Poetry book cover This poetry collection can be purchased at http://www.amazon.com/dp/147837022x

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

I’m too short for the runway,
and too heavy for the track.
I like my TV. and junk food,
what’s so wrong with that.
My hair is too curly,
and my smile to small.
But our God made me this way,
all in all.
To whom it may concern.
My spirit is strong and my soul is deep.
I like cold beer and pizza,
and movies that make me weep.
I love you all dearly.
So please let me be me.
“““““““““““““““
WHEN I REMEMBER

When I remember my past.
I don’t want to re-live them.
Just never hate or forget them.
Where did the time go?
It all seemed so fast.
To be young again, how nice.
To relive my good times twice.
Cant life be given simply, quiet?
Instead of earned with sweat and strife.
We last just a little while.
To find love and happiness.
In a world that lives to beguile.
How could one ever know,
why life is meant this way.
To reach that point of no new growth.
When all memories fade away.
With each new setting sun,
the day is over-done.
Yesterday’s hopes are now the past.
Oh how I wish to tuck them aside.
To keep them forever.
To the end of time.
““““““““““““““““
SOMETHING EVIL STIRS

Something evil stirs in my town.
A festering unrest.
A defiant unease, a growing anxiety.
Moving ever so softly,
like whispers on the wind.
This thing comes swiftly.
No warning-as silent as breath.
Drenched in malice, it nears.
A friend to chaos, sloth and death.
So quick-a malignant mass.
Leaving behind the useless and morally dead.
So forceful, that many become chaff.
Consuming everyone within its wake.
It fed well-as always.
Until the next time-devouring all.
Slipping into homes, like fog on the bay.
Youthful disenchantment suffocates all.
Beware the beast is red as fire.
A mass of hate and poison.
Our dictators battle the war with little success,
for the King and his court,
squabble like school boys.
Only socialism will sooth the beast.
An iron fist cloaked in velvet is needed.
Something evil stirs.
I am ready-standing tall and strong.
I draw strength from within.
Honor rules my mind.
Courage stirs my desire to win.
For the beast is-procrastination.
“““““““““““““““`
A CRUEL JOKE

What beauty is annihilation?
A mere uniqueness of a feeling.
Rendering such chaos,
makes even death seem more graceful.
We are the curious creatures,
wanting all and nothing.
Our wants are our nourishment.
Needs that sustain, control and destroy us.
Our silent, but self appointed creators.
Little more then owners, masters and dictators.
Disenchanted, they scoff at their slothful human result.
Rendering us the will to be both productive and destructive.
Our first breath, may be the start of our end.
Fascinated by love-hypnotized by our egos,
we live and die in the box we call life.
This perfect imperfection, called humanity.
An experience born of beauty and destruction.
A fearful and intricate weaving of life.
Taking without sharing or giving,
like the selfish husband to his submissive wife.
My head fills with nonsense.
Clouding my vision of reality.
As dumb as a newborn,
or love without romance.
A optimistic fool I am,
thinking they like me.
Not for my uniqueness, but
for what I perceive to be.
It is time, and I am pleased.
Until my joy fades like smoke.
I failed to excite or appease.
For their mastered kindness was merely a cruel joke.