Born Again Agnostic

you feel the need to fuel your dream
returning to a common theme
routinely like a Homing Pigeon
with songs and poems about religion

I know the story, I’ve thought it through
I once believed the same as you
I went to church, I’ve read the book
but then I took a second look

while innocent people die in vain
by famine, flood or hurricane
by the hand of this same god we praise
we just say “he works in mysterious ways”

what kind of god would just stand by
while helpless little children die?
don’t try to tell me there is a plan
that only he can understand

don’t leave your pamphlets in my door
don’t come to my house any more
and if I ever change my mind
you’re really not that hard to find

The Starving Poets

Starving poets have to eat their words
slowly choking on the commas
and spitting out the periods.
Hard to digest thoughts
and awkward meter
leave a bitter taste on the palate.
The lesser read poems are burned in the stove
to ward off the chill of the sub-zero night.
The fire dwindles, ideas have run out
but the harsh wind of winter keeps banging at the door
as cold children stare with solemn blank faces
their bellies are empty,
they have no appetite for words.

Basement Apartment

it was dark, it was small
just a hole in the wall
we could hear all the sounds of the street
but the time that we spent
and affordable rent
made us forget about walls of concrete

So, we made it our own
and we called it a home
though we still couldn’t wait to get out
but with our lack of space
packed in our little place
we learned what true love was about

but that was the past
and it just couldn’t last
now, we live in a big house of wood
when I think of those days
of our underground stays
all the memories I have are all good

At The End Of The Day

At the end of the day
when all’s said and done
will you go home alone
and make dinner for one ?
Will you stop at the tavern
and sit at the bar
or go to the drive-through
and eat in the car?
You vowed to stop drinking
but went back on your pledge
so you have a few drinks
just to take off the edge
and you stay up late
watching mindless T.V.
Do you ever imagine
just how your life could be?
You had a wife and kids
but you left them behind,
you walked out years ago
said you needed some time.
You left in the summer
but soon it was fall
they got on without you,
no one missed you at all.
Now years have passed
and you’re still all alone
no one writes, no one visits,
no one calls on the phone.
Well, that’s how it goes
so, what do you think?
It’s the end of the day
might as well have a drink.

A Small Stone

A small stone sits on a lonely shore
nestled in the silent sand,
but soon the tide approaches
and the stone, encompassed, embraced,
disappears from sight.
The sea retreats as gently as it came
leaving behind a smooth, clean , beach.
I am that stone.
Your love is the sea.

Tattoo

might have been a childish thing to do
but I threw away all my pictures of you
trashed all the letters that you sent
box and all, the whole content
ticket stubs from our first date
I remember how I couldn’t wait
the birthday cards, little love notes,
all the poems you ever wrote
every gift you ever gave
there’s nothing that I want to save
nothing left to remind me of you
but my memories and this damn tattoo

Jury Duty

I thought she was a real beauty
I met her while on jury duty
we spent a lot of time together
each day I got to know her better
she smiled at me, I gave a wave
the judge then ordered I behave
the foreman said, “you gotta end it,
you can not flirt with the defendant “
I had a crush I will admit
that’s why I’m voting to acquit
No, I’m not really that naive
her innocence I don’t believe
but even though the trial’s still pending
my stint as being a juror’s ending

Fleeting Candle

A fleeting candle with both ends burning
getting brighter as flames converge
this cruel world just keeps on turning
from the fire what can emerge?

Could we have slowed the rapid blazes
is the question friends have asked
as they stare with steel-eyed gazes
and contemplate a life that passed

but their candles also burn,
quickly and from both ends, too
maybe this time they will learn
that there’s something they can do

to turn the table on their pain
and maybe find a new direction
so this lost life won’t be in vain
but maybe stir some self-reflection

but these life lessons seldom last
and soon we find we must return
for another life snuffed out too fast
another two-end candle burned

Poker Face

if you have any feelings
you’ve hid them from me
I look in your eyes
but there’s nothing to see
I ask pointed questions
they act as a test
but you hold your cards
so close to the vest
I really can’t tell
if there’s anything there
with your great poker face
and your solemn, blank stare
so, I come out and ask you
as straight as can be
if you have any feelings
in your heart for me
“the game isn’t over”
is what you reveal
“if you want to keep playing
then shut up and deal”

Stolen Property

I trusted  you with my possessions
never thought you’d steal my stuff
now I’m waiting for your confessions
hoping things don’t get too rough

all I want is my property back
return the things you stole from me
although I really didn’t keep track
and don’t expect an apology

the goods which are of most concern
my sense of humor and my sanity
and while you’re at it please return
my heart, my soul and my dignity

Freshwater Mermaids

the only mermaids that I’ve seen
came from fresh water, murky green
unlike the creatures  found in myths
these beings had their top-half fish
they had nice legs I must attest
that was the half I liked the best
until they chased me through the grass
and soon began to kick my ass
but in the air they could not last
these freakishly long-legged bass
back to the lake they soon returned
and swam away quite unconcerned
I stood and watched with such enchant
as they made their way towards the nuclear plant

LYRICS-Middle Class, White Collar, Livin’ in the Suburb Blues

Well, I get up in the morning and my shower’s sometimes cold.
Yeah, I get up in the morning and my shower’s sometimes cold,
And my fuzzy, soft, warm slippers and my bathrobe’s getting old.

You know my woman didn’t leave me and my dog don’t run away.
No, my woman didn’t leave me and my dog don’t run away,
But when I go to the ‘frigerater , sometimes she gets in the way.

Sometimes my kids they watch the Simpsons, when I want to watch the news.
Yeah, my kids they watch the Simpsons, when I want to watch the news.
I got the middle class, white collar, livin’ in the suburb blues.

Well, I went up to the boss man and I asked him for a raise.
Yeah, I went up to the boss man and I asked him for a raise.
He added to my 401 K plan and gave me more paid holidays.

Ain’t got time to change my oil now, ‘cus I’m such a busy man. 
Got no time to change my oil now, ‘cus I’m such a busy man, 
and my Volvo’s in the shop now, got to drive the mini-van.

I’ve got to take the kids to soccer, yeah, I paid my soccer dues.
Got to take the kids to soccer, oh, I paid my soccer dues.
I got the middle class, white collar, livin’ in the suburb blues.

Cloaking Device

living in obscurity
right in plain sight
living in oblivion
in broad daylight
surviving right before your eyes
not as if you even care
living life without disguise
you don’t even know I’m there
cast no shadow, no reflection
doesn’t matter what I do
like being in witness protection
living right in front of you
the only down side I can see
with my new found invisibility
is that even if I beg or plea
you’re just not able to see me

With God on Our Side - (Rondeau)

we should be glad God’s on our side
with every step, with every stride
as we go marching off to war
like all the times we’ve gone before
with confident religious pride

by certain rules we must abide
these laws of man have been applied
while God sits back and keeps the score
we should be glad

back when our country did divide
with North or South did God confide?
or did He know what was in store
did He pick one side to ignore
or did He say, “I can’t decide” ?
we should be glad

Poets Without Borders

Recently I have been out of touch
writing poems for those less fortunate,
those in countries without poetry,
in countries where words are used
only for official, serious communications
it may not have been my best work
it was hard writing under those conditions
doing the best I could to wash the dirty words,
caring for fragmented sentences, compound words,
dangling participles, diphthongs
but I did write, and I’m glad I did
my only regret was that I wish the people
in those countries spoke my language
and knew what I was saying