I am not these words,
These cryptic phrases
And made-up themes;
I am not these which you read,
Hear, or listen to. I am not
Who these pictures, painted,
Show. I am not who you
Believe I am; though, I
Use these words to
Describe who I am not
And, therefore, state
Quite plainly who I am.
Posts published in “Poems”
Jesus, your love keeps me sane. Your
Life led me to be a better human being.
I longed to be Your equal,
Though You know I was not sent
As You were; I see that now,
Though know You would
Appreciate the efforts to be
A better human being with
You as a role I wished to be.
I and You,
Walking along pavement To
Be a Blessing in One Other’s Stream.
In some store’s parking Lot,
I and You, bleed to be Another’s
Angel, so-to-speak, And
An Approving Ear to hear Lives
Not many times spoken To
Stranger, who they know Not.
how often we see a sad day
and think, “tomorrow ‘ll be
better. tomorrow ‘ll be a
different day.” well, why
not today? why not this
time we have right now
to be the ones to say, “i
will make a difference.
i am standing right now
to say to you, ‘BE cheerful,
for we have now to be
more than we ever were/
just don’t let your eyes
drop, keep them raised
and seeing ahead to all
that waits those willing
to know there is more.'”
Make your sounds!
Let me play a word
Off the noise
You’ve made and heard!;
Though a thousand
Times repeated,
There is much
Vocabulary to proceed
Until the throat is dry
Or eyes stay shut one
More minute than should be;
Ah!, what sanctuary!
Doot-da-aaah-doot.
is it worth
the time to be
everything to everyone
but me?
i never saw myself
as anything more than
some writer you learned of
long after i ‘d expired.
maybe that’s the hardest part
of knowing/not whether you’
ll see these words some day far
or they’ll be recounted at gravesite
and forgotten soon after, like
a tombstone’s sentence and time’s
embrace, a dissipation of
all that once existed, seen
, but memory is only so that
even it gives in when loosened
hold, holding fast, slows.
I can just imagine:
Singing the same song, two-three
Times a week, wailing away in
Practice between performances;
And all over someone that still
Matters when counting blessings
And thinking of what once was;
A sad song being lived by a singer
Who can’t forget the lyrics, no.
She looks right through
Whatever facade I use
To hide a lack of preparation.
But, you learn by action
And never know until
She looks right through you.
I want to end there, but
Some force calls me
To be righteous for a change.
Without a chance to be
More than me, I
Lie awake and seem to fall.
When in spiraled dream,
I slide amongst rain,
Seeing the world tipsy-crazy.
I can’t stop thinking of that night
We danced amongst the dishes
And used the kitchen as a ballroom;
A couple twirls and attempted dips
Bringing the freshness of your smile
To our feet, firmly planted while
Floating on a tiled floor that didn’t
Know it’d see the laughter of dancers,
Or their follies.
Looking back as though
A good friend wrote all of these
Little memories, allowing me
To appreciate the small things
I may one day still forget again.
I once forgot myself at the counter of
A convenience store, remembering
Only when I was halfway outside the
Door leading in to where I once was.