Down is Up... Up Is Down

The world is downside, upside down,
Topsy turvy, overturned.
Which side? Where side? What side? Who?
Ever changing,
Nothing learned.
Bills come...
You pay.
What's that?
No way?
That's what you say.
Don't play dumb.
Sitting, waiting, hesitating,
Never knowing what may come.
Vast profusion
Of illusion,
Mass confusion all around.
No one knows which way it goes
When down is up
And up is down.

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Do You Fear the Wind?

The rustle of a patient breeze
Sighs softly through the waiting trees,
Touching every single leaf as it glides by.
Laying soft against my skin,
Who could fear the gentle wind
Rising from the fragile earth
To kiss a waiting sky?
Will you be as benevolent
When patience runs its' course?
Will you stand to face the wind
When rolling clouds amass?
Or will you run to shelter,
Fleeing deep into your cave,
When mother nature's greatest force
Begins to rise and pass?
Unseen powers drive the wind.
The breath of God is billowing,
Swirling inhales,
Angry exhales,
Twisting, falling, growing,
Tangled fears will multiply,
Foresee a bitter end as
Heads get buried in the sand.
Do you fear the wind?

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Drag Queens, Tambourines and Mom's Apple Pie

Ching-chinga-ching-ching, ching-chinga-ching.
Tambourine pounds rhythmically to palm and thigh.
Cheerful, laughing emanations wafting through the air,
Almost as American as mom's apple pie.
Folksy music of a note simplistic in its view,
Dressed in Levis, flannel shirt, bare feet and fishing pole.
"Hardly" understanding or tolerant of any who oppose
What was once her noble sentiments and goals.

The drag queen bursts upon the scene
With fashion and with flare,
Traveling a vast uncharted sea.
Being what he has to be and
Answering the dare,
Taking up the challenges
To set his spirit free.

Tambourines pound chinga-ching,
And folk songs fill the air,
Waving flags and ragging "fags"
With righteous indignation.
Commentary saddened through
A lack of understanding.
Sad obituary to a closed imagination.

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Save Me Wolfman Jack

Deep into the night he sauntered,
Seeking souls of restlessness,
Saint or sinner,
Priest or pirate,
Cure for the insomniac.
Gravel cords to pierce the darkness
As the meek and weak confess.
Crying out in desperate measure,
"Help me!  Save me! Wolfman jack"

Sneaking in a dedication,
Lonely hearts a specialty.
Howling to a moanful moon
He spins another stack
Of unbridled joy and romance meant
To wile the night away.
Screaming loud into the darkness,
"Help me!  Save me!  Wolfman Jack."

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If... Then...

If the chicken came first,
Then where did the egg come from?
If the egg was first,
How did it get laid?
If life gives you roses,
Enjoy the profusion.
If life gives you lemons,
Make lemonade.

If freedom is paid for
By loss of a life,
Then whose freedom was it
You sought to attain?
If reason is lost,
Then freedom means little
When nothing but
Bittersweet memories remain.

If Jesus was man,
Then are we immortal?
If sin is a curse, then
Why is there such blight?
If questions abound unspoken, unanswered,
Then our quest lies deep
In the heart of the night.

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The Tribute

It seems so unfair 
That we should pay tribute
To those who from all but

Our memories are gone.

The stars that glow bright

Are not all in the heavens,

All through our midst

They are scattered and strewn.

We as a race get to

Choose our own heroes,

Canonize saints

Long after they've passed.

Tributes and monuments

Grace our cathedrals and

Squares end to end,

The first to the last.

There are heroes among us,

Saints by our sides.

Slaves to compassion abound.

So, here's to the living

Who give of themselves

Everywhere love can be found.

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What Do You Want?

What do you want out of life?
Do you want fortune or undying fame?
Do you view life as a pretending game?
Tell me,
What do you want out of life?

Do you know why you are here?
Don't you think it's a bit queer?
Can you insist that you truly exist?

Do you know why you are here?

Such philosophical mush
Must put your mind in a rush.
If you've an answer, please,
Don't fear to flaunt it.
Tell us all.
Just what do you want?

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The Other Shoe

We sat befuddled and bemused
At news too curious to ignore,
Wondering what great misfortune
Dropped its' shadow at our door.

It seems there's always something
Brewing, stewing, simmering.
It comes in pairs or sometimes threes,
At times full-circling.

So, here we sit, our minds agog,
Backed firm against the wall,
Braced and ready, waiting for
The other shoe to fall.

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Teacher Teacher

Who taught the teacher who
Taught the teacher who
Taught all those treasures to you?
Who gave them knowledge and
Foresight to realize
You must know everything
There is to know?
What makes the ages evolve
In their wisdom and
Keep adding more as the
Eons pass by?
Who fills the oceans with
Waters of learning,
Understanding the
Ebb and the flow.

Questions need answering.
Curious minds
Deserve to be fed
With the figures and facts.
Starving minds falter
When teachers don't teach them,
Leaving them prey
To the reapers attack.

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Peanuts...

Peanuts, peaches, pulp and pine.
Up at sun up... Bed by nine.
Preaching Jesus... Cursing wine...
Always hoping for a sign
From up above to offer hope...
Ever trying hard to cope and
Justify a life so fine as
Peanuts, peaches, pulp and pine.

