Political World

We live in a political world.  Love don’t have any place.  We’re living in times where men commit crimes.  And, crimes don’t have a face.
We live in a political world.  Icicles hanging down.  Wedding bells ring and angels sing.  Clouds cover-up the ground.


We live in a political world.  Wisdom is thrown into jail.  It rots in a cell.  Is misguided as, hell.  Leaving no one to pick up the trail.

We live in a political world…Where mercy walks the plank.  Life is in mirrors, death disappears.  Up the steps into the nearest bank.

We live in a political world…Where courage is a thing of the past.  Where courage is a thing of the past.  Houses are haunted, children are unwanted.  The next day could be your last.

Bob Dylan




Flawed Sinners, Sages and Saints

“In my lifetime, I’m still not right.”

the Indigo Girls


Frail as an, azure manicure…He simply said to me,

“that is what we have left for you.

In such a youthful state…your only tranquility will be a savored, small room set in the mind.”

I could scarcely understand such a, scarred, singed, sage.

No matter the matrimony.

No matter the saint.

No longer…young at middle age.

His terse, flawed quotes…were far from quaint.

Until a debris of wants.

My hoarders bin filled the tapestry in the sacred room.

Cluttering my soul!

A bee swarm!220px-papal_shoes

Being flawed and broken, I held the four walls up to my looking glass.

Plastic abrasions filled my whole.

Among the lonely space…

dreams of nylon insurrection paid for with youthful…tainted cash.

Hell’s Humidity


“Is the glass half-full or empty?”  I ask her as I fill it.

She said,

“It doesn’t really matter…Pretty sound your bound to fill it.”

…..I had been dampened, such as, a cotton towel left in a June rain.  Still, unsanctioned…and moist.  Waiting among the firing flies…

I had no airs to put off…

No need for complaint.

However, in this wet climate…I am not a saint.

I have heard a hundred degrees over the limits…

I have heeded the warnings.

On the road to weather’s hell…to infinity and back…

As my cup began to teeter with drink

All she could muster, again and again…

had been…humid 1

“Be careful…You’ll be bound to spill it.”


Common Call

Sticks and stones.
Battle zones.
A single light bulb.
On a single thread for the black sirens wail.
History fails.
Rose-colored glass begins to age and crack.
While the politicians shadowbox.
The power ring in an endless split decision.
Never solve anything from a neighbor’s distant land.
I heard the strain of the common man.

Well the world seems spent.
And, the president has no good idea.
Of who the masses are.
Well I’m one of them!
And,  I’m among friends
We’re trying to see beyond the fences in our own backyards.
I’ve seen the kingdoms blow.
Like ashes in the winds of change.
But the power of truth?
Is the fuel for the flame!
So the darker the ages get…
There’s a stronger beacon yet.

Let it be me!
If the world is night.
Shine my life…like a light.

In the kind word you speak…

In the turn of the cheek…

When your vision stays clear…
In the face of your fear…
Then you see turning out a light switch.
Is their only power.
When we stand like spotlights.
In a mighty tower.
All for one… And, one for all.
Then we sing the common call!

This is not a fighting song.

Not a wrong for a wrong!

Indigo Girls – Let It Be Me


Pocket Knives and Plath


As if it were just another day,

a child’s attempt to keep the monsters away.

Could say, this scepter of spirit, were for him.

But, truth comes laced with guile…

It is for me,

Wrapped in the words, ‘let it be’.

As the rain turns to sleet.

As the white lies repeat.

A childlike attempt to stumble a fall.

Awkward valor, lanky jabs,

to protest an inevitable stall.

At last, what of these testimonies,

languid walks,

poised crawls.

What if someone walked this very same road.

Read from Plath.

Listened with coerced ear.


I cannot live within the bell of your fear.

awkward 3
the Girl with the Weight of the World in her Hands – 

She won’t recover from her losses
She’s not chosen this path but she watches who it crosses
Maybe move to the right, maybe move to the left
So we can all see her pain, she wears like a banner on her chest
And we all say, “It’s sad” and we think it’s a shame
And she’s called to our attention but we do not call her name
The girl with the weight of the world in her hands

‘Cause we’re busy with our happiness and busy with our plans
I wonder if alone she wants it taken from her hands
But if things didn’t keep getting harder
She might miss her sacred chance to go a consecrated martyr
The girl with the weight of the world in her hands

I wonder which saint that lives inside a bead
Will grant her consolation when she counts upon her need
It makes us all angry though we feign to care
But who will be the scale to weigh the cross she has to bear
The girl with the weight of the world in her hands

-Indigo Girls


Is the glass half-full or empty, I ask her as I fill it
She said it doesn’t really matter, pretty soon you’re bound to spill it
With the half logic language of the sermon she delivers
And the way she smiles so knowingly at me, gives me the shivers
I pull the blanket higher when I’m finally safe at home
And she’ll take a hundred with her but she always sleeps alone
The girl with the weight of the world in her hands