Poetry Two

I write you poetry to beg acceptance

Into a world that’s not mine

Hoping my words can talk to you

In a voice that I will never speak aloud

Feelings are difficult to breath into life

When there’s a battle between

My imagery and your truth

But what good is inspiration

If not earned through struggle

I only hope that one man’s dribble

Just might be your art

Summer Days

Heavy air on breezeless days
Push you into shady corners
Sweat stained ball caps
Cover red leather faces
Adonis boys display their prowess
To bikini clad Aphrodite
Blood runs hotter than the sun
When darkness hides their passion

Got a Minute?

Got a minute
We need to talk
I was at the doctor
Lump
Biopsy
Malignant
Don’t cry
Too early to tell
I’m scared
Take care of them
I love you
Goodbye

A Beautiful Soul

To my wonderful wife on her birthday (happy 30th dear).

A Beautiful Soul

Your beauty
Does not need to wear a skimpy bikini
Or hide behind a painted mask of vanity
Your beauty
May bulge over the edges of the mold
But that is a mold, cold men created blindly
Your beauty
Does not yield to the encroachment of time
But transforms to embrace reality
Your beauty
Is in a smile with crooked lips
The tears shed in sympathy for others
Your beauty
Is in arms outstretched for a hug
And in a heart filled with dignity
Your beauty
Reads my words before they are written
It inspires my poetry, hopes, and dreams

They Sold Your Soul

They Sold Your Soul

There is a place that exists
Between Hell and Heaven
And we’re doing a tightrope balancing act
On the center rail of humanity

America I pledge allegiance but I can’t tell anymore which country you are
I’ve asked the questions  but never get a straight answer
There are times when I can feel the sun shining on my back
But it  quickly fades back to hate and blame

When did life get so damned hard
When did the answers to the questions become more questions
When did the light at the end of the tunnel
Turn out to be a street lamp on the corner of Lies and Mistrust

They all run around screaming silence at each other
Each one wanting to know why the other can’t understand the lie
When it’s as plain as the  pimple in the ass crack of their insanity
It itches but they won’t scratch it for fear we’ll smell the shit on their hands

So somebody please tell me where did the innocent children go
I know they were here just a few minutes ago
I heard them laughing and playing out on the lawn
But when I turned back to look they were suddenly gone

They’re in the bathroom with a razor slash across their wrists
Because they know the big white house on top of the hill
Is just a meeting place for the worlds auctioneers
And what is for sale and who is in line to buy it