Hi All,
this isn't a poem just a little bit of trivia .
The Origin of the F-word
· The origin was in the fifteenth century, when a married couple had to have permission from the king to procreate. Hence, Fornication Under Consent of the King (or sometimes Fornication Upon Command of the King).
· During the time of the Puritans, a person imprisoned in the stocks would have his or her crime displayed on the timbers. Because space was tight, when adultery was involved they used an acronym that represented the words For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge.
The Origins of the Finger
Before the Battle of Agincourt in 1415, the French, anticipating victory over the English, proposed to cut off the middle finger of all captured English soldiers. Without the middle finger it would be impossible to draw the renowned English longbow and therefore [soldiers would] be incapable of fighting in the future. This famous weapon was made of the native English yew tree, and the act of drawing the longbow was known as "plucking the yew." Much to the bewilderment of the French, the English won a major upset and began mocking the French by waving their middle fingers at the defeated French, saying, "See, we can still pluck yew!"
Over the years some "folk etymologies" have grown up around this symbolic gesture. Since "pluck yew" is rather difficult to say, like "pheasant mother plucker," which is who you had to go to for the feathers used on the arrows for the longbow, the difficult consonant cluster at the beginning has gradually changed to a labiodental fricative "f," and thus the words often used in conjunction with the one-finger salute are mistakenly thought to have something to do with an intimate encounter. It is also because of the pheasant feathers on the arrows that the gesture is known as "giving the bird
Dec 30, 2005
Rules Of The Road ©
The travels of life and the journey of time,
Are roads of strange curves and obstacles to climb.
Though there are many paths and directions to choose,
It’s still up to fate if you’ll win or lose.
See, you can’t turn around and a map you’re deprived,
You can only go on and continue to drive.
Now there’s no need to hurry it’s a long haul ahead.
And the sooner you finish the sooner you’re dead.
See life in the fast lane is too short a trip,
There are different rewards, other paths that you skip.
So slow down for the people, shake hands with a few.
You may meet someone special who’ll come ride with you.
And don’t try stupid stunts, the risk is too high.
You have nothing to prove to the passers-by.
For what they think don’t matter, it’s what you think that counts.
After all it’s your life so don’t give in an ounce.
Just always remember that the true driver is you,
That you’re in command of whatever you do.
Then at the end of your journey whether you’ve reached your goal,
You’ll have many memories to cherish and hold.
The memories of places and people you’ve met.
The ones who’ve most touched you and the ones you regret.
Are roads of strange curves and obstacles to climb.
Though there are many paths and directions to choose,
It’s still up to fate if you’ll win or lose.
See, you can’t turn around and a map you’re deprived,
You can only go on and continue to drive.
Now there’s no need to hurry it’s a long haul ahead.
And the sooner you finish the sooner you’re dead.
See life in the fast lane is too short a trip,
There are different rewards, other paths that you skip.
So slow down for the people, shake hands with a few.
You may meet someone special who’ll come ride with you.
And don’t try stupid stunts, the risk is too high.
You have nothing to prove to the passers-by.
For what they think don’t matter, it’s what you think that counts.
After all it’s your life so don’t give in an ounce.
Just always remember that the true driver is you,
That you’re in command of whatever you do.
Then at the end of your journey whether you’ve reached your goal,
You’ll have many memories to cherish and hold.
The memories of places and people you’ve met.
The ones who’ve most touched you and the ones you regret.
Dec 28, 2005
Home ©
Home is where the heart is, home is where you lie,
Home is where you want to be until the day you die.
Home is where the memories are and where you lived your life,
Home is where you raised your kids and loved you darling wife.
Home is where you built a life with blood and sweat as pay.
Home is where you hurried to at the end of every day.
Home is Christmas and thanksgivings and birthdays by the score,
Of graduations and celebrations for countless thing before.
For all that we hold dear in this world and everything we gain.
The one that seems to top them all is the home that we obtain.
It stores all of our memories, our cherished hand-me-downs.
It almost seems to become to us a sacred hallowed ground.
We’ve seen our children grow up here, charted on the door frame.
And hope that they will someday do for their children the same.
Home is where you want to be until the day you die.
Home is where the memories are and where you lived your life,
Home is where you raised your kids and loved you darling wife.
Home is where you built a life with blood and sweat as pay.
Home is where you hurried to at the end of every day.
Home is Christmas and thanksgivings and birthdays by the score,
Of graduations and celebrations for countless thing before.
For all that we hold dear in this world and everything we gain.
The one that seems to top them all is the home that we obtain.
