Making Sense of the Madness
Most of the time you fail, but it doesn’t mean you stop trying.
Sometimes the injustice weighs you down like the Mariner’s fabled albatross.
To simply take a step becomes the most difficult task you’ve ever faced.
Sometimes the evil overcomes you and you wish like Hell there was a literal Hell
As all your Christian friends fervently believe…
Admitting they have so much hate in their hearts that they wish ill for some not only across a single life span
But for eternity too.
And you realize that if such a place were real, it would assuredly have been constructed
For people like them.
Binge (2/26/96)
Penstroke, scribbling on the page—
Life is not a simple stage.
Predetermined before me.
Life is what’s ahead of thee.
Love and flowers, bliss, and joy—
I pull back because I am coy.
Wishing for a different view.
Wishing I knew what to do.
Wanting more than worldly chatter.
Insides churn, my brain—it rattles.
How can I abide the clamor?
How can I put down the hammer?
Pray for silence—then I cringe.
Boredom fills me, so I binge.
Death (1996)
"Please God," the little girl cried, "Don't let her die!"
Holding her mother's hand,
The child softly sobs on her unconscious mother's breast.
Enter: Death.
The child sees him immediately.
She confronts the cold, dark shadow:
"NO! You will not take my Mommy!"
The two battle one-on-one:
Death with its evil powers.
The child with her solemn prayers.
Death is not easily vanquished but he underestimates the young girl's will.
As quickly as it began the battle is over.
The young girl wins.
Mother awakens to see her child lying lifeless on the floor.
Earth in Iambic Pentameter
I know that once I write these words, their lives
At once, will both begin and start to end.
And no one will be digging through archives.
There likely won’t be be’ngs like us again.
We’ve made a mess impossible to mend.
And I can almost not endure the days.
Successive torture in a thousand ways.
A weight of knowledge of the things to come
Is saddled on my back for me to haul.
And even if alone, I’ll beat the drum
That we can’t live the lives we lead at all.
If we continue, surely we will fall.
And there will be much suff’ring in the end.
Our only home—on which we all depend—
See, I think Mother Earth has had her fill.
We’ve poisoned her for far too many years.
And she has started to exert her will.
We, humans, are a parasitic smear.
A stain across the planet—it is clear.
A mass extinction caused by human greed
The future’s catastrophic for our breed.
Fate's Dance
Painted black, her raven hair
In flowing rivers, painted her shoulders.
Cheeks-a-blush—a fullness there.
Her slate-grey eyes—two sullen boulders.
The darkness of ten thousand years—
But warmth to welcome tortured souls.
The envy of her jealous peers—
Perfection, but it's not the goal—
She dances here and there with grace.
Her lovely countenance aglow—
The look of longing on her face.
My heart begins to overflow.
I cut in to steal the dance.
Her eyes meet mine and then they smile.
Though we met by circumstance
Fate would have us dance awhile.
I Wrote You a Song
I wrote you a song today
Whispered it over the phone
Today was a Wednesday
Are you sick of being alone?
I’m tired of being the same
Of chances never taken.
Dreams of borrowed fame
From which I’ll never awaken.
And you out there, you see,
Just being and existing.
All I want to be
Is with you and persisting.
Tickle, Tickle Child
Tickle, tickle, child
You’ll be all grown-up one day.
The world will be your oyster;
You’ll have many games to play.
But what you will inherit may not
All be as it seems
The planet, see, is dying,
From humanity’s extremes.
You see, my child, our brains have gotten
Us in such a bind.
We think that we’re immortal—we think thar
Everything is fine.
But every day we’re dying
And we do not have a clue.
The environment is changing
And we don’t know what to do.
So tickle, tickle, child, one day
You’ll inherit this.
And good luck with the mending
As the ending goes to piss.