Magazine Posts

Words, pour forth,
from out my brain.
Describing it,
as a runaway train.

No reason to,
no rhyme to make,
words flow freely,
mine to take.

Put the words,
into a sack,
return to the sender,
no postage back.

Crazy words, echo,
I cannot see,
I don't know,
if they're from me.

Find the day.
Take it back.
Select another,
a different tack.

What light pokes,
through the morning haze?
A greyish sheet,
with a tear, streaking,
across the broad expanse.

A light, a brilliant source,
to bring forth, joy,
lessening remorse.
the greyness,
will still cling,
to all we see,
amongst the living.

You speak of senseless things.
What fare have they wrought,
spewing words, without facts,
what battles, yet to be fought.

When did this change occur?
Why is lying the norm?
Where is the Golden Rule,
is there an impending storm?

Morality is degraded, now,
this needs to change.
The current question is,
how can we rearrange?

It was good,
to see you today,
in spite of being
30 feet away.

No matter the reason,
I can't explain why,
a familiar face
which catches my eye.

You stopped by later,
saying "Good morning, hello,"
a delightful surprise,
for this old fellow.

Spawn of Satan,
you have cast our spell,
upon a loved one,
doing it quite well.

I sat by my wife,
she wants me to stay
with her,
every second, every day.

Time, slowly passes,
the swearing begins,
"I hate you, you SOB,
never want to see you again."

How does a beautiful person,
change so quickly, this way?
Such hateful emotions,
I should just go away.

Cumulus clouds,
extend to the land,
bringing darkness.
It's raining again.

A little sunshine,
to warm the air,
would be a change,
to the grey winter fare.

Stay,
tell the story,
of this odd array,
the lies of glory

A lifetime ago,
would you stay
and love me
or answer, Nay?

If you've found another
and go away.
Please don't leave.
I beg you to stay.

Long ago,
far in our past,
the plains, were
covered with
Seas of grass.
Blowing winds,
helped move the seeds,
choosing land, barren,
well in need of ground cover.
From little seeds,
the grasses awoke,
spreading roots,
to nourish
the land,
"America the Beautiful."

I love you so.
Yes, you and you.
I know not your name
or what you do.

Understand, please,
at this advancing age,
wanting grandchildren,
to turn the page.

No more the offspring,
to adore and nourish,
growing with a love,
we can cherish.

Why are there thoughts,
still stuck in my head,
as I'm trying to sleep,
on top of my bed.

I am tired now,
having nothing to say.
Please leave me alone,
my mind is in dismay.

Come sit with me,
here on the floor.
I will tell you stories,
from the days of yore.

Tales of an early
sunrise,
when day is abloom,
with a million sighs,

Sighs of I love you,
fill the morning air.
Words of joy,
none of despair.

Words which capture,
what you have done,
in the early morning,
with heat from the Sun.

Whence came I,
buffoon, which I am?
Are my emotions, playthings,
for this wretch of a man?

Please spare me the trouble,
don't waste my time.
If you don't like me,
I'll sit here and whine.