It stores all of our memories, our cherished hand-me-downs.
It almost seems to become to us a sacred hallowed ground.
We’ve seen our children grow up here, charted on the door frame.
And hope that they will someday do for their children the same.
I finally wrote a new poem.
This is dedicated to my dad who died in April.
This Christmas we missed him alot,
we even taped his picture to the chair he sat it every year
while we opened gifts so it seemed more like he was there.
I miss you and love you alot Dad.
Dec 16, 2005
Precious Memories ©
When I think of you my love, a rush of memories fills my mind,
Of the things we’ve shared together,
Of the things we’ve shared together,
of the precious times we’ve had.
Picnicking in my favorite park, hiking though the woods,
Or just lying in the sunshine kissing you every chance I could.
An afternoon spent at the zoo riding on all the rides,
Cooking on my little grill with my dream girl by my side.
Pontooning on the lake, swimming and playing around,
Watching all the fireworks with special glasses I had found.
Though not all of our adventures have all been a dream,
The swarming horsefly invasion, the nasty wild cherry whipped cream.
Or a little pug-faced dog that gave me quite a fright,
We always found a way to make things turn out right.
And some of those special moments I’ll always hold most dear,
Like the oily back massages that got into your hair,
Or the fires by the river, flames dancing in your eyes,
Shooting stars above us, the radio plays close by.
Sweet messages on the telephone telling me what I want to hear,
That you feel the same for me as I do for you my dear.
Picnicking in my favorite park, hiking though the woods,
Or just lying in the sunshine kissing you every chance I could.
An afternoon spent at the zoo riding on all the rides,
Cooking on my little grill with my dream girl by my side.
Pontooning on the lake, swimming and playing around,
Watching all the fireworks with special glasses I had found.
Though not all of our adventures have all been a dream,
The swarming horsefly invasion, the nasty wild cherry whipped cream.
Or a little pug-faced dog that gave me quite a fright,
We always found a way to make things turn out right.
And some of those special moments I’ll always hold most dear,
Like the oily back massages that got into your hair,
Or the fires by the river, flames dancing in your eyes,
Shooting stars above us, the radio plays close by.
Sweet messages on the telephone telling me what I want to hear,
That you feel the same for me as I do for you my dear.
Written to my last GF.
How could it have been this good and ended so badly?
Dec 14, 2005
Seasons ©
Summer’s season fades away,
Loneliness, another day.
Autumn’s colors seems to smear,
Wishing only change is near.
Winter’s snows of blinding force,
Darkened thoughts of unknown sources.
As springtime comes inside I scream,
Of what will be tomorrow’s dream.
Sorrowed seasons, troubled times,
A punishment for unknown crimes?
Forget the thoughts of doing wrong,
For in the end life does go on.
Loneliness, another day.
Autumn’s colors seems to smear,
Wishing only change is near.
Winter’s snows of blinding force,
Darkened thoughts of unknown sources.
As springtime comes inside I scream,
Of what will be tomorrow’s dream.
Sorrowed seasons, troubled times,
A punishment for unknown crimes?
Forget the thoughts of doing wrong,
For in the end life does go on.
Flowery Paeans ©
Passionate kisses that makes my heart pound,
Sensual embraces from the angel I’ve found.
The feeling of peace just knowing you’re near,
Mere words to express the one I hold dear.
For I’m awestruck by marvels like nothing I’ve seen,
I’m compelled to relate just how much you do mean.
Your kisses send chills all though my body,
Your dazzling bright eyes beam intensely at me.
Your touch, it does warm me, from my head to my toes,
When you’re lying beside me I bask in the glow.
Your smile, like a sunbeam, lightens the room,
A lighthouse of passion that starts me to swoon.
From a fire so white hot that inside my heart rages,
Of the one I’ll treasure through-out the ages.
Sensual embraces from the angel I’ve found.
The feeling of peace just knowing you’re near,
Mere words to express the one I hold dear.
For I’m awestruck by marvels like nothing I’ve seen,
I’m compelled to relate just how much you do mean.
Your kisses send chills all though my body,
Your dazzling bright eyes beam intensely at me.
Your touch, it does warm me, from my head to my toes,
When you’re lying beside me I bask in the glow.
Your smile, like a sunbeam, lightens the room,
A lighthouse of passion that starts me to swoon.
From a fire so white hot that inside my heart rages,
Of the one I’ll treasure through-out the ages.
written to my last GF
Dec 5, 2005
The Captain ©
As the captain arrives, tripping through the door,
He slurs out a hello and drops the cooler to the floor.