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Top Dog

Top dog holds the handle.
Top dog pulls the strings.
Top dog keeps the biggest part,
The best of everything.
Top dog never feels the pain
Or taste the bitter sting.
Top dog is the champion who
Gets to wear the ring.
Top dog gets the grandest view,
The chance to taste it all.
Top dog rides the rooftops with
The farthest to fall.

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The Expert

The expert stands in the midst of a pasture
Surrounded by cow pies and other manure,
Spreading advice like jelly on toast
Until hardly an ear can escape or endure.

Who could amass such a trivia trove?
Why must we listen?
When will it end?
Experts and bullshit hand in hand,
One washing the other, their only true friends.

Knowing it all is a cumbersome burden,
One that I hope never settles on me.
Hopefully there's always more for the learning.
"Expert" is one thing I don't want to be.

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The Innocent Bystander

Just passing by,
Minding my business,
Meaning no harm,
Intending no wrong,
Wanting no evil
To darken my doorway,
Never expecting
To hear danger's song.
Resting my guard
In the cool of the evening,
Easing concern
As the world passes by,
Primed as a victim
To predators watching,
Walking contentedly
Where dangers lie.
Who would have known?
Who could have guessed
That the bystander's trust
Could have been so betrayed?
Just passing by,
Minding my business.
Left dashed, disillusioned,
Bashed and afraid.

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Sparkles

Crystalline fireflies dance on the water
Like Mister Bojangles tapping a tune.
The sun settles in with the earth as its' pillow.
Its waltz on the water gives way to the moon.

Dewdrops awaken the clear mountain morning,
Touching the light to its' delicate beads.
Sparkling fancy foretelling the future,
The crystal of gypsies fulfilling our needs.

Champagne bubbles race to the surface,
A few clinging fast to the side of the glass.
Rising and gasping and bursting in air,
Joyfully, thankfully free at last.

Where do you look to find your sparkles?
What will you cling to when day is done?
Who will you sing to when shadows grow tall
And the lake waters dance with the setting sun?

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Going Home

Dawn breaks across the north Georgia Mountains
Like a peek-a-boo child in a harmless game,
Flashing its' smile between tall standing pine,
Piercing the windows of the slow moving train.

Kudzu so thick by the side of the tracks
Blanketing hillsides, fences and trees,
Smothering, choking the edge of the forest,
Bringing the mighty oak to it’s' knees.

Off in the distance the cattle are grazing.
A corn field flies by topped with gold-braided hair.
The peaks and the valleys misted with bluish gray
Mystery, haunted by crisp morning air.

Pensiveness grows into anticipation,
Anxious to see those familiar faces,
Wondering what changes may have occurred.
Will you still recognize people and places?

Change is inevitable, constant, ongoing,
No matter how far or how long we may roam.
Shall we philosophize or be pragmatic?
No time to think of that.
We're going home.

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If It's Good For You, It Must Taste Awful

Remember all those medicines
You took when you were little.
Paregoric, castor oil, vile liquids
Blackened to opaque.
Mom said, "It will make you better", but I do believe
I'd rather have green apples
And a three-day bellyache.
Where is justice? Sweet as honey.
Who decided in such haste
That everything that's good for you
Should have such awful aftertaste?
Flavor it with grape or cherry.
Mix it with some orange juice.
Tease it with a twist of lemon.
Bribe me with a chocolate moose.
Why can't ice cream be a cure-all
Instead of what we must endure?
Then we'd all be clamoring
To catch the illness for the cure.
Life is filled with irony
And one thing is always true...
It most likely will taste awful
If it's really good for you.

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My latest creation is on Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0359184669/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i27

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The Envelope Please

The suspense is building.
Anxiety runs thick in the air
Like the mist of a fog.
The crowd is aflutter
With anticipation.
Suspended in tension
Awake and agog.
Who could have written
This narrative drama
Dripping with circumstance,
Clinching its' fist
In white-knuckled wanting,
Holding its' breath,
Waiting to see
Whose star has been kissed?
Finally, the time is here.
A prayer ascends from bending knees.
Who will it be?
Will it be me?
Oh god! The envelope, please.

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Waking Up In The Middle Of the Night

I shouldn't have had that last glass of water,
That last cup of coffee,
Last drink of tea.
Shouldn't have drifted off
With a mind racing, recalling, reliving
The day angrily.
Dreams have a habit of walking the night,
Waking with fright as their victims fall prey,
Fearful of yesterday,
Dreading tomorrow,
Wondering what will arrive with the day.
Pity the mind can't erase all it's worry,
Blank out regrets and
Make everything right.
Sleep is too precious to be interrupted.
I hate waking up in the cold of the night.

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Why Do We Cheat Each Other?

Lessons come hard for cheaters.
They don't always get it the first time,
The second, the third.
Someone forgot to tell them their shortcut
To finding the answer was terribly wrong.
Somewhere along the highway of lessons in life
They simply did not get the word.
Or somehow the tune went awry in their minds,
Erasing the words to the song.

Wanting and winning and taking and getting
Are viruses growing, infecting the heart,
Dulling the senses of kindness and giving,
Setting compassion alone and apart.
What do we win when we covet our neighbor?
What prize does envy align on our shelves?
Nothing is gained when we cheat on each other.
We just wind up cheating ourselves.

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