I lead men who, for you, fight Provide assurance that war is right They come to me at times, scared Fearing an end many soldiers have shared They look to me for reason and will After ‘serving’ has lost its thrill Many young, too young; I hate to see. These strong young men cry to me. I recite our goal, extend a hand… Assure them safe return is planned....
In pitch-black rooms were shadows are cast- With futures so black they can’t see their past, Surrounded in nothing, with only self to amuse, Where there’s no other person or substance to abuse, When the gate keeper never appears, And you’re stuck only with forever to look over your years, When the silent voice inside your head, Reveals to you that you are dead… What then I ask: when you cannot die for living?...
The brown-green moss atop a pool of muddy water Stagnantly trickles through a mixture of pines and cypress. Amidst the brown water, eyes peer at the birds on the banks And the eyes swiftly propel themselves about the mocha streams. The tall, white birds leap headfirst into the water- And return from the splash with a mouthful of fish. From the trees, a doe trots to the bank, Startling the bird; and then reaching down to sip the bayou....
In a backwards world full of love, With Heaven below and Hell above, There undoubtedly would be space to spare in the latter, And life and liberty and happiness wouldn’t matter; They would be given, never achieved. Only laughter would resonate from those who have grieved. In a backwards world full of acceptance, With churches for criminals and jails for repentance, There’d be more giving – no stealing or lying,...
another child of clay was born to us today mold it as we say so it can live one day in our world of grey strip it of its smile earnestness is style its red cheeks are vile white in a short while make it fit our pro-file success in work and prayer content that life’s not fair just strong enough to bear our never-ceasing stare too weak to really care...
My home is expansive Pillars to the sky Windows shape the light Into colors that fly by Doors of glossy oak Impenetrable without key The locks number many Designed to admit just me The walls are solid stone Silk tapestries, down them fall They glimmer in the light Dancing; I enjoy them all A floor of solid marble White with golden streams Carries me across the place As lustrously it beams...
Mom’s at work; Dad’s gone too- Kids are bored with homework and chores to do. T.V.’s blaring; phone’s off the hook- No sign of a newspaper, a pencil, or a book. Kid’s need some cash, some clothes, new shoes- No sense in parents, if their funds you can’t use. Kids want to have fun – no homework or chores- Any place is better than home – children knocking steadily on friends’ doors....
the rules in place are exact strict instructions how to act rules, action – quite mundane even every breech – the same powerful rules crush the will deep values falsely instill not the rules you must think when your heart can but sink do not confront, bow down rule accepted without frown you know no freedom, but law disturbing is what else you saw you fear freedom, for him...