Grabs a can of "attitude" and falls onto the couch,
Knocking the cushions and ashtray about.
He starts a conversation, conversation there’s a joke.
For whatever you say is cut off before spoke.
He doesn’t care what you just might have to say,
So just sit there and listen, for you can’t get away.
Slowly but surely the wall of words subside,
Now you know that the end is soon to arrive.
Using the jello-neck head bob as an Indian used scouts,
You can tell that quite soon he’s going to pass out.
Then the worst is over from the optimist’s view,
For it’s now just the snoring and a lip-smack or two.
How can he ignore the obvious signs,
Or the dangers ahead or the problems behind?
But when troubles arise someone else is to blame,
Delusions of conspiracy, no feeling of shame.
And the punishment is merely an inconvenience,
Just a pain in the butt or udder nonsense.
Still the captain moves on from port to bay,
And resumes the next course the very next day.
Written about my brother who I lived with in Fl.
He drank too much and too often.
Thank god he finally quite drinking before he killed someone or himself.
He slurs out a hello and drops the cooler to the floor.
Grabs a can of "attitude" and falls onto the couch,
Knocking the cushions and ashtray about.
He starts a conversation, conversation there’s a joke.
For whatever you say is cut off before spoke.
He doesn’t care what you just might have to say,
So just sit there and listen, for you can’t get away.
Slowly but surely the wall of words subside,
Now you know that the end is soon to arrive.
Using the jello-neck head bob as an Indian used scouts,
You can tell that quite soon he’s going to pass out.
Then the worst is over from the optimist’s view,
For it’s now just the snoring and a lip-smack or two.
How can he ignore the obvious signs,
Or the dangers ahead or the problems behind?
But when troubles arise someone else is to blame,
Delusions of conspiracy, no feeling of shame.
And the punishment is merely an inconvenience,
Just a pain in the butt or udder nonsense.
Still the captain moves on from port to bay,
And resumes the next course the very next day.
Written about my brother who I lived with in Fl.
He drank too much and too often.
Thank god he finally quite drinking before he killed someone or himself.
Tarnished ©
A star stuck soul who wanders through life,
Asleep to the world that cuts like a knife.
Desperate hopes of pipedreams as yet unfound,
Walking though life with his eyes to the ground.
Reaches blindly in the darkness that once was his mind,
Grasping at straws just to see what he’ll find.
Trampled over by people know better then he,
As he searches for clues of what is to be.
More darkened doorsteps, more dismal dreams?
Empty appreciation of how life really seems?
More battles, more scars, more pain yet unseen?
More blood on his hands, can all this be a dream?
Depression, regression to sweeter times before,
Times of rainbows and sunsets and flowers galore.
To the innocents of childhood, when life was still new.
No worries or problems to make him feel blue.
Tired of keeping an eye looking over his shoulder,
For it only gets harder as you get older.
But a voice deep inside says to keep his control,
That in the end you’ll reap the harvest you’ve sown.
Asleep to the world that cuts like a knife.
Desperate hopes of pipedreams as yet unfound,
Walking though life with his eyes to the ground.
Reaches blindly in the darkness that once was his mind,
Grasping at straws just to see what he’ll find.
Trampled over by people know better then he,
As he searches for clues of what is to be.
More darkened doorsteps, more dismal dreams?
Empty appreciation of how life really seems?
More battles, more scars, more pain yet unseen?
More blood on his hands, can all this be a dream?
Depression, regression to sweeter times before,
Times of rainbows and sunsets and flowers galore.
To the innocents of childhood, when life was still new.
No worries or problems to make him feel blue.
Tired of keeping an eye looking over his shoulder,
For it only gets harder as you get older.
But a voice deep inside says to keep his control,
That in the end you’ll reap the harvest you’ve sown.
R.V.W. ©
A few awake in a world asleep,
A sober few whose sows they reap.
Alert and active constantly,
Struggling beyond needs for security.
Working and striving just to stay in the lead,
But blind to true reality.
The sleeper knows of how life seems,
That in the end, life’s but a dream.
A sober few whose sows they reap.
Alert and active constantly,
Struggling beyond needs for security.
Working and striving just to stay in the lead,
But blind to true reality.
The sleeper knows of how life seems,
That in the end, life’s but a dream.
4 A.M. ©
Condemned to live out a life of solitude,
A bitter sweet truth I cannot elude.
To never know love, deprived happiness,
By barriers of belief, a moral difference.
See different is frightening and ignorance unfair.
