Magazine Posts

If life has beaten you down,
if all the breaks, go against you,
you must stand up, once more.
Be assertive, would be what to do.

What games we play
in Life's charade.
Acting lessons were
for the daily parade.

Acts we play,
characters we use,
to fool others
as we peruse.

those actions we
every day, choose,
to be the life actor,
we wish to use.

Is it a sham,
playing this game
of interaction with
others we can name.

A thousand days,
a thousand sighs.
What happens,
when love dies?

A million smiles,
and smiling eyes.
What happens,
when love dies?

A lot of anger,
and I apologize.
What happens,
when love dies?

A misunderstanding,
before my demise.
What happens,
when love dies?

Too many excuses,
too many lies.
What happens,
when love dies?

Loving you forever,
thinking I was wise.
What happens,
when love dies?

Too many heartaches,
too many cries.
What happens,
when love dies?

Love blooms eternal
when you realize.
What happens,
when love dies?

Revenge can be sweet,
a dish best served cold.
It takes your courage,
being quite bold.

Write of your feeling,
racing through your head.
Choose your words wisely,
for someday they'll be read.

Don't be shy,
of what was said.
Write down the words,
your mind selects, instead.

Words you purchased,
or words you lend,
are unimportant, if,
your world ends.

Life is forever,
until it's not.
The happiness you seek,
cannot be bought.

What is there about love,
making me feel this way?
Love exists for all,
everyone is in play.

Worry not about tomorrow
or the choice we bring,
for love will persist
in songs we will sing.

Love is there for many things
it can be very forgiving,
but only for those in life
who keep on living.

Love matters not to another,
what they love is working,
perhaps, it means little,
or it may mean a ring.

Every life has a beginning,
like the songs we sing.
Start your life with laughter
and to your song, bring.

All the desires, for tomorrow,
of this you should always bring
information, which is specific,
to all your songs, to sing.

Using words of pleasure
which make your head ring,
creates the aura of your soul
tugging at our heart strings.

When all of the tomorrows,
have passed and gone away,
may we remain here on earth,
to sing, laugh and play.

What are the costs
for all the baggage we bring,
in everything we know,
even in the saddest thing.

Here, I sit writing,
at a quarter past 3,
asking the morrow,
where will I be.

Here with your loved one,
so important to me,
together, once more,
with myself and thee.

Who in the World,
said, "nothing is free?"
You have your imagination,
belonging only to thee.

You can always travel,
to those faraway lands,
finding many adventures,
on cool, white sand.

Exploring jungles,
many animals to see,
in your dreams,
where they'll be.

Pick up a magazine
or a photography book,
searching the pages
of the photographs took.

You will find your
own story to tell,
about all the travels,
through Glen and Dell.

A careless use
of a spoken word,
makes little sense,
when it is absurd.

Hurtful words, are heard,
more often they're inane.
My question seems to be.
Am I becoming insane?

Words once held,
with pride and joy,
were used too often,
starting to annoy.