You Dare to Smile

Bent beneath a load of care, you dare to smile a mile wide,

And let nothing get you down, no frown for you, tis true!

And you dance in the rain, prance through big puddles

To muddle things up a bit, then you laugh, split half your side

To abide in your self-made heaven . . . You dare to smile


Calm Me, O My Beloved

Calm my heart, relax my mind, and rest my soul
From the battle’s high toll this moment in time
With chimes of heavenly peace that never cease
Even in the crease of pain and let me gain entry
Into your train of serenity, my dearest Beloved

Let me feel you near to me and disperse all fear;
Dry my tears and let me hear your song over me,
Sung in harmony with choirs of angels on high
To soften my cry of anguish here on earth below
Where low lays my spirit now . . . Oh, be not slow!

And Every Seed That Grows

Every seed needs to grow through pain to gain its promise,
And t’would be insane otherwise to think it should shrink
From such potentiality in reality of its life now just begun,
When the sun beckons the seed to break free, feed ‘n grow
In the show of maturation by the saturation of an alive life
Within a hive of nature in which it should strive to become
What it was meant to be for all to see one magnificent tree,
And is this not the way with life so rife with pain that gain
Comes not with comfort but that we suffer without buffer?
Ah! Should we pout that our sprout comes about with pain?
But there is pleasure, too, in a measure of genuine growth!
Our reaction is satisfaction in but a fraction of maturation!
Yes . . .
Every seed needs to grow through pain to gain its promise:

What Have You Lost?

It’s not the same anymore with a broken heart;
I walk and talk with you, and it tears me apart!
Yes there are smiles all the while but so vacant
And I just want to cry because I do know
That day we really did say our ‘goodbye;’
It was an ending without any new beginning
But you made your choice with definite voice
And now you’re left alone to just pretend,
Yet fail to apprehend what you have done;
But perhaps I’m wrong and you’re really strong
And at peace with a new lease on living this life;
Ahh! But then you seem to have cut yourself off
From anyone who ever genuinely cared for you!
O what’ve you lost for the sake of that albatross!
But who am I to say?
. . .
It’s not the same anymore with a broken heart;
I walk and talk with you, and it tears me apart!

You Are an Artisan

Sometimes you get hit hard ‘n just feel like crying,
And sometimes even lying in bed hurts your head;
Sometimes you feel like curling up and just dying,
And sighing isn’t enough when you’re truly trying
To do your finest to fight through another life test
When you feel like a unwanted guest in the world
But you stand as tall as you can and give it your all
Even though it seems nobody really understands
And all you get in return are more hard demands
And so you wonder what to do, options too few,
But then you spy pen, pencil, or brush and hush,
For there they all are, instruments for your scars
To turn your pain into some kind of gain yet again
And in turn to bless others and maybe to impress
Something upon their minds and souls to unbind
Them from their own shackles with seeds sown
From your very own life blood . . .
You Are an Artisan

Suffering So Little . . . Really

My body feels like it is surging with electricity,
My lower back racked in continuing spasticity,
My tonicity confused by an inner complexity,
Could it be toxicity that so disturbs my felicity?
So very weary and yet too leery of physicians;
Yet such an awesome autumn day to blossom
In mind and spirit despite the bind of the body;
And shall I complain of pain? There is no gain;
Some whining words will only drive me insane
And nothing change within my physical range;
No, ice is nice on my back and lack of medicine
Is the sad position of many in my ill condition,
And so many in such situations far, far worse!
Oh, and age could account for this awful stage,
But how many more are older and yet bolder
Than I? And with this, shall I die and fly away?
No, no . . . This is not the day; here shall I stay
And make my way as best I can . . . thankfully!

O Scorpion Butterfly, Why?