But who understands anything when fear’s in the air?
If all hope is lost to make life complete,
Then why go on living shadowed by defeat?
Loneliness with grief is like salt on a wound,
For it makes an unpleasant situation balloon.
Then emotions like anger and hatred arise,
Stemming from jealousy for the joy I’m deprived.
To see love all around, beauty to admire,
Is a torturous tease of what I desire.
I fear to even try, for what then may spring?
See, to have and to keep are two different things.
So I do not believe or have faith or hope,
I’ve run out of answers, at the end of my rope.
Why this sentence of solitude which darkens my soul?
For me it’s a punishment for something untold.
If a crime was committed have I not served my time?
A twisted form of punishment to have ones life deprived.
Why does love elude me? All I ask is a clue,
But there’s no book of answers for me to look though.
A bitter sweet truth I cannot elude.
To never know love, deprived happiness,
By barriers of belief, a moral difference.
See different is frightening and ignorance unfair.
But who understands anything when fear’s in the air?
If all hope is lost to make life complete,
Then why go on living shadowed by defeat?
Loneliness with grief is like salt on a wound,
For it makes an unpleasant situation balloon.
Then emotions like anger and hatred arise,
Stemming from jealousy for the joy I’m deprived.
To see love all around, beauty to admire,
Is a torturous tease of what I desire.
I fear to even try, for what then may spring?
See, to have and to keep are two different things.
So I do not believe or have faith or hope,
I’ve run out of answers, at the end of my rope.
Why this sentence of solitude which darkens my soul?
For me it’s a punishment for something untold.
If a crime was committed have I not served my time?
A twisted form of punishment to have ones life deprived.
Why does love elude me? All I ask is a clue,
But there’s no book of answers for me to look though.
Somewhere in the darkness between dusk and dawn,
Is an endless eternia where the mind wanders on.
Written during a very depressing time in my life.
I no longer feel this way even though I am once again alone.
It’s my choice and I’m happy with it.
Is an endless eternia where the mind wanders on.
Written during a very depressing time in my life.
I no longer feel this way even though I am once again alone.
It’s my choice and I’m happy with it.
I was told to show more of my darkside.
Nov 29, 2005
Cupid's Arrow ©
As I think of when I’ll see you again,
My heart begins to pound.
Anticipation fills my body,
For the joy that is abound.
I have waited an eternity,
But would wait a million more.
For a chance to pick up,
Where I left off so many years ago.
With the first time I saw you,
Cupid’s arrow struck me true.
And from that great day forward,
I have been in love with you.
For every man has a fancy,
A true woman of his dream.
Mine has long, blonde, flowing hair,
And skin as soft and smooth as cream.
Eyes that flicker like fire,
And lips both soft and warm.
With a deep, sweet, sexy voice,
As thrilling as a summer storm.
Your love is as sweet as honey,
That drips down upon my tongue.
And leaves me craving more and more,
The sweetness yet to come.
Though the time we’ll share together,
Is so precious and so few,
It the things that dreams are made of,
And for me a dream come true.
My heart begins to pound.
Anticipation fills my body,
For the joy that is abound.
I have waited an eternity,
But would wait a million more.
For a chance to pick up,
Where I left off so many years ago.
With the first time I saw you,
Cupid’s arrow struck me true.
And from that great day forward,
I have been in love with you.
For every man has a fancy,
A true woman of his dream.
Mine has long, blonde, flowing hair,
And skin as soft and smooth as cream.
Eyes that flicker like fire,
And lips both soft and warm.
With a deep, sweet, sexy voice,
As thrilling as a summer storm.
Your love is as sweet as honey,
That drips down upon my tongue.
And leaves me craving more and more,
The sweetness yet to come.
Though the time we’ll share together,
Is so precious and so few,
It the things that dreams are made of,
And for me a dream come true.
Written to Dreams woman
Precious and Few ©
I’ve told of the beauty I see in your eyes,
And how your smile brightens the darkest of skies.
So now I’ll begin to describe all the rest,
Of the many marvels that to me makes you the best.
For your physical beauty is beyond all compare,
From your cute little toes to your flowing blonde hair.
There’s your smooth silky skin, as soft as a rose,
Your sensuous legs, your long slender nose.
But to me this is just icing on a delicious cake,
For your stunning stature isn’t all that’s at stake.
See, your much more to me than a wondrous sight,
Than a body to dream of late in the night.
Because the things that I hold most dear about you,
Is the charm and the style in all that you do.
It’s your warmth and compassion that I love the most,
Your sensitivity and caring, I heart fully boast.
