Tag Archives: Love

Hallelujah

There lived a man who wished to die,

With lips malformed so when he’d sigh

The anguish that emerged was like

The first sunrise of Spring.

The humans that he’d never known

Had from all places to him flown

With no intent to comfort him

But just to hear him sing.

The singer sang, the cryer cried

To oceans deep and mountains wide

And every human listener thought

The singer read their mind.

The speaker spoke, the moaner moaned.

His sorrows said, his hopes intoned

Leaving unspoken just enough,

Ensuring seekers find.

He screamed at them in loneliness:

A girl in far too short a dress

Confused by why she couldn’t find

A man who’d stay ’til morning

And, to the men who eyed her, said

To see her heart before her bed

But all they heard were pretty words

And not the singer’s warning.

He sang to those who owned the gold,

The young who’d never gotten old,

The old who’d never been a child,

To those without a penny.

His sharing was his means to cope.

His medicine was spreading hope

Perhaps to you, the listening few

Among the mindless many.

The living listened as he cried,

He sang also to those who died,

A song for all who made mistakes

And sought to change their fate.

Some say that Satan turned to hear

And even shed a single tear.

Although the angel fell from grace

His wings might still bear weight.

No one asked the singer’s name.

To his wake no listeners came

For clouds above were pearly white

And sky above was blue.

Thus did the singer move along.

No longer needed was his song.

The singer lives forever

Even though his wish came true.

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Princess Fatigue

Ask any man “Would you marry?”

And the man will most-likely say “Sure.”

He’d wear a gold ring for the rest of his days

To announce his commitment to her.

Ask any girl “Would you marry?”

And she’ll smile and say “Yes” with glee.

“And he’d wear a gold ring for the rest of his days

“To announce his commitment to me!”

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Probably Murder Too, But…

This may be oversimplified

But I think there’s just one sin:

To sacrifice one’s love of life

In the hope you’ll somehow win.

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Pass It On

There’s a lot in life to pass on

Like the buck, the ball, the chance,

The slow guy in the right lane

And the guy who wants to dance.

There’s a lot in life to pass on

But some we should pass more:

A smile, a joke, a genius stroke,

What matters at our core.

We can take a pass on vacuuming

Without many repercussions

But we don’t get back missed kisses

And unlistened-to discussions.

And as you pass decisions

Other folks are passing too

So tell the world “I’m open”

And smile at what gets passed to you.

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Today

He’s hiding in a cloud of dust,

Relearning how to never trust.

Her taillights shining in his eyes,

He doesn’t know just how it ended.

Her ears await the next catcall,

In jeans too tight and skin too small,

Praying to what she knows are lies

For the pleasure of being offended.

Both parties borrow from tomorrow

To hide from yesterday’s Pompeii.

They can’t forget about each other

So they settle to forget about today.

He held the door of the gilded cage

And didn’t understand her rage.

He thought he’d shown her chivalry

But she called it the living dead.

Her body language said “I’m cheap.”

She told him she was losing sleep.

He said “I’ll fix this. Hmm, let’s see,”

Then noticed she’d already fled.

They’re hiding from tomorrow’s sorrow

In yesterday’s hip hip hooray.

They hate but obey what they ought

And settle to forget about today.

They’re told by shadows high above

What they must think and say and love

Never asking if or why

Shadows live and love to lie.

They’d rather borrow from tomorrow

To pave the way for yesterday

But within them, on the highest shelves

Are two uncaged, unsullied selves

Whispering in voices clear

So only quiet minds can hear

The truth forbidden by the they:

No one ever lives beyond today.

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On The General Nature Of Material Things

In this world of cats and dogs,

Of black and white, of bricks and logs,

It seems it nature’s choice we trust

The things which most resemble us,

Because of nature or our minds,

We oft call “evil” other kinds

Of creatures, colors, or supplies;

To do this I don’t think is wise.

If dogs chase cats or cats scratch dogs,

If we stack bricks or burn some logs

We do these things not out of spite

But merely ’cause it feels right.

So are we, by our nature, wrong

To do as we’ve done all along

Merely since a precious few

Feel malice as these things they do?

Shall we, must we, can we insist

That the building and the chase desist?

Are we all not good human beings

But, one and all, [Insert here]-ist fiends?

I like to think what harm we do

Is in pursuit of what is true,

And if we don’t find verity

We fail with true sincerity.

Impose not evil on the Earth

For no more than being given birth

And if another’s sin you see

Know the sinner is human like you and me.

Perhaps through this we’ll forget war,

We’ll never suffer anymore.

More likely we’ll still scratch and bite

But, mindfully, still smile despite.

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Venus In Manhattan

The day that Venus touched my hand

The night was dark upon the land;

The wind was very chill and grim

And the streetlights’ respites scarce and slim.

As her fingers met with mine

I longed for them to intertwine.

I held on tight as she let go.

How chill and grim the wind did blow!

I asked her why she ran away

But, no longer present, she’d naught to say.

And as I stood there all alone

I realized she stole my phone.

Venus, it seems, knew the pickpocket’s art

But knew not that she stole my heart.

So I launched “Find my iPhone”

And followed with a heart of stone

The steps to find my mobile and

The Venus who had touched my hand.

Down I followed many miles

Towards the thief and all her wiles,

Past the park and through the woods

And into shady neighborhoods

Until upon the spot came I

Where Apple said “Your phone’s nearby,”

And there I saw her, Queen of Love,

My iPhone held with woolen glove.

Her fingers danced light as can be

As she stole my identity.

I called out “Venus, I am Joe!”

She shrugged as if to say “I know.”

Then she shot me in the face

With majestic and transcendent grace.

As I descended to the dead

Her visage filled what was left of my head.

And on that dark and stormy night

When Venus’s left hand touched my right…

That hand which held the fated gun

Which well-ensured my life was done…

And whence the chill, grim wind had blown

I learned the downside of testosterone.

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