Brand New Year

By this time next year,
May it all have came to pass,
By this time next year,
May tears have turned to laughs.

The doors that need to open,
And the doors that need to shut,
May they swing in the right direction,
To spring you out of your rut,
And knock bad on its ass.

The ones that need to come,
And the ones that need to go,
May they make their presence known,
In with the chums,
And out with the scum.

The demons plaguing you,
And the angels protecting you,
May they align with God’s plan,
For you to seek deliverance from devils,
And become a willing vessel.

The bad cravings,
And the good inclinations,
May they take their proper place,
The good becoming concrete,
And the bad sprouting feet.

The things you love,
And the things you hate,
May they not affect you unfavorably,
Your loves being beneficial,
And your hates not interfering with fate.

Wanted

It would be so splendid,
If Hell would freeze over,
So all the things that it’s said,
Won’t ever happen,
‘Til Hell freezes over,
Could come to fruition.

Like a world not predestined for failure,
One where there are more,
Saints than sinners,
And more to adore,
Than to abhor.

A way to make a living,
That doesn’t require,
Kissing someone’s ass,
And handing them half your life,
On a silver platter.

Where people don’t settle,
For whatever happens along first,
But wait for that which without,
They would die of thirst.

Oh for a world,
Where there are no regrets,
For people said what they felt,
Without stupidly waiting,
As biding your time,
Awaiting a perfect moment,
Ends with disappointment,
That realigns fates.

If only free,
Was really without cost,
But there’s always a price,
And if left unpaid,
That free thing is lost.

A place where time could stand still,
At the snap of a finger,
Or the stomp of a foot,
And then linger,
So we could just chill,
And enjoy the thrills.

If only instead of,
Employing unrelenting backstabbing and gossip,
A person looked at another,
As a soul not a foe,
And realized that’s the only way,
To make Heaven their home.

A Stroll Down Memory Lane

Your head will become,
Quite the circus,
When everything starts to surface,
It’s totally bizarre,
How it comes from nowhere,
But also everywhere.

No matter who you are,
And where you’re coming from,
You’ve seen some shit,
That you can’t forget,
We pack it away,
Until when one unexpected day,
The feelings left behind,
Spring forth in our mind.

The choicest ones,
Are always amusing,
They’ll take you on,
A wonderful walk,
You’ll smile all rosy,
As if smelling fresh-cut lawn,
Or cinnamon buns.

Some seriously sadden,
So sharply and so strongly,
When you go back there,
Bound wounds open afresh,
And you become such a mess,
That it’s a tad in doubt,
If you’ll manage to crawl out.

The worst will beat you down,
Make you good and angry,
So you wear a frown,
Your blood will begin to boil,
As you recall being treated,
Like a bed of rotting soil.

Once in awhile,
There’ll be one that amazes you,
And makes you wish to travel,
Back to when that one particular,
Was a fresh-made smile.

All the while you’re being assaulted,
With this reminiscing,
Some disappointing,
And others satisfying,
As these recollections flood you,
Mind, body, and soul,
Don’t let them take total control,
No,
Not even the happy moments,
Or you’ll end up going,
Down a deep and depressing hole.

……….But, That’s The Majority……….

Is there anything more irritating,
Than someone who lies,
To and about,
The one who tries?

One is lying,
While the other’s trying,
But who cares if the trier cries?
For sure not the liar……….

And it sure is lies,
When they say you’re loved,
Yet to the farthest corner,
Of their life you’ve been shoved.

Just be there,
When they remember to care,
Just be there,
When they’re down to the bottom,
On their mental list,
Of who might care,
Just be there,
When a slot opens up,
For them to ask “what’s up”?

Be there,
Or else!
You’re packed away,
To the backmost shelf.

Other than that,
Fuck off!
Who do you think you are?
You,
The trier,
Taking up the precious time,
Of the liar.

So, liar,
Now you’re hated,
Because the you you showed,
Has been long awaited,
But this complicated,
Hot then cold,
Is not a friend,
For on that,
No one can depend.

Shock Of The Century

How are you doing lately?
Hanging on by a thread,
Why’s that?
Because I feel like being dead.

Oh no! – Why?
Because that one’s been sly,
Doing what?
Turning his back, making me cry.

Oh! The nerve!
I hope he gets what’s deserved!
Same here!
Although that’s also my fear!

How so?
Because I never chose,
For him to become foe,
Oh, indeed?
Yes – for real,
I rather picture him,
As a knight with a steed.

That sounds like quite the conundrum!
Yes, it’s a problem!
Whatever will you do?
I shall pray,
For he’s one of the precious few.

Tel Mah

So much fun,
And isn’t the attachment rare?
Even so,
I don’t care,
That was yesterday,
But as for today……….I hate you.

Will it change?
I guess that depends,
On how you play your game,
All the innings should be,
Just like the beginning,
Once you stop sowing,
You quit reaping,
As then you’re not worth keeping.

If you turn to slime,
I stop wasting time,
Better halt the acting like,
I’m some gruesome daily grind,
Rather than a relaxing relief,
For your fucked-up mind.

Everyone wants to have their cake,
And eat it too,
And here’s that chance,
Pretty much offered to you,
On a silver platter,
Better figure out,
What’s the matter,
Before it dries up,
Like a dead tree stump.

Whether the near future brings,
A sickening sting,
Or a sunny song to sing,
I guess we shall see,
Which you’ll make be.

Is staying miserable,
All you can handle?
Or can you shut that door,
And move on to what’s in store?
The unknown isn’t really,
All that scary,
I speak from experience,
And P.S.,
This thing isn’t just coincidence.

