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Legacy

Legacy

I have no feet to walk the earth
no fins to swim the sea
no wings to soar the sky above
my conscience bothers me

my brain is smaller than my soul
my heart beats way to fast
the blood that flows within my veins
was shed in ages past

Credo

Credo

As someone born in this great land
it’s time to rise and take a stand
tell one and all just how I feel
about the things I know are real

you cannot kill what does not die
and faith in God is not a lie
Democracy is not a crutch
America was built on such

Coquette

Coquette

Absently she twirls a strand
of saffron colored hair
and peers at you with limpid baby blues
impossible to understand
yet vividly aware
that she is sending out misleading cues

Confession

Confession

Blood is falling once again
as tears of sacrificial rain
to heal the souls of those insane
and sing them into sleep

narrow is the path they walk
few can comprehend their talk
fewer still are those who mock
the covenants they keep

memorial Day

Memorial Day

Since first our nation came to be
bequeathed by sons of liberty
in many conflicts blood was shed
in many places rest our dead

on native soil or foreign lands
they paid what freedom oft demands
that all give some and some give all
so that democracy stands tall

Slayer

Slayer

Blood is dark by pale moonlight
and pours without control
like sacrificial rain of night
draining from a soul

air is heavy, foul with death,
aching for a breeze
silence hangs like dragon breath
corrupted by disease

Always Alone

He promised that he'd help her, but he won't stay
Soon he'll be gone, so where would she lay?
Would she cry in her bedroom all filled with need?
Or will she punish herself and make herself bleed?
He is tearing her apart limb from limb
And she's drowning because she doesn't know how to swim
Don't they see that she's sinking?
Why won't they help her?
What are they thinking?
She's sick and tired of saying "I'm fine"
Look into her eyes, don't you see all the lies?

Poetic Resume

Poetic Resume

To pen the pain a heart has known,
the anger of a soul,
are things a poet does without regret
no matter where one’s thoughts are blown
or how one plays the role,
a bard’s resolve is often hard beset

Beautifully Murdered By Buddha.

aimed my eyeballs
with slow precision
became Zen like
lost myself
quite beautifully

Buddha staring
into my probing
vision
no sign of
the Virgin Mother

High Noon
minus the violence
the intensity
almost
knocked me
over

stop!
no more seeking
no more
worried looks
which scatter away
the weak visioned
sleepwalking drones
who contemplate
nothing

I wonder

In the beginning
God created the heavens and earth
then Boom!
A dissatisfied snake
spewed out toxic waste.
Eve tried a taste
then breast fed her children
who defecated pollution
turning earth into a junk yard
I wonder if God wants it back,
to repair it?
A permanent fix would be nice
so Gabriel can applaud!

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