Lady bug Lady bug
My, you are so small
Yet, you cast a shadow
Upon my kitchen wall
It makes me think my frame of mind
Can sometimes be so shallow
And that is when I’m wee enough
To fit inside that shadow
Lady bug Lady bug
What if you should fall
Where am I to go
When I do not stand so tall?

Wise man say
It is much easier
To practice acceptance
Of the world’s imperfection
Within the silence of meditation

There are mornings
Upon my awakening
When a new day’s been granted
And it’s there for the taking
I assemble myself
From bad parts off a shelf
My house of cards stands
But not without shaking

Always in the back
of things
Behind a curtain
A shadow
A silhouette
Never blowing a horn
There was no horn to blow
no air in the lungs
no will in the legs
to play and march
in a parade

Let there be only
loving words spoken
so another harsh cycle
be beautifully broken
To free a generation
from a circle of pain
that it may soon wash off
in a cool cleansing rain
of tears so long sought after

In a field
Of senoritas
Dancing in the sun
I saw their smiles
Among the sunflowers
Before their dance was done

Whisper what you want of me
How much longer can I wait?
My hearing really is quite good
Though I don't always see so straight
I sit beneath a starry night
Listening for a sign
But alas
More hours pass
Seem like a waste of time
Whisper what you want of me
I grow tired of the wait
I want to know the secret
Before it is too late
Whisper what you want of me
For I do not see
If the question is aimed above
Or is it aimed at me

If God watches this weary world
through the eyes of birds
Are their heads bowed
in the rain
of his unspoken words?

Let's take a drive
up to the mountains
where no one can find us
at least for the day

Rest in the arms
of slumbering giants
'til a breeze
from the trees
softly asks us to stay

Wind blows
through the carcass
of an old ship run ashore
It beckons her ghosts
to board once more
She's sad
and she's lonely
in a harbor of sand
and her decks need the company
of those old scurvy hands

How dull the instrument of alcohol
In service of emotional pain
For come the dawn
the effect is gone
and the wolf is at the door again

Oblivious
to their despair
it roams the house
without a care
It's in the clothes
and on the dishes
All against
their sincerest wishes
and as the kids
come through the door
the ******* plague
falls to the floor
This war on dirt
cannot be won
and the keeper's job
is never done

There was a time
When he dwelled
In the spacious house
That was once her heart
And now there is not
One small room left
For him to occupy

Put a little faith
In your ballast each day
Your sailing should be smoother
Though your boat may still sway
Calmly observe
The lesser losses and gains
It may help you weather
Greater stresses and strains
Most storms don’t have the power
To wash you away
Pray for all in this world
And let come what may

Delusion is born
in the mind's desperate attempt
to escape confusion

Though bad times
can crawl like a tortoise
and good times
race like a hare
Indifference will always
run last in a race
when there’s no motive
or reason to care

Say goodbye
to the days of summer
as we ponder Autumn’s waking
It’s warm memories
fall from the trees
forgotten until Spring’s remaking

When I wake I wonder
What the day will bring
Will my heart run silent
Or will it choose to sing
Will I sense the tragic death
Of yet another day
Or feel enough true gratitude
To kneel to God and pray
Will I find the joie de vivre
To take life as it goes
Or see my reflection frowning
At the world and all its woes

A violin
for a single flower
Cellos for all
the gray barren trees
An orchestra
and it’s infinite power
for an ‘Ode to Joy’
to set the world at ease

Fear and Rage
Brother to brother
Whenever they awaken
One says to the other
What kind of suffering
can we cause today?
That’s when one hears
the other one say
I just love the smell of ******
in the morning

There are some mornings
upon my awakening
A new day’s been granted
and it’s there for the taking
I assemble myself
from bad parts off the shelf
My house of cards stands
but not without shaking

In the early spring
when flowers bloom
the daffodils dance
by the light of the moon
Their time is short
yet dance with glee
for the night can’t own them
and they will always be
children of a rising sun

They are the young innocents
unspeakably betrayed
who walk in paths of darkness
not knowing where they have strayed
Products of childhood trauma
built from assembly lines
of dreadful family dysfunction
that left them far behind

There is no strength in cruelty
It is an ugliness with only weakness
as it’s base
An unsightly reflection
of damaged people causing more harm in defense of their open wounds

How pale the days
without love
No color to their memories
and tomorrow but a sketch
of a painting not yet started

There was this dream
of the trouble he would see
in death
as he had seen in life

But the sight of his ghost
disturbed him the most
as it hacked
at its chains
with a knife

Silly hearts
****** toons
and goofballs
make light of all that is heavy
for us
and won't leave
a bucket of tears
without a barrel full of laughs
for balance

A young monk
eager to show his peers
the depth of his devotion
embarks on a long fast
After 12 days
he believes he has proven
worthy of respect
but, he finds no acknowledgement of his act
Discouraged, he goes to the abbot to tell him his tale of woe
After a long silence the abbot speaks
“Is it sacrifice for the good
of one’s soul
when no food is taken
from a full bowl?
Or is it martyrdom
thick with need
wrongly mistaken
for a sanctified deed?”

