Alone With Self

Does it frighten to be alone, alone with your self?
Heighten your blood pressure like an aggressor?
To have your self alone as your only confessor,
Possessor of all your secrets revealed to terrify
With no distractions or attractions to cover over
What is real, what is truth, to seal your very fate?
Does time chime against you in rhyme with fear
So near your heart, turning your soul into a bowl
Of condemnation or pity sinking into damnation?
Can you stand the duration of imposed isolation?
Nowhere to run or hide, just to abide your self . . .
No one with whom to walk and talk, do you balk?
Do you play the fool, or pray for comfort to come?
Does it frighten to be alone, alone with your self?

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Addiction to Poisoned Person

Prediction of addiction is total destruction
Abdication of the soul with no reconstruction
Abandon all of the demands of true reality
Senility of the mind in the bind of death trap
Leave what is behind for your kind of hell
Hear bells toll as fire lights your funeral pyre
Will you ask if he was worth the birth of pain
And what do you gain from being so insane
Straight lane to perdition in your condition
Contrition gone in submission to your position
Admonition unheeded in sedition of the soul
Petition the mortician for removal of remains
Your end has come, no more bends in the road
Bid farewell to the last chance given to dance
Liberty is now but memory by your treachery

Bid Farewell to Your Monster

Does the monster wander back to try to conquer,
To conjure up fears like a stalker from your past?
Even though you have commanded him to leave?
Stand strong, reprimand and demand the demon
Never return; be brave; allow your heart to burn!
Remember that the monster has no right
To cause you fright or to blight your day!
He has no place in this space you call your home;
He has no authority nor any priority in your life;
He has no power over you to tower o’er the soul;
Be finally done with him, then, and let not his sin
Any more room in your heart again to tear apart!
Make him to hear your clarion call
To have him gone once and for all!
Be rid of the demon as you bid your final farewell!
Say your final ‘goodbye’ to the nefarious monster!

Looking to the Streets

Now I really am in trouble,
Tempest tossed and lost,
And I can nearly feel the frost
Of an uncertain future on the streets:
Stranger-vagabond to everyone I meet,
Feet frozen, hands numb, mouth dumb,
Deserted by family and friends,
Ravenous wolves round every bend . . .
And how does it feel to be destitute?
Shall I turn this aging body into a prostitute?
But, O God, have I ever turned away
From someone in need?
Failed to feed the hungry?
Have I been too comfortable in my hole?
Have I been a miser without a soul?
Ah! But thousands ask the same questions,
Do they not? And wonder how it is they got
Where they got and why? And they try
To figure some way out and off vacant lots,
And they scheme and plot because that’s
What they have left, so bereft are they
Of family and friends who care,
And whoever said life is fair?
Then why should I be the privileged one?
Why should I not walk the streets
To the beats of every other homeless heart?
Oh, but I am frightened, my chest tightened;
Lord, can I make it? Can I take it?
Will you walk with me the miles?
Will I still feel the warmth of your smiles?
. . .
One pleading hand reaching for the sky
One cracked voice finally saying ‘goodbye’
. . .
And, after all, will I have a home on high?