bury me
neath the old oak tree
or an open field
if you feel the need
or leave me lay
where you found me
on the day
you bury me

bury me
in a pauper's grave
or a rich man's plot
on any given day
either way
would be okay
I'd have no say
where you bury me

bury me
along a straightened path
so, I can see
what lays ahead
six feet deep
my final rest
that is all
that needs be said
when you bury me

I owe, I owe it's off to work I go
The debt is piling up the dollars come so slow

It looks like I took a turn for the worse
I hit a fork in the road and come down with
some kind of voodoo curse

These monetary blues I do detest
They've taken away my happy-go-lucky
and put me under house-arrest

My muse she flew out the door and is on-the-run
Screaming over her shoulder, it ain't a crime to be unhappy
but it isn't any fun

I owe, I owe, it's off to work I go
The debt is piling up and the dollars come so slow

Action speaks louder than words
I beg to differ
Ideas start out as words
They work in tandem
For every old and new cliche
Words have been my friends my entire life
A great comfort and a redirection
An amazing friend even now
We create and craft with them
They have taken me to heights I never imagined
Yet,The Power of Words
Eternally grateful of time and understanding
An overly sensitive and sometimes creative me
With the Power of Words

he said:
“there’s a point where you stop
believing in miracles.”
he sat down,
pulled a flask from his jacket,
and took a long drink.

“but the funny thing is,” he said,
“you keep waiting for one anyway.
like some part of you
didn’t get the memo.”

i watched him stand up,
sway a little,
then walk out the door.
he left the flask behind.
it was empty.

Walking tall after being betrayed
Not giving up because you did
Getting strong after being seen as weak
All these assumptions made
Proving everyone wrong
All this doubt working harder than most
Not one to complain got it done
Broken trust keeping a distance
Tried to make it right made effort
Hard to do usually one to bail
such a waste of time
Dealing with a lost cause
Onto new forget the old
Awkward vibes tension in the air
Everyone knows the conflict
No one seems to care
No compromise not going to change
The talk changes nothing
It's already been spoken
Not one listened the first time around

A haggard angel
Stands behind my back.
Is it me or you?
For three decades
She had graced me
With words of love
And fits of anger.
I helped create her
And yet hurt her .
And suddenly, she turns
Away from me,
Still loving me, I think.
But all she wants,
She tells me bitterly,
Is to be alone.
She leaves and I wonder
If she will ever return.
I stand on a garish train,
Thunderstruck, unmoving,
As I watch her storm away.
Suddenly, I feel what she does—
The pain and sadness.
I created her long ago
And know why she is livid.
And now she returns the hurt,
Leaving me as the empty one,
My insides vacuum up sorrow.
Am I now the angel,
Fallen and haggard?