Because to me you are truly precious and few,
One in a million, a queen to be true.
Gentle, understanding, special in every way,
And that’s how in my heart you’ll for ever stay.
Though your delicate touch can give so much pleasure,
It’s your passion and zest that I’ll cherish forever.
And if I put you out of reach, on a pedestal high,
I’ll sure sprout wings and learn how to fly.
And how your smile brightens the darkest of skies.
So now I’ll begin to describe all the rest,
Of the many marvels that to me makes you the best.
For your physical beauty is beyond all compare,
From your cute little toes to your flowing blonde hair.
There’s your smooth silky skin, as soft as a rose,
Your sensuous legs, your long slender nose.
But to me this is just icing on a delicious cake,
For your stunning stature isn’t all that’s at stake.
See, your much more to me than a wondrous sight,
Than a body to dream of late in the night.
Because the things that I hold most dear about you,
Is the charm and the style in all that you do.
It’s your warmth and compassion that I love the most,
Your sensitivity and caring, I heart fully boast.
Because to me you are truly precious and few,
One in a million, a queen to be true.
Gentle, understanding, special in every way,
And that’s how in my heart you’ll for ever stay.
Though your delicate touch can give so much pleasure,
It’s your passion and zest that I’ll cherish forever.
And if I put you out of reach, on a pedestal high,
I’ll sure sprout wings and learn how to fly.
Yet another to the Dreams woman.
My Wild Mountian Flower ©
Like a gift to never take for granted,
Like a dream to hold ‘till the end.
Like a wish come true in an instant,
This is how it feels seeing you again.
For anything truly worth having,
Is definitely worth waiting for.
And patients tempers the excitement,
That fills and thrills me to the core.
But time, like life, is so precious,
And so are you my wild mountain flower.
So I’ll hold tight to the tempests reigns,
And count down to the magic hour.
When again I’ll be intoxicated,
From drinking in your eyes so bright.
And drowned myself in the beauty,
Of their effervescent light.
Much like a rose, a thing of beauty,
Unchanged and unsurpassed in time.
Those treasured jewels do burn intense,
To consume me deep inside.
To richly bath in their coronas,
Unbridled joy lies in those rings.
Much as an angel sent from heaven,
Down on gilded, gossamer wings.
As beautiful as the purple flower,
From the bush which bares her name.
Who’s foliage spreads across the mountains,
And splendor still remains untamed.
Like a dream to hold ‘till the end.
Like a wish come true in an instant,
This is how it feels seeing you again.
For anything truly worth having,
Is definitely worth waiting for.
And patients tempers the excitement,
That fills and thrills me to the core.
But time, like life, is so precious,
And so are you my wild mountain flower.
So I’ll hold tight to the tempests reigns,
And count down to the magic hour.
When again I’ll be intoxicated,
From drinking in your eyes so bright.
And drowned myself in the beauty,
Of their effervescent light.
Much like a rose, a thing of beauty,
Unchanged and unsurpassed in time.
Those treasured jewels do burn intense,
To consume me deep inside.
To richly bath in their coronas,
Unbridled joy lies in those rings.
Much as an angel sent from heaven,
Down on gilded, gossamer wings.
As beautiful as the purple flower,
From the bush which bares her name.
Who’s foliage spreads across the mountains,
And splendor still remains untamed.
Written to Dreams woman
Nature's True Beauty ©
When the sunrise turn darkness to golden,
And the bird songs shatter the still.
The summer’s sweet breeze starts a blowin’,
The flowers scents across the hills.
As dawn break over the mountains,
To show off the valley’s thick hue.
You can marvel at nature’s grand curtain,
For this splendor is how I see you.
See, as nature reveals all it’s beauty,
As an artist with canvass or clay.
The most priceless to me of all these work to me,
Is your presence through-out the day.
So as sunset paints the last clouds,
In red, pink and orange swirls.
Before night can unfold it’s dark shroud,
Leaving you to reflect on the world.
As the crickets start their night's song,
I’ll express once again my devotion.
How I dream of you all evening long,
And my days are filled with emotion.
For a woman’s who blue eyes pales the skies,
And who’s smile surly makes the sun jealous.
Who’s soft voice must bring birds to cry,
For it strips them of all that they relish.
They say god created the earth,
The heavens and all that’s between.
But to me the one of most worth,
Is you, the girl of my dreams.
And the bird songs shatter the still.
The summer’s sweet breeze starts a blowin’,
The flowers scents across the hills.
As dawn break over the mountains,
To show off the valley’s thick hue.
