Sex, size, color and age
All are things we instantly gauge
All depending on our points of view
Seven billion, give or take a few
Hair, clothes, face an eyes
All are things we choose to disguise
All dependent on another’s view
But just one decides and that’s you
Stereotypes, media-hypes, everybody’s taking swipes
Each one sharing in each other’s gripes
Yet share we must to survive
While still we share, being alive
Some days I feel big, some quite small
Some days I feel like nothing at all
Some days high and some are low
Some days I don’t know where to go
Some days I go left to find it’s not right
Or think I’m right and circle all night
This ride I’m on just won’t quit
Strapped in a chair, obedient I’ll sit
When spinning fast I’m often amused
Till winding down and feeling used
Atop the wheel, enjoying the view
Seeing all when they can’t see you
Spectators surround everywhere I see
The invisible clown is how they see me
Then a dash for the gate – almost there!
Anxious for home, strapped safe in my chair
Time to Kill –
Context says it all
Time to rest or to perform
Or leave people still
Zero Truth –
To not quantify
Is to never justify
Just living a lie
Zero Logic –
If zero is best
And more is worse, then why’s there
Even a question
Summer days of long ago
Carefree times we all know
Pollen tickles our little nose
Grass tickles our little toes
Morning dew make footsteps glisten
The birdies make us stop and listen
Morning knocks on the old screen door
Weekend swims with friends at the shore
Afternoons spent being lazy
Evening sunsets being crazy
Chasing fireflies into the night
Kept in a jar for a magic nightlight
Then off to bed to dream of tomorrow
Waking with screams of death and sorrow
My firefly’s magic all died overnight
Now haunted am I by the sting of their light
I woke up dreading my pen today
Everything’s good, I’ve nothing to say
The sky is blue, the grass is green
Prettiest day I’ve ever seen
I’m sure if I try I could bum myself out
I could yell and scream and swear and shout
I could read the news, that’ll do it, no doubt
I could stare at the floor and see it needs grout
I could stare in the mirror and discover new spots
The closer you look you’ll find lots and lots
Or ignore everything just a little bit longer
Postponing these pressures until I’m stronger
No earth. No trees.
No trees. No pulp.
No pulp. No paper –
for poets to sculpt.
No earth. No home.
Nowhere to roam.
No time left to moan and groan.
No one wants to die alone.
No one wants this to be.
This to be the world’s last poem.
Altitude is a
Height we soar, attitude is
our desire for more