Magazine Posts

I'll show you the way,
for it is up to we,
and to you I say,
Yes, Yes, Oui, Oui.

If I say, "I have read,"
it sounds like head,
or I will read,
sounds like deed
or perhaps a reed.
By adding a "Y",
the word becomes ready
and is pronounced like "Betty."
It does not mean I've read,
more like I'm ready to read.
Funny this English language is.

If I say retreat
or turn back.
Try to release,
letting it go
or redo,
do it again
and repeat,
do it once more
or reword,
supply a new word.
How about reduce"?
making it smaller
or use resize.
I like remain,
staying here
or remaining.
A different meaning,
the word result.
How something did end.
Then remember,
capturing an event.
Relive,
to live once more
or use resurface,
to change a cabinet
or floor.
Review,
to see it again
or resow,
spreading more seed,
or replant
a new deed.

Why do I still write,
these words, meaningless for me?
There is no new thoughts here
to discover or to see.
Words lay jumbled, and in awhile,
I'll keep writing and writing
in search, of an absurd style.
Why do I write words for thee,
when life is so uncertain
and I just want to be,
free from the worry
I still have for thee.

The veins in his neck
stood out, like a cord,
as he shouted about his
untruth and his word.
Another lie spoken
to the point it was absurd,
as his promises to the land,
to serve and protect,
uttered under his command
as turmoil and pestilence
ruined by his hand.

Smile after smile,
a waving of hand,
another smile,
she's still in command,
of all the minions,
in this, her own land.

Never make passes
at girls who wear glasses.
I dated a girl.
A girl who wore glasses.
She was a beauty
and she wore glasses.
I tried to give her a kiss.
She tried to do the same.
Raising her head,
as I dropped mine,
my nose struck the bridge
of her glasses,
making a loud noise,
which woke the masses.
This is why you
never make passes
at girls who
wear glasses.

I think of you
as a lost soul,
for you follow me
around, as I work.
I finally understand
what it is.
You have no concept
of what you should do.
Daily routines are
no longer there,
for you to see,
so you put your trust
in my hands. Just me.

I have a ringing in my head.
Probably tinnitus,
except, when I hear your voice
or see the smile upon your face.
It's when I realize and understand
the importance of friendship.
Companionship, as we age, is great,
if you are fortunate.
Sometimes we may be destined
to live a single, solitary life,
caught up in our own unique
style of life structure.
Why is that? I don't know, but
I see it all around, where I live.
Life is what you make it.
Only you can change it.
It isn't easy and will never be,
so go make your own history.

Where goes the night,
when unable to see.
The Moon isn't there,
to brighten the sky
or bring romance,
into this World, ours,
as we languish within,
dwellings, grim and dark.
No Moonbeams, no shining Star
to help those who write
and will say to you,
"Put your faith in the Science
and stem the late tide,
for you are alone."
Hide not, you must,
for all the sadness,
will go far away now.
A Sunrise is coming,
it will brighten the day.
Don't run from this place.
Please wait and stay.

Come to me now.
Come as before.
Tap on my window,
Knock on my door.
I miss you more now.
Don't ask me what for,
As I know my Soul,
Is nearing Death's Floor.
Please stay here, with me
And watch my Soul soar.

What is this life,
in which we dwell?
In an aging body,
a most fragile shell.
Bring forth the help,
I will not tell,
for my life descends,
a path to Hell.

The patter of rain,
heard on the roof,
as droplets, the same
strike the window pane.
A sharp wind blows;
the water does spray
across the patio surface,
against the kitchen door.
Life is so uncertain,
in the Nation's History...
Why is my writing,
no longer legible?
Best go to bed
as it is past 4 in the morning.
Good night all.