Hang your troubles
on the Tree of Sorrows
Look for ones
to steal or borrow
Then step around
the tree again
grateful
that another’s pain

is not your own

How ironic the insight
that my mind
spends much of it’s time
blind
to the reality that it is
stuck in the head
which is stuck up the ***
of a blundering fool

Winter follows
The long bow of a cello
And all in it’s realm
Must play to it’s tempo
As the last of the leaves
Fall to the ground
And trees must wear
This season’s white gown
All God’s creatures
Ready for sleep
And the peace of their slumber
Is the cello’s to keep

Criticism of oneself
Is often the harshest
Do unto you
As you would have others
Do unto you

The azure blue
of an infinite sky
is dotted with soft white pillows
The cool, clear water
of meandering streams
runs amidst the oaks and willows
These fields of dreams
that sway in the wind
are painted with a tint of gold
They wave at me
as I go by
for me alone to behold
God is at work
God is at work
Don’t wake me up
It’s God at work

I'm unarmed man
dancing in the street
to the tune of a gun
fired at my feet
I cannot stop moving
for if I do
I'll see my pride leaking
from a ****** shoe

He walked the hill into the evening
until he reached the top
The moon was serenading him
so he took the time to stop
to look upon a lonesome tree
that had not been there before
Neath the light
of a starry night
like the painting
he so adored
He whispered a tiny heartfelt prayer
for those in town below
that had likely lived their lives
never having seen the show

... and hidden from the world
     where most cannot see
     a boiling cauldron of madness
     the trouble that is me

      when the dark times come
       I seethe at light's absence
       then rage at God
       for his apparent indifference....

Who are you actor?
Who are you really?
Indeed, you perform well
Yet, the question’s not silly

When the smile of a clown
Thinly veils a deep frown
Its disturbing façade
Makes the blood run chilly

Look at how they walk the street
with heavy hearts of stone
Victims of an unhappiness
that has crept into their bones

Now they step with a crooked gait
and usually alone
the sounds they make
are but life's complaints
disguised as grunts and groans

Father, tie a ribbon
To an old oak tree
That will let me know
You’re still waiting for me
Don’t let the ugly past
Turn your love away
Please don’t forsake me
Because I went astray

If you choose to take a turn
Down that old oak lane
Find a branch that you can reach
Absolve me from the pain
Of regretful memories
And so much that has passed
Let me trade them for a ribbon
So I can come home at last

The benefit of occupation
and the company of peers
or solitary confinement
in a house of mirrors

Sometimes it seems to me
that the world walks
with a big limp of hypocrisy

Addiction is the chili
we put in our eyes
to make us to forget
about the splinters
in our feet
If only we were more like elephants

Many an unfinished project
began with the impractical
pursuit of perfection

I sincerely wish
I could blame the flesh
for the weakness of my mind
and in the end
I could depend
on my Judge to be so kind

“I have to look for your father”
We’d hear our poor mother say
When he had little fear
Standing on the great pier
During a storm on the bay

When father had the Black Irish
We’d hear our poor mother pray
"God, keep him off the **** pier"
When bad weather is near
So the sea can’t wash him away

How much of the truth
must be missing
before it is seen as a lie?
You can bathe it and dress it
Maybe make it smell nice
But, a pig always lives in a sty

Blessed are the butterflies
that brighten ugly walls
They bring a little sunshine
to where there’s none at all
The flutter of their spacious wings
chase the clouds away
that prey upon the innocence
of an unsuspecting day

Geez Louise
I’ve been brought to my knees
Gripped by some evil
besieged by fried cheese
Enduring the upset
as best as I can
If only the stuff
had stayed stuck in the pan!

The grandfather clock
in my grandmother’s house
stood silent in a corner all day
But, sometimes at night
it would grow in height
and I’d run before it had something to say

How difficult the lives
of those who spend
much of adulthood
searching for the parts of themselves
lost in an embattled childhood
and once found
assembling those jig-sawed pieces
into what was thought never to be whole