To Those Who Should be Happy.

Oh, can't you see the sun
when a hard decision's made
and a gut-wrenching deed is done?
Would you celebrate it or let
the doubts eat you away?
There's never a single line,
but a feeling you're on the
right track & something's different
this time. More to lose &
not caring what is to gain.
One train leaves without
you & it's still a happy day.

Don’t Run Away.

It's hard, no? When you had enough &
ready to call it quits.
Where you're down on your knees to
pray, throwing pride away.
Don't you know it's good for you, get
lost in a brand new space.
Don't run away, now, ageless voices
are cheering you on.
Make yourself the guide & them your
witness, through winter comes spring.
When you're at your lowest, know that you
are never alone, feel the warmth.
It's your chance at living, like those that
came before, make them proud.
Don't run away, now, it's your gravest
self saying, "Don't run away."

To seniors of a retirement home.

Your eyes, they shine so bright.
There’s no longer confusion,
only the yearning for life.

The rest of your body’s
ceased to thrive,
prepping the soul for the flight.

No longer have a fear of death,
only the dream to see
the loved ones one more time.

Closer to the ground now
with an open blue sky.
Everything you imagined
now it’s the time.

Miseries.

All my folks know is miseries
from the cradle to the grave.
All they know is miseries,
that’s where they seem to live.

They hand me down their miseries,
they let it roll and it rolls.
From wide-eyed to pinched heart
no way to count its toll.

All I know is miseries,
and the supposed black hearts and deeds.
All I expect is miseries,
it’s the one thing I can see.

I don’t want no miseries,
one thing ends another can begin.
The fear and longing for miseries
are the reason we are not free.

I don’t see no miseries
maybe you’ve made me blind.
I don’t accept no miseries
not from you or any one.

I don’t create my own miseries,
just having fun giving it a run.
Don’t talk to me about miseries.
It is just one of them.

To Inspiration.

Hello, Inspiration:

This is your unfaithful servant.
It’s not my fault you’d chosen a coward
and won’t stop blasting her with visions.
I’m not responsible for your noises
nor the beauty that I’ve seen
for I’m not the one that’s destroying it
though I’ll admit it’s kinda pretty.

Without you where I’d be?
Pretty sure I’d be more at ease
enjoying the sun & the days without the heartache
that I’d be missing out of anything.
Sometimes I wish I don’t see
the future that can be
or the present that bothers me
and just be OK to be aloof
and write coward songs
and coward poems
thinking out loud but apologize
with every opportunity.
But what is this?
Are you the voice that’s killing me?
Toiling over & over all alone?
To what end so far from home?

This is a coward song
telling you I’m late again.
Can’t help with the hesitations
nor the shaky voice & the shaky hands.
It’s never getting easier
I know that now.
For every drop of water, a world.
And every human being,
her own heaven & hell.