God made me

God made me and God made me

To be poor when young To be comfortable when older

To be thin and fit when young To be less so when older

To worry too much when young too worry too little when older

That is the way God made me

Too fast to fall in love when you too slow to trust when older

Too angry when young too quiet when older

Too healthy so negligent when young Too sick so careful when older

That is the way God made me

Summer is here

Summer is here and my mind roams all around

While the sky is burning I watch my shadow on the ground

The more I try to run the bigger circle I am found

To find I never went away I was just traveling round

—

So I hated myself only to find it made me selfish some more

Only to confess that I needed to love and practice amour

So I turned on the music on the radio high

And I got tanned slow brown under the burning sky

—

Friends and games and fun are all around to find

If only I could listen to the noise in my mind

All it takes is a phone call to make a friend happy this way

So would you be cold winter or act like warm summer today

 

poetry is a chore

when poetry becomes a chore

when the poet becomes a bore

when listening becomes a task

a few questions you must ask

—

why I am here and what am I doing

who is bard why am I pursuing

is it an experiment that is ensuing

or is it another self delusion that later on I will be ruing

—

is it once more of the spice of life

does is look like a fork when all we need is a knife

will it be cosy or will it have strife

will it be sparse or will it be rife

—

I dont know I wish I had known instead

I wish I saw it coming right at my head

Instead it was pleasant to dream on in my bed

Than wake up to reality and see its dread

—

sometimes so busy we forget to love oneself

our journal gathers dust on creaky shelf

its true  life can be  bland and become a bore

when we start thinking poetry is now a chore

very whimsical quite random

he is very whimsical he is quite random a bit rough

diagnosed the people who oversee who do this stuff

is he is a poet turned scientist or a scientist turned bard

is he is a spy turned renegade or a hacker bastard

—

the protagonist gathers all the papers all their decoding tries

he tries to answer all the whats and wheres with the why’s

why do the smart play the fool why do the fool  fight

why do the  rebels stay apart why does evil unite

—

so many questions so little time so many rhymes

so many cliches so many soundbytes for the crimes

action unleashed is a dream the american dream is a pawn

we watch the news shake the heads weep for the kids gone

 

 

a poem for yesterday

this is a poem this is a poem for yesterday

because I forgot all about it until today

till reminded and regretted by guilt and dismay

These are the words I chose to say

—

Hey dear friend how do you do

Hey dear friend do you miss me too

Is it just imagination or is it a fact

Doesn’t matter how you feel it matters what you do

—

So maybe I am too much of a poet too stoic a man

So maybe I dont show my emotions as much I can

Know still that emotions run deep here too

Just afraid to jump from fire to the pan