In a world where being smart
Will make you mistrusted,
Where telling the truth
Makes one seem maladjusted,
Where showing compassion
Invites social scorn,
Where condemned are the happy
And praised the forlorn,
Where the vicious are wealthy
And the meek can’t inherit,
Where you’re judged by one’s look
And not by one’s merit,
I hope you’re condemned
To what’s nearly infinite
So when the world becomes worthy
You’ll still fit within it.
Filed under Poems
She told me I was childish,
Young and immature
With some form of exuberance
For which there is no cure.
I took a breath and looked at her
And offered my retort:
“Let’s have this conversation
“Somewhere other than my fort.”
Filed under Poems
Let me show you my nest,
The place I rest my head,
Full of feathers and down,
The protection we shed.
We’ll regrow them in time.
They adorn my haven,
Nothing but sticks and mud
And a home for a raven.
My nest’s in a tree.
The tree’s made by rain.
Rain makes my wings heavy
And makes flying pain.
If the sun comes around
And then refuses to set
I’ll have no tree or nest,
So I pray to be wet.
Bugs and worms fill me up
So I may keep eggs warm
So my nest will be full
With a small raven swarm
Who complain of the rain
And fear losing a feather
And I don’t mind their kind
And I treasure “together.”
Soon they’ll be showing
A tree with their nest
And “together” is gone
And it’s all for the best.
Filed under Poems
The loyal tortoise ambles
Through a forest full of brambles
Where once a meadow full of flowers flourished,
Where once the stamens danced
And petals bright entranced
Now a harsher foliage is nourished.
The tortoise tries a bite
Of whatever plant’s in sight
Its mouth enduring savagery and pain
For the aged tortoise knows
That they who seek a rose
Will, in the process, find that thorns they gain.
The tortoise eats its pick
Though much may make it sick
In hopes of finding what it thinks is lost.
The tortoise chews and bleeds
Just to satisfy its needs,
To find its rose regardless of the cost.
Somewhere amid the brush,
In a pocket, dark and hushed,
A seed emerges from the salty soil.
Its leaves taste stale air,
But the seed does not despair
For beauty never grows bereft of toil.
Someday the rose will bloom
And emerge amidst the gloom.
Perhaps the tortoise finds it after all.
Fearless are the plants of old,
Or so another tortoise told
In tales to seeds and to the ones who crawl.
Filed under Poems
My friend says it’s stressful
Trying to stay on track,
Keeping up with work and play
And texting everyone back…
And here I am, still in bed
At 2:35,
Unemployed, without friends,
Feeling happy to be alive!
Filed under Poems
I was a teenager after a year,
Middle aged by the time I was two.
I’d spend months in a minute chasing a ball
And spent weekends taking a poo.
A scratch on my ears was an hour in heaven
Though it seemed but a second to man.
I wonder if master can feel my time
And pray one of his seconds he can.
Filed under Poems
What is the purpose of a bird?
To fly? To eat? To breed?
Is its life a thing of choice
Or else of merely need?
If its purpose is to fly
But, hatching from its shell
Is born without the wings to fly
Can life be ever well?
If its purpose is to eat
But lacking seed or prey
Can the bird starve nobly
As nature has its way?
If its purpose is to breed
But has no living mate
Is the bird worthwhile still
Despite its desperate fate?
And what of birds within their egg
Afraid to face the light
For fear of life without a mate
Or lack of food or flight,
Who lay inside their egg, so warm,
Who never hurt or cry?
Are they blessed who never live
For they shall never die?
What is the purpose of a bird
Who cannot do a thing?
To live in stillness silently
Or else, perhaps, to sing.
Filed under Poems
Whether people treat you badly
Or whether they treat you fine
Is directly correlated
To your possession of a spine.
Filed under Poems
You want to be listened to
Instead of overheard.
You want a conversation
And not just have a word.
You want to celebrate your life
Instead of just staying alive
And because you know the difference
I know someday you’ll thrive.
Filed under Poems
If a thing is worth the work
Required to do it well
Then it is also worth the time
To be lousy as Hell.
If you hunt and fight and sing
And miss and lose and cry
You’ve far surpassed the many
Who were too afraid to try.
The losers of the universe
Die proudly in the sand,
Pleased to bear their battle scars
With dirt upon their hand.
There are no failures in the world
Of doing what’s worthwhile,
For both the best and all the rest
Have earned the right to smile.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 