i looked up in the stars then made a wish,
to yearn for you is to cry for the moon
wished that you had never been this hard to reach,
so that we'll both be love existent very soon.

man is living as the Earth is rotating,
so is the time passes the same time it exists,
why was this love born out from a distance?
leaving me hanging with droplets of chance...

Lost in a world
That I don’t know
That I just don’t understand
Everyone is trying
To be someone
Someone they are not
Success is judged
By how much we have
As a people
As a nation
Children going hungry
To help support tax cuts
For people who don’t need them
Everyone cries
They are not responsible to help
The world is full of Cains
And no one seems Able
And the king of nothing
Writes another poem
Because he doesn’t know
What else to do

On the coldest day of a past year
( the low was ten degrees F or near )
in quiet hollow of mixed hardwood trees
I feel like I'm in a deep freeze

Deer hunting's the excuse I use
to enter this forest of frozen views
and test myself against the cold
I still do this, though growing old

It rained last night before this front
brought all the cold one man could want
but now at dawn it's calm and clear
I hear frost jacking the ground near

when you're just not
inspired that much
or just writing
out of obligation
one tends to just
produce junk
worthless crap

like the poem before
and the one before that

But hell, who's perpetually
hooked into the muse
or always obsessed
with perfection
and finely tuned in

Writing these things they call poems
is just an outlet
for the flow of substandard
horseshit,
that makes up
almost all of my
inventive thinking