Solo Confidence

The little boat,
Drifts along,
In its heart,
Beats a psycho song,
Full of anger,
Full of angst,
Mad then sad,
It goes far beyond bad.

The song appears,
To come and go,
Caused by whatever weather,
Has determined,
The river’s flow,
But from the banks,
We never know,
To what extent,
It’s taken its toll.

Look it over closely,
Before taking the little boat,
Out for a drive,
Look every day,
In case a storm showed up,
And riled its waters,
While you were elsewhere,
And it needs a repair.

You can’t know for sure,
At only a glance,
So why take the chance?
From where you’re at,
There’s no telling,
If winds were blowing,
Making holes that aren’t showing,
But will be made known,
After you’ve taken it,
Away from its home.

You must remember,
The storm has no friends,
It tosses every boat,
In its path,
And some are made,
To resist its wrath,
But some just can’t withstand,
A strong storm’s demands.

Though it’s controversial,
Technically,
Boats are optional,
And it’s more than acceptable,
To let that boat,
Be for someone else to float.

Though the river is mandatory,
How one navigates it,
Is their own little story,
A boat is escapable,
If you’re capable.

All Cut Up

Intensely felt,
Gashed down deep,
But unable to bleed,
Caused by a thing,
It feels like from which,
There’s no being freed.

It’s immense,
Needing stitches,
Though it won’t be sewn shut,
The best of soothing salves,
Can’t begin to mend the halves.

Weighted down,
By something not seen just felt,
Nearing now to the bottom,
Not quite but almost drowned.

Invisible,
But so powerful,
Easy to forget it isn’t obvious,
Since it’s gathered you such an audience.

Uncomfortable,
As a broken bone,
It assures,
You never feel at home,
Though you know it’s just in your mind,
And indeed,
You’re in reality just fine.

It seems fake,
Compared with headaches or toothaches,
You’ll be told to suck it up,
And made to feel like a fuck-up.

All too common,
Because society is rotten,
Sick in the head,
Is what will be said,
An insult,
That will make you see red.

Never talking of emotions,
Always leads up to explosion,
Tragic though,
That you must choose between,
Being wrecked,
Or causing some bullshit commotion.

A Note From Above

Dated: The Beginning Of Time (AD)

To: My Children

Maybe not what you want,
But what you need,
Will you accept the gift this time?
I pray you heed.

Other opportunities,
May seem like something,
That you’d much rather,
But in the end,
If you go with another option,
You’ll wish it was by my hands,
Your story had been penned.

Something or someone,
Is always knocking,
Some should be kept,
The rest told to keep on walking.

It seemed meant to be,
Sewn up so fast,
Until it exploded,
With a powerful blast.

It turned destructive and deadly,
Provided by,
The wrong authority,
Instead of me.

Wake up!
Wake up!
I see every second,
The whole play-by-play,
That’s leading you astray,
As I hover close by,
Waiting on you,
To open your eyes.

It’s right under your nose,
Being handed to you,
On a silver platter,
But it’s not what you had in mind,
So to it you are blind,
Not what you wanted,
So by it you’re daunted.

It’s in your way,
Like a stumbling block,
But only because,
You’re hard-headed like a rock.

Time’s ticking away,
On your mental clock,
You see just one road,
And it’s making your shoulders,
Carry an unnecessary load.

Receive what’s right,
In front of your face,
Stop shoving it away,
Because in the end,
You’re the one who always pays.

And the price every time is hefty,
You sometimes feel guilty,
Or dumb or embarrassed,
I suppose such is the way,
When the area is so gray.

You wish it could be,
More black and white,
And cause much less,
Of an inner fight,
But the war is real,
So just remember,
My saved sinner,
No matter which you choose,
Only one’s the winner.

Each time you lose,
Is like a blessing,
Accidentally refused,
Seek wisdom before,
Making a choice,
If you elect to listen,
I’ve a very loud voice.

Signed With Love,
The Lord God Almighty

Angels Await

**********

Super short,
Oh so fucking beautiful,
At times full of shit,
This accurately describes,
Each of them,
But even now,
I’ve a love for them,
That will never quit.

**********

Beyond the clouds,
These two wait for me,
And right now,
I look up from below,
Wishing that I too could go.

About now they’re walking,
Streets of gold,
Called names like Glory Road,
And Hallelujah Boulevard,
Pretty as any picture,
On a Pacific Island postcard.

I wonder what they do,
Now that trouble,
Isn’t able to be gotten into?
Because they’re Earthly behavior,
I’m sure isn’t tolerated,
By any Angels or the Savior.

I sure hope the boy is over his fear,
And lets the pony near,
Because together,
Is always so much better.

Truth be told,
They may be better off,
Up there as they trod down,
Golden roads,
Time will pass,
But they will stay as they are,
Never growing old.

Most call retirement,
The best years of their lives,
But I don’t return that sentiment,
As the years after being laid,
Into graves,
Is the only time we’re thoroughly released,
From being this world’s slaves.

Of course I wish for them back,
That cannot be helped,
But when it’s making me feel down,
I imagine them there,
Wearing their jeweled crowns,
And gone from their faces,
Are those ever-present frowns,
They seemed too frequently to wear,
When they lived with me here.

**********

I guess it’s a giant place,
With plenty to see and do,
But still I’ll be insulted,
If I find when it’s my time,
That they never looked back down,
Glancing out beyond space,
For a reassuring glimpse of my face.

**********