You can marvel at nature’s grand curtain,
For this splendor is how I see you.
See, as nature reveals all it’s beauty,
As an artist with canvass or clay.
The most priceless to me of all these work to me,
Is your presence through-out the day.
So as sunset paints the last clouds,
In red, pink and orange swirls.
Before night can unfold it’s dark shroud,
Leaving you to reflect on the world.
As the crickets start their night's song,
I’ll express once again my devotion.
How I dream of you all evening long,
And my days are filled with emotion.
For a woman’s who blue eyes pales the skies,
And who’s smile surly makes the sun jealous.
Who’s soft voice must bring birds to cry,
For it strips them of all that they relish.
They say god created the earth,
The heavens and all that’s between.
But to me the one of most worth,
Is you, the girl of my dreams.
To you know who.
Your Beautiful Smile ©
When I go to close my eyes before I start to sleep,
In my mind your beautiful smile start to creep.
And I’m reminded when I am surrounded by gloom,
How your beautiful smile does just light up the room.
Or when I’m angry or consumed in fear,
Your beautiful smile just fill me with cheer.
How talking to you causes me great distress,
For your beautiful smile leaves me speechless.
So I sit there dumbfounded, awestruck all the while,
Thinking to myself “what a beautiful smile”.
And I hope some day soon I can see it again,
The beautiful smile of a beautiful friend.
And I know if the sun should ever burn out and die,
Your beautiful smile will brighten the sky.
In my mind your beautiful smile start to creep.
And I’m reminded when I am surrounded by gloom,
How your beautiful smile does just light up the room.
Or when I’m angry or consumed in fear,
Your beautiful smile just fill me with cheer.
How talking to you causes me great distress,
For your beautiful smile leaves me speechless.
So I sit there dumbfounded, awestruck all the while,
Thinking to myself “what a beautiful smile”.
And I hope some day soon I can see it again,
The beautiful smile of a beautiful friend.
And I know if the sun should ever burn out and die,
Your beautiful smile will brighten the sky.
Yet another for the Dreams woman.
Dreams ©
I dream of a world where your eyes are the stars,
And everyone worships the night.
A world where your lips are the blankets that warms me,
They comfort me though all my plights.
I dream of a world where your smile is the sun,
That shines down to brighten my day.
In my world the birds sing out in your voice,
Their wings beat out your name.
Your arms are the trees that shelter and protect,
They hold back the strongest of winds.
And your hair is a waterfall that pours down on me,
To freshen and cleans me again.
But to hope is to realize the possibility,
So you see I have only dreams.
But in my dreams the world is more wonderful,
Than reality could ever be.
See in the world of my dreams the grass is true green,
And the sky is the purest of blues.
For you are my dreams, and you are my world,
And I truly do love you.
And everyone worships the night.
A world where your lips are the blankets that warms me,
They comfort me though all my plights.
I dream of a world where your smile is the sun,
That shines down to brighten my day.
In my world the birds sing out in your voice,
Their wings beat out your name.
Your arms are the trees that shelter and protect,
They hold back the strongest of winds.
And your hair is a waterfall that pours down on me,
To freshen and cleans me again.
But to hope is to realize the possibility,
So you see I have only dreams.
But in my dreams the world is more wonderful,
Than reality could ever be.
See in the world of my dreams the grass is true green,
And the sky is the purest of blues.
For you are my dreams, and you are my world,
And I truly do love you.
This poem was written to the one true love in my life
(hence forth Called the Dreams Woman)
I wrote about 15 poems over many years
for her to show her how much I loved her,
But in the end she chose someone else.
for her to show her how much I loved her,
But in the end she chose someone else.
This Poem was also published on 10/06
In Your Eyes ©
In your eyes are the beauty of a thousand sunsets,
Only rainbows and waterfalls combined are closest.
A million fireworks or a billion starry skies,
Isn't close to the beauty I see in your eyes.
Ten thousand poets writing for ten thousand years,
Could start to describe the beauty I hold dear.
See, there's truly no words for a marvel as such,
For your twinkling eyes fill my heart with so much.
With the slightest of winks you can make time stand still.
When your eyelashes flutter I get such a thrill.
If the Aurora Borealisis was dancing over head,
I would rather watch the shimmer in your eyes instead.
For they are captivating like flowers in bloom,
Just thinking of them does make my pulse zoom.
I'd feel truly blessed just to see them each day,
And humbled in their presence is where I would stay.
I could get lost forever just starring at you,
Yet never grow tired of the beautiful view.
