Tuesday, February 22, 2011


Sometimes I feel like it might be me,
Who has never been to jail but can't be free,
Held down, in shackles and chains you cannot see,
Sometimes I wish they could just let me be.

Sometimes I wish that they could understand,
That those weren't results for which I had planned,
That I meant it when I told her, take my hand,
And now I fail to see how the tide has turned.

Sometimes I wish that I'd let her go,
Maybe then I wouldn't be held back by the ebb and flow,
Maybe if I had let my true feelings show,
My soul would heal, and maybe I would grow.

Sometimes I feel like I am to blame,
So I walk around the town with my head sunk in shame,
I think her world was better off before i came,
Sometimes I feel like things could never be the same.

Sometimes I watch, I see her cry,
I swear to myself, I say I'll try,
But my flesh is weak, my lips are dry,
And I tell myself once more, one last time.

Sometimes I feel like it might be me,
Who has never been to jail but can't be free,
Held down, in shackles and chains you cannot see,
Sometimes I wish I could break away and just be me.

Thursday, February 17, 2011


When the sun has shown the last of its rays,
Lazily pulled itself over the hills,
When the wind has blown all it can,
And in the quiet of the eve all is still.

When the city streets are still and uninhabited,
But for the few that lark in the shadows,
When between the sheets is where all can be found,
And even the sheep are asleep in their grassy meadows.

When darkness dawns and covers the sun,
Leaving other stars to fight for second place,
When curtains are drawn and lights unlit,
And all that can be heard is the sound of silence.

As crickets play their music, their melodies sweet,
As if to welcome the cold of the evening,
The clock ticks in tune, it simply cannot resist,
To join this wonderful meeting.

As birds of the dark watch the night sky,
Making sure its not stolen while the world rests,
As some dogs silence their bark while others don’t,
While their owners patience is put to the test.

While dastardly dreams happen under disheveled duvets,
And men face their triumph and disgrace,
When all seems like it has settled down,
In that silence, I find my solace.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Birds That Pray.

Beneath clear starry skies,
The lonely mocking bird it flies,
Who? The owl it asks perplexed,
As the woodpecker lies still in its nest,
The eagle way, way, way up high,
Silently stalks, for prey is nigh.

The grass wet with morning dew,
Silence broken by the cocks cock a doodle doo,
The dove, the canary and the cuckoo,
All enjoy their beautiful view,
The eagle way, way, way up high,
Silently stalks, for prey is nigh.

The hummingbird does its backward flight,
The albatross soars all day and night,
The hawk eyes the mice, and the baby rabbits hopping,
And they all stop and ask, who killed cock robin?
The eagle way, way, way up high,
Silently stalks, for prey is nigh.

The vulture feeds on remains leaves nothing but bones,
The pigeon brings joy to several homes,
The parrot can't stop talking, since Polly has a cracker,
The swan graceful as always, the duck can't shut its quacker,
The eagle way, way, way up high,
Flies content, a bird satisfied,
Amidst all this scampering on a branch,
From way up high the eagle sees lunch.

The chicken is slaughtered makes one hell of a meal,
The swallow is mellow, its soul needs to heal,
These fowl are quite foul, these birds oblivious,
The world around seems so mysterious,
The eagle way, way, way up high,
Points his nose and takes his dive.

The dove preaches peace, the ostrich can't fly,
The penguin in his tuxedo, the raven stands by,
The turkey is suicidal, the sparrow claims taboo,
Yet still the parrot talks on with its tails untrue,
The eagle climbs, the air gets thinner,
In his talons, it has its dinner

Monday, February 7, 2011

Quid Facerem

Could I speak?
Open my mouth to form syllables,
Let my tongue swirl in my mouth gingerly resting on the edges,
Allow my lungs to release air through my vocal chords,
Until finally words are expelled from my mouth, a torrent relentless,
Could I speak?

Could I feel?
Explore with my fingers and see with eyes closed,
Every nook and cranny, hill and valley,
Let the nerve endings send silent messages to my mind,
Create mental images deviod of visual aides, let my fingers enable the process of learning,
Could I feel?

Could I think?
Perceive and conceive along with the best of them,
Create notions, invent ideas, manipulate emotions, joys and tears,
Stimulate my grey matter so that it recognizes Richard of York,
Show man's advantage over the rest of them,
Could I think?

Could I breathe?
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale simple process, fundamental it may be,
Take in oxygen give back carbon dioxide,
Let the air diffuse into my red blood cells and facilitate my very existence,
If for a second words eluded me
Could I breath?

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


I took a stroll down the lane of memories,
Walked right up to the corner of childhood and puberty,
Took a left at triumphs, and found myself on the street of glories,
Next to the building of the mystery of my history,

The paths were aligned with doubts and fear,
The weather was always dark and gloomy,
Some roads were flooded by the rain of tears,
Others were winding and confusing.

The streets were littered with external influences,
The cleaner named confidence was asleep on his broom,
All around were billboards for the company, Decision Consequences,
A homeless man, named faith, asked me for a room.

The crowd rushed around me headed to the same place,
Apparently the leader was about to say something funny,
So I followed them there and on the stage with a smile on his face,
I saw this man they call Money.

He was tall dark and handsome with a gleam in his eye,
And he spoke words smart and profound,
He looked smart and witty and really quite sly,
When he spoke, no one uttered a sound.

But what about Humility I asked around,
I believe she can say something too,
But they just looked at me and asked if my mind was sound,
“She has no place in the land of you.”

So I left the city in a blur of confusion,
I ran as far and as fast as I could,
Looked up and swore it must have been an illusion,
I had found myself in the slum of I wish I would.

Here I found nice folk, though they lived in poverty,
There was Truth, Honour, and Integrity,
And I felt at peace away from the animosity,
That had rocked me in the big city.

They offered me some water and clamed me down,
Made me feel at peace with myself,
And though they were no kings (at least I saw no crown),
I thought this is where I should store my wealth.

Now I have big plans for a city called future,
It will be the place to be,
Together with Truth, Hope, Faith, it will be quite the adventure,
And probably the new headquarters of the country of Me.