Busy

Sit with me for a while
I've got so much to tell
about the passing of time
about heaven and hell

Nothing fancy
nothing romantic
just some things
down to earth

About our world, the Light
our souls, the arts
About my work and life
and its falling apart

Sit with me a while
as the magic fills the air

Take a little drink
lift your glasses high
Soon we'll be on the brink
climbing up into the sky

Savor the warm feeling
of the whiskey going down
let it spin your head around

Take a little smoke
breath the fire into your lungs
sit with me a while
as the magic fills the air

And the stars shine
up in the sky for you
And your eyes shine
like crystal oceans blue

And the magic fills the air...

Sit with me a while
lift your glasses high
we'll draw another drink
from the wishing well
and then we can
climb up into the sky

Have a little patience my friend
for everyone here is acting drunk
on this night that never ends
So have a little drink
and sit with me for a while...

There will never be anyone who loves you as much as me
They won't care for you the way I do
hold you, caress you, whisper in your ear the way I do

No one will ever provide for you
swear for you
bear for you
the way I do

I am the only one you will ever need

I will cry for you
lie for you
die for you
if that is what you want

I will buy for you
vie for you
fly for you
if that is what you need

There will never be anyone who loves you as much as me
They won't care for you the way I do
hold you, caress you, whisper in your ear the way I do

Love you
rub you
give to you
live for you

Hug you
hold you
run to you
work for you

Kiss you
miss you
crawl to you
steal for you

There will never be anyone who loves you as much as me
They won’t care for you the way I do
hold you, caress you, whisper in your ear the way I do

Not the way I do...

we both
deeply embraced
affectionately impassioned

infinitesimally intertwined
engaging emotions
of love

a spark
igniting passion
unhindered expansion

uconditional inversion
creating vivacity
one soul

all mass
converted energy
reproducing metabolism

existential perseverance
animated activity
our life

we both
deeply embraced
passionately affectionate

How can puppies be so playful?
How can puppies be so cute?
Easy to be held, easy to hold

How can puppies stir such feelings?
How can they  become our best friends?
Easy to pet, easy to play fetch

Specially puppies who bark at strangers
Who run about chasing evil squirrels
Do you ever watch their waggily tails?
How about that man's best friend?
We all need a friend

How can puppies be so playful?
You know what I am talking about
Easy to pet, easy to play fetch
Specially puppies who bark at strangers
Who run about chasing evil squirrels
Do you ever watch their wiggly tails?
How about that man's best friend?
We all need a friend

How can puppies be so playful?
How can puppies be so cutel?
Easy to pet, easy to hold

Easy to pet, easy to hold
Come on
Easy to love, easy to hold
Easy to pet, easy to hold
Much too easy to play fetch

(note: this poem is actually a rewrite of a popular song, can you guess the artist and album?)

Farm hand Hickory
they called him
a heartless humming human
first shown in black and white
cut Buddy right out of the picture

By a simple twist of fate
a heavy house
and rusty shoulders
Nick Chopper met his mates

Haley's comet rose
in a land where the road
is paved in bricks of gold

In a lullaby over and over
of somewhere that I dreamed of.

The oil can changed his life forever

She sacrificed everything
her figure
her fingers
her career
her bones

She shepherded selflessly
with milk
with music
with lessons
with combs

Her love was undying
in tears
in laughter
in worship
in home

She knitted hearts together
for God
for country
for friends
for foes

Mother gave us warmth and light
at birth
at supper
at death
at the throne

In front of the classroom
her hands covered in chalk dust
the freckle faced redhead
scribbles on the blackboard
our secret code for all to see

No one knows what she really means
when she writes 1 + 1 = 3
no one knows at all
except me...

On Sunday we'll get together
go dancing round the church
On Sunday we'll get together
go dancing round the church

Out in the garden
kitty captures
butterflies
Out on the lawn
wasp stings doggy
on the nose

The freckle faced red head cries
"Mama,  they all made fun of me"
waiting by her window
waiting for her hero
still the chalk dust covers her hands

"But one and one does make three"
Does no one understand her but me?

On Sunday we'll
go dancing round the church
and on Sunday we'll
go dancing all around the church

She parts her lips
and breaths a deep long sigh
fogging up the window
looking for her hero high up in the sky

Some Sunday we'll go dancing
Some Sunday we'll go dancing
After we get out of church

The kitty dines on its tender vittles
the doggy on kibble and bits
Sister erases the blackboard
The chalk dust falls from her wrists

Sundays come and go
we never danced that dance
1 + 1 = 3
Nobody understood that
except me

Let's pretend for one moment that this is a contest
each suitor vying for your undivided affection
rendering themselves as contenders for the purse
bending meter, rhythm and rhyme in eloquent verse

Let's say for sake of argument that this is a prize fight
each author battling with their wits in contention
pretending as though they carry an incurable curse
of deeply hurting emotions in need for you to nurse

Would you fall for the ploy, the guise, the foible front?
Would you swoon, put your heart in suspension
or buckle to your knees at the lowly blows so terse?
I would rather not be carried away in that hearse

No. I do not wish to contend, to offend or pretend
My heart will not send, nor vend nor even lend
one false hope to my head, that I might fend off
these gentle meddlers and their pennedicuffs

I shall quietly sit outside the ring of folly and foils
and just let my poems stir within the restless tension
of the crowd around this arena. I will submerse
in the jeering and cheering and nothing worse.

It's a jam
the internet scam
with all the spam
and advertising slams

I like my toast buttered
with a sprinkling of cinnamon
and sugar

It's like having peanut butter
stuck to the roof of your mouth
or flying south
in the spring time

I like my eggs sunny side up
and a nice warm cup
of fresh brewed coffee

It's tough going to work
at three thirty in the morning
like eating hardboiled eggs
with out any salt

I like sausage with my breakfast
and a nice piece of fruit
or perhaps some crispy bacon

Its a scam
all this internet spam
just getting jammed
and continually slammed