Only rainbows and waterfalls combined are closest.
A million fireworks or a billion starry skies,
Isn't close to the beauty I see in your eyes.
Ten thousand poets writing for ten thousand years,
Could start to describe the beauty I hold dear.
See, there's truly no words for a marvel as such,
For your twinkling eyes fill my heart with so much.
With the slightest of winks you can make time stand still.
When your eyelashes flutter I get such a thrill.
If the Aurora Borealisis was dancing over head,
I would rather watch the shimmer in your eyes instead.
For they are captivating like flowers in bloom,
Just thinking of them does make my pulse zoom.
I'd feel truly blessed just to see them each day,
And humbled in their presence is where I would stay.
I could get lost forever just starring at you,
Yet never grow tired of the beautiful view.
Also written to the dreams woman.
This is the one I submitted to a contest of about 3000 poems
and ranked in the top 30.
This poem was published in their book.
Nov 28, 2005
The Morals of Apathy ©
As I view our society, our loss of integrity,
I feel my faith slipping away.
No values that I can see, the morals of apathy,
Our pride and our honor’s betrayed.
Like self absorbed sheep, we go through life asleep,
Oblivious to the cycles of change.
Our trust you can’t keep, our truths are too cheap,
And the absents of balance remains.
Perhaps it’s the coddling, how mothers protectingly
Block off the experience of life.
For the pains that we’re feeling, are like lessons in healing,
That teaches us what’s wrong and right.
Maybe I’ve grown cynical, my view point unethical,
But we are as our nature dictates.
And the patterns in all, form the rise and the falls,
That carries us to our own fate.
If fears in your eyes, you’ll learn to despise
All that you don’t understand.
Then the walls start to rise, till they block out the sky,
But a tap and they’ll fall down again.
I’m not preaching conformity, just responsibility,
For our actions in the games that we play.
For our loss of nobility can lead to calamity,
As the boundaries start to crumble away.
Our lack of respect and continued neglect,
Are eating away at our minds.
So carve your pound of flesh and ignore or reject,
All the hidden bones that you’ll find.
I feel my faith slipping away.
No values that I can see, the morals of apathy,
Our pride and our honor’s betrayed.
Like self absorbed sheep, we go through life asleep,
Oblivious to the cycles of change.
Our trust you can’t keep, our truths are too cheap,
And the absents of balance remains.
Perhaps it’s the coddling, how mothers protectingly
Block off the experience of life.
For the pains that we’re feeling, are like lessons in healing,
That teaches us what’s wrong and right.
Maybe I’ve grown cynical, my view point unethical,
But we are as our nature dictates.
And the patterns in all, form the rise and the falls,
That carries us to our own fate.
If fears in your eyes, you’ll learn to despise
All that you don’t understand.
Then the walls start to rise, till they block out the sky,
But a tap and they’ll fall down again.
I’m not preaching conformity, just responsibility,
For our actions in the games that we play.
For our loss of nobility can lead to calamity,
As the boundaries start to crumble away.
Our lack of respect and continued neglect,
Are eating away at our minds.
So carve your pound of flesh and ignore or reject,
All the hidden bones that you’ll find.
This was one of the first poems I wrote.
I was very upset about the kinds of people I kept meeting
at a bar I was working at.
The Wolf In the Folds ©
Thought cute a sweet guy, the scheming little runt,
This way he fools others, with his eminent front.
They follow like sheep down the path that he’ll choose,
To a decadent life inside his twisted ruse.
From the cycles of sorrow in the web that he weaves,
To the wake of destruction in the path that he leaves.
Egotistic, self-centered, doesn’t hardly describe,
The vicious, black hearted monster inside.
Who manipulates people for his own happiness,
Stealing their souls to fill his own emptiness.
For his own soul is dead, making him not quite whole.
Hence the sheep are led up to the wolf in the folds.
Led to the using and abusing of life.
Yet blind to the truth that cuts like a knife.
Blind to emotions, aspirations of dreams.
Their fooled by the wolf’s deceptive means.
So the victim is tricked to perceive dirt a gem.
That this cold hearted ghoul cares deeply for them.
This belief is the problem, for it strengthens his bond,
By clouding their judgment to what’s going on.
How when even exposed to the truths of their sorrow,
They delude themselves to the dreams of tomorrow.
Ignoring the scars and the pain he inflicts,
And forever forgiving the son-of-a-bitch.
This cycle must end so the torture can cease,
And free the poor victim to live-out life in peace.
To stop lying and deluding themselves to the facts,
That the wolf cannot and will not ever change his act.