So soon back into your cocoon, dear butterfly,
But why when so quickly you die if you do not
Spread your wings and fly? Did you even try?
Ah, so you did but now you’ve hidden yourself
From what you think to be a cold, cruel world
Instead of being bold
And have you told yourself you’re now safer
Ensconced away in your shell? Who can tell?
But for awhile you flew, blew through the air
So free and fair, but couldn’t stand the glare
Of the light of truth that shows us what is ugly
As well as beauty; that illuminates our duty
As well as how we may play in the bright day!
No, you hated this so you baited others
To sing your praise and so to amaze you
With adoration for your self-adulation . . .
It was contrived exaltation
In a pitiful self-idolization!
Then did someone dare tell you an awful truth
That clipped your wings? Did they fail to sing
Of your charm and beauty and harm your ego?
Is this why you retreated from this world
And reseated yourself in your ity cocoon?
By why now do you fly out at night to bite
At ones who befriended you? So very trite!
So ghostlike to strike at them then hide again
To begin planning your next covert assault,
But is it really their fault that you fell
After so many honest warning bells?
And tell me, what do you really gain
By trying to cause pain to bygone friends,
In your churning and burning, to try staining
Unsullied reputations caused by disputation
Within your own soul with an unfilled hole?
Nothing . . . you do not even please yourself
In trying to appease your anger and grief
That came from so brief an early sojourn!
You chose your cocoon, again, dear butterfly,
And so do you die because you will not fly,
But do not blame your shame on all others –
On me – for what you have now chosen to be!

Under Canopy of Heaven

Under the canopy of sky
I dream of seamless days
And nights not corroded
By frightening thoughts
Brought to mind
By relentless responsibilities
And limitations . . .
I’d rather fly without hesitation
To some unknown destination
Of beautiful color
And nothing to bother
Where sisters and brothers
Are free to walk and talk
Without fear,
And old men drink their beer
And health and wealth
Are not uncommon
To folk like me,
Whoever they be . . .
Under the canopy of stars
I see afar some day in some land
Bands of women and men
With hands that give and help
And sands of time mean nothing
But something at which to wonder,
And blunders are excused
With laughter and smiles miles long,
And everyone knows that they belong . . .
Under the canopy of heaven
I leaven my dreams
With treasure troves of love
And arms wide open
That would never harm
Or sound an alarm
At someone in rags who carries old bags;
Oh no,
These arms would weave new clothing
And heave the old for new satchels
With all new within each,
And then these arms
Would make a place at the table
With no bill to pay for the meal . . .
Under the canopy of sky
I dream of seamless days
And nights, flowing one into the other,
Glowing with affection
And no infection of greed or hunger,
And no need for seeds of profit,
For all gain is to simply live life
To the fullest without unnecessary pain
Foisted upon one by another son
Of the same human race;
No, here there is no corruption
Of corporation,
But, rather, corporate cooperation
For the alleviation of suffering
And deprivation . . .
Yes, I do dream all my dreams
Under the great canopy above . . .

What Pain So Deep?

What pain runs so deep
That you keep it locked
Away from the daylight
And hid thru the night?

What keeps you so silent?
Was it something violent?
Are you still crying inside,
And dying to tell someone?

Why do you shake your fist at God?
Why do you quake inside a church?
Is there no one in whom to confide?
Will this pain forever reside in you?

You say you felt abandoned by the Almighty,
And this has maddened and saddened you. . .
Are you fearful no one will understand you?
That people will brand you if you open up?

What is this eating you up inside?
What horror do you have to hide?
What is burning your very soul,
Churning and binding your mind?

Come out! Come out! No longer keep the monster caged!
Open up! Open up! Lest you live your lovely life enraged!
Peel away layers of fear, trust someone and begin to heal!
Though you have been shaken, you’ve not been forsaken!
Open and come out where it is secure and find your cure!

Oh! What pain so deep
That you keep it locked
Away from the daylight
And hid thru the night?
Indeed, what pain . . .
Pain driving you insane?

Just Around the Bend

What a strange place to be, so estranged from reality,
Medicated beyond lucidity into the realm of absurdity,
Where what exists is rearranged in an ailing exchange
Of truth for fantasy in the horrid travesty of the vanity
Of doctors trying to cure what had been plainly pure;
But, then, it was the trick of your feigning to be sick,
And now comes the kick of being forever the addict;
What about now, though? Does clear truth still glow
Below the surface of your nerve-wracked existence
In persistent insistence that this is not genuine living
But only false pretense in defense of silly escapism?
What a strange place to be, truly, in deranged reality
That is not reality at all but a fall into a bad nightmare,
But you don’t know that yet, do you? Still, it is so true!
Pills may blind you to bills and gain relief from pain,
But life still goes on to the end . . . just around the bend,
Just around the bend!