Monthly Archives: December 2013

The Master

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Trap this man, chain him down

Before he takes another round 
His passion now has run awry 
Give him time; someone will cry

He’s lost all sense; there’s no release 
A one track mind; a senseless beast
He’s bottled up and may explode
How long can his patience hold?

Here comes the master with a frown
With just a look, she has him bound 

Inspire

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Miracles happen when two hearts conspire

Souls ignite a wildfire
We give these gifts to each other
Poetry, dreams and love 

Poetic words give the heart a say
Dreams will let our passions play
Love will see us through it
Poetry, dreams and love

The fountain of  joy is found deep in the soul
Hearts should never grow old 
Passions give life meaning
Poetry, dreams and love

Keep yourself bound to those who inspire
Stay close to those you admire.
To lose inspiration is to lose ones life
Poetry, dreams and love

Not a Deficit.

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Look at all the things to experience!
people to enjoy!
Time and proximity hold me back
 How they hate my excitement
All the time I want to break out 
barricades make me anxious
Peace is for those who submit
the opiate of the masses
They want me to become bland
Give up and be calm
when I try, depression sets in
like an animal in the zoo
Here, become like us
take a drug
Sorry my friend, not today
I’m not giving up
barricades be damned…
                                   

On a Whim

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In the whimsical town of pontacaloon

We buy everything with colored balloons. 
Some get away and head to the moon
But we hope they can stay. 

We spend all of our time making whimsical tunes 
Whistle and sing all afternoon
Beautiful songs that make a heart swoon
With smiles on our faces

Our houses are built all over the dunes
We don’t have any walls yet we always have room 
Sand is our floor and there’s never a broom
So we can bury our toes.

If you’re on a whim we’re expecting you soon
The ice cream is ready but bring your own spoon
You’ll always be happy, there are rules against gloom
In the whimsical town of pontacaloon. 



Passions

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Steel and girts 

Made a beautiful form

The destroyer decided
It’s old and worn
You could see the designer
In every beam 
Gave heart and soul
For this inanimate thing
The tragedy’s not cement and steel
It’s in the loss of his passion


Poets and writers 
Know this too well
We read what they wrote
The stories they tell
Each person with struggles 
Though they’re  long past
We see ourselves
In the plays they cast
Every closed book is a tragedy
Not for the words but the passion

Deathbed regrets
Loves that weren’t  wrought
Despite our successes  
What time could have bought
For rich or for poor 
Ambitions will end  
Leaving to all; our passions