For he likes to use others to satisfy his needs,
It lessen his fears of inferiority.
And he likes to hurt others for it makes him feel strong.
These truths are the proof that it’s time to move on.
To weigh all the options and possibilities,
Clear the haze from their eyes and allow them to see.
See the wolf as he is, uncaring and cold.
How he manipulates people in the lies he has told.
To pick up the pieces and let life go on.
Learn from the experience in choices to come.
And weep not for the wolf, for he won’t cry for you,
This way he fools others, with his eminent front.
They follow like sheep down the path that he’ll choose,
To a decadent life inside his twisted ruse.
From the cycles of sorrow in the web that he weaves,
To the wake of destruction in the path that he leaves.
Egotistic, self-centered, doesn’t hardly describe,
The vicious, black hearted monster inside.
Who manipulates people for his own happiness,
Stealing their souls to fill his own emptiness.
For his own soul is dead, making him not quite whole.
Hence the sheep are led up to the wolf in the folds.
Led to the using and abusing of life.
Yet blind to the truth that cuts like a knife.
Blind to emotions, aspirations of dreams.
Their fooled by the wolf’s deceptive means.
So the victim is tricked to perceive dirt a gem.
That this cold hearted ghoul cares deeply for them.
This belief is the problem, for it strengthens his bond,
By clouding their judgment to what’s going on.
How when even exposed to the truths of their sorrow,
They delude themselves to the dreams of tomorrow.
Ignoring the scars and the pain he inflicts,
And forever forgiving the son-of-a-bitch.
This cycle must end so the torture can cease,
And free the poor victim to live-out life in peace.
To stop lying and deluding themselves to the facts,
That the wolf cannot and will not ever change his act.
For he likes to use others to satisfy his needs,
It lessen his fears of inferiority.
And he likes to hurt others for it makes him feel strong.
These truths are the proof that it’s time to move on.
To weigh all the options and possibilities,
Clear the haze from their eyes and allow them to see.
See the wolf as he is, uncaring and cold.
How he manipulates people in the lies he has told.
To pick up the pieces and let life go on.
Learn from the experience in choices to come.
And weep not for the wolf, for he won’t cry for you,
He has other sheep for him to tend to.
This was written to a young girl I use to work
with, who believed that a guy we worked with
would leave his wife and other girl friend for her,
the young are so easily fooled.
I sraightened her out.
The Looking Glass ©
Come with me now take my hand,
I’ll lead you to a turtle’s land.
Understand me and you will see
A wondrous world where life is free.
See peace and love and Zen are fine,
And I’ve taken journeys through my mind.
But life is real, it’s all around,
You see it, touch it, hear it’s sounds.
The world through, the window life under glass,
To sit back and ponder as the sands of time pass.
For the world is a stage, some watch and some act.
But we all contribute and this is a fact.
Now I’ve been called crazy antisocial and such,
A wet blanket, a downer, a little out of touch.
But I’m just a chronicler, a studier of life,
And I’m not talking religion, politics or tripe.
I watch and I learn, preserving each day.
To view the big picture as some people say.
And I’ve found many people inside each person,
Many voices, a society rolled up in one.
Each with their own feelings, thoughts and beliefs.
Sometimes they are helpful, other times they bring grief.
Now the heart and the soul are the first on your side,
They stand for the goodness, for right and for pride.
Then there’s the conscience to judge your actions,
Of all with which to tangle, this is the worst one.
And the ego, a sissy, with something to prove,
Acting tough and controlling, yet easily bruised.
Now the last ones a trickster, I’ll call it the fly,
Just beware of the thorns when it’s your ally.
For these voices do guild and control what you do,
But if only ones heard the problem shows through.
Hearing just one causes balance to shift,
And the fabric unravels, and the strands start to drift.
Like a jigsaw puzzle with a key piece left out,
An incomplete picture will leave you with doubt.
So when faced with a question listen to each voice,
If you weigh them all even you’ll find the best choice.
But if you chose to ignore the wisdom they speak,
Your actions will reflect this in all that you reap.
Now there are no excuses, no blame to be shared.
Your decisions alone have taken you there.
And though logic and prudence are considered quite stale,
If you use them in union you never may fail.
For if you do right and your judgment is true,
You’ll never have to worry if you win or lose.
So when problems arise, just step back and relax,
And remember, in this life all things do pass.
For as the sun rises and the clock ticks away,
The sun will still set at the end of the day.
The problem will move on like a storm in the night.
And your life will go on despite all the plight.
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