Paper reaches its end.
Then suddenly, my feet begin to move too,
Feet like the feet of a deer,
Just as the eager clouds before,
They race towards their home,
Wherever that may be.

Inhale, exhale.

My breaths start to quicken
While my strides lengthen.
I don’t stop nor look behind.

Inhale, exhale.

I am running from the gunman’s sights,
Over brush and chopped down trees.

Inhale, exhale.

I make it to the top of the mountain.

Inhale--

Alas: The Heights!

OUT BY NIGHT

Your boldness stands alone,
Torn among the wreck.
Absent of its beauty,
In splattered red blood specks.

Their gnashing teeth sink in,
Throats drowning in lust.
Your choking scent and sound,
These bloodhounds snarl and fuss.

You twirl your dress in bliss,
Tempts untouched from grip.
Fringe unworn by these tries,
The crimson stains each drip. 

Fornicate the future,
Throw away the past.
Forget the gift that’s given,
Sell your soul at last.

GOING ABOVE AND AHEAD

I awoke to the sound of 

Children screaming, dogs barking,

The sun’s light and the wind’s blowing

And I knew I had to travel,

For the day awake does not await

A poor man’s sleeping, sorry fate.

So I walked and I wandered far,

Cast the sails and quit my job,

Grabbed a tool and followed the stars.

I wasn’t sure if I would ever return or 

Find a cabin in the woods.

But maybe just maybe I wouldn’t 

Come back empty, but I’d come 

Back with foresight that’s real

And judgement that’s sober.

I haven’t mapped out the future nor

Considered the past, but

I have listened to my hearts cry,

To go and go do!

To love and let love!

To search and go find!

Therefore I will follow and I will wait

For journey’s waiting, resting face.

I CAN REMEMBER 

Oh the pain in memory!

The searing loss in gain,

How I wish I could remove it,

Or at least subdue its rays.

It haunts me and denies me

The joy of the present,

Restraining me back,

To the hurt of the past.

Leave me forever!

You poisonous vain,

You’ve had your part,

Now off the stage!

The perpetual sight

And resurfacing thoughts

Defile my conscience

From moving on.

In a final plea,

My wish isn’t much:

Just a feeling of not,

A mind stoic and numb.

SYMPHONY NO. FIVE, THIRD MOVEMENT

Misses Mockingbird, your song

Sways the trees and carries the wind,

Teases the grass and flounders the flowers.

Your chirp and tweet twitter in 

Harmony with the gleeful children

On the swinging teeter-totter.

The morning and evening air,

Whether by spring or by winter,

Echo your sound melodies that 

Wake a man from his restless sleep.

Your perfect pitch flutters your wings,

Proclaiming to me, a young fawn,

Of your beautiful, upright seat.

I hear your voice, I heed your call,

But why now and why here,

Must your jingle chatter resound

In orchestrated upheaval to my ears?

How often would our friends profit,

In awe from your lofty whisper.

They are guests to your concert,

Backup vocals to your song.

And I, the lonesome deer,

Am only a half note rest in your

Movement so long.

U-TURN

From busy roads and empty parking lots,

The nature of concrete streets and neon lights

Seems congruent with the patterns of life.

Daily, and almost as if routine,

Red cars, blue cars, and green alike

Travel great distances, North and South.

In the morning their white smoke

Joins the clouds in filling the air.

In the evening their bright lights

Join the stars in lighting the night.

Of all different sizes they drive,

Some two, mostly four, few eighteen,

Continuously over patches of grass

Protruding from the cracks in the road.

Each year, the median, which at first was

Home to many trees and many greens,

Shrinks as the size of the road

Widens and broadens in breadth,

So the many travelers can gas some more.

Perhaps the day will come,

When the frost and ice collect on my windows,

I ignore their cold presence because

I can no longer bear what I’ve seen,

Of busy roads and empty parking lots.