Why do poets ponder

The birds of the air...

For their beauty, their freedom, their song?

Why do they find peace in asking

Questions that begin with why?

Why are they so willing to share

The inner most part of their soul,

Hidden in symbolic mazes

With hedges high?

I guess what I'm really asking

Is why do I?

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I Remember.

Thank you I say.

For the sacrifice.

You made.

In the dark.

Of the night.

You gave up.

Your life.

So, freedom.

Could be saved.

You lay.

In the ground,

as I look.

Down.

At my friend.

And you're free.

From pains of war.

Tear in my.

Eye.

Pride in my.

Heart.

I will always.

Remember you as.

I have done before...

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Memories of the 1970s, Part 1 (Music Fans)

Disco, Pop, Soul, Reggae, Hardrock, Scar, Punk.

New Wave, Soft Rock, Alternative, Glam, Funk.

Some memories of music in my childhood days.

Capturing in my mind, feelings and emotions I can always replay.

The Commodores were (Still) looking on (The Night Shift) for someone they could call (Three Times a Lady).

Slade was saying (...

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Am I Just a Crackpot.

I keep searching for an explanation.

Yet I find myself contemplating.

The turmoil in my mind is inflicting.

And. the confusion to me it is subjecting.

I feel my wires need to be reconnected.

So, my sanity can be protected.

A simple understanding is rejected.

Maybe my mind is just defective.

Am I clamouring for answers I cannot find.

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Walk In My Shoes.

I've known you since we were at school.

You took the serious side of life.

I spent my youth trying to be the fool.

Yet it was you who had friends by his side.

Education set you up for a fabulous career.

My childhood qualified me to fail.

Nothing fazes you; you had a hard veneer.

I play catch up in the wake of your trail.

Sometimes I envy ...

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I am nobody

When my career is gone

I am nobody

When my money is gone

I am nobody

When my name is gone

I am nobody

When my body is gone

I am nobody!

I am no body?!

I am a nobody who puts some glitter on

I am a no body who I call Myself

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Words can be weaponised
Be careful with the words you use
What might be a throw away sentence to you
Forever imprinted, taunting anothers mind 

When you chose these words 
Did you remember the things about me which only you know
The secrets I don't share freely 
But entrusted with you 

People have preconceived notions
Ready to label and validate assumptions
You saw behind the mask
Y...

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If we could rewind the clock
Would you be different 
So that I could know how it feels
To feel the love of a Father

Maybe I could run into your arms
Instead of away from your fists 
You could be my hero 
Instead of the nightmare that persists

Left with questions I cannot answer 
What version of me were you after 

You never liked my face
So neither did I 
I look in the mirror
And...

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What can we learn from the aftermath of disaster
As we hunt through the wreckage for survivors  
But find only bodies to bury
Sobered by the cruelness of life 
The cruelness of self 

For this was no act of god 
We caused this
I caused this 
With blood on my hands I submit to the reckoning 

I led us down a path of no return 
For I could see the crash site ahead
But I was asleep at th...

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On summer evenings with not much to do,

The wind blows, soft enough to hear my words.

I ask the wind to bring relief,

I ask the wind to feel my pain,

I ask the wind to understand.

But the wind does not reply.

Yet, deep in private moments,

The wind knows more than you or I.

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Moon eyed she goes 

She is one of the stars

Lonesome she is 

In the presence of Mars

Soon her reflection renews

She is a planetary part apart 

Memories become brand-new 

She is solo in this system 

And as the lights dim 

He becomes hers 

She sucks us in 

Until everything’s hers 

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I woke up this morning to the drip drop of rain,

then lie there just thinking how peaceful it was.

Wrapped in the moment, reflecting again

how totally different my life is because

I long ago finally came to myself,

I guess you could say like the prodigal son –

deciding to put errant ways on the shelf,

and live life for something a bit more than fun.

I li...

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In the middle of life there’s a moment of still.

Reminiscing, regretting, “Is there point in it all?”

Looking out in both ways from the top of the hill

as I tumble and shrink to an infinite small.

For I know forever has no end of days,

it leaves me to contemplate just who I am?

And I know that size never ends in both ways,

when you sit in infinity, is there a plan

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I travel across this phenomenal path, a path that trails me to justice, a path that unites me with the lofty dome of the human establishment. From these broken shattered glasses of the dome, I gaze upon the increasing influence of insecurities among these humans. One of the sides of this dome had an air of fear and vengeance while the other parts here repres...

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