I hadn't written for days,
not even in hours,
until this time.
Watching all the sorrows,
poured forth on their march,
for days on the morrow.
Drown out the pain
enter the chaos,
for we are God's children.
All of us.
Pray for each other.
Pray as you please.
Pray for salvation,
down on your knees.

Genius borders on the
edge of insanity.
I know this to be true,
for I have become
a great fool for you.

I start to stumble.
I start to fall,
down the stairs,
out in the hall.
Why can't I walk,
with an unsteady leg?
Must I fall down
and then have to beg?
My balance, was once my pride,
now it is almost all gone
away from my right side.
My mind is a mess,
of this I am sure,
for I now have duress;
of that I do know.
Good God please help me
for I've no place to go.

I went to a bar to get a drink,
for sometimes it helps me to think.
It was a dark, quiet, just before noon.
When I looked to my left there was a Baboon.
"Do I know you?", I said to he.
"I don't believe so, although I see
a resemblance of an old friend of mine,
who knew me when young and was kind
to me and family at that time of my life
and was the place I first met my wife."
That was the Baboon, relating to this old man,
of what his life was and how it began.
I was captured and removed from my family;
taken to a place where I could no longer be
with from my friends and others like me.
So I became lonely, very much like thee.
I thought a little as I remembered that refrain,
so I said, "My friend, are you pulling my chain?"

I begrudge you not
your round of golf, so
when I see you,
I want you to go
to a warm place
very deep, down below.

There is always an option,
I say to you.
No matter the candidate,
please vote Blue.
If you choose Red,
that's a color too,
But not the best for us.
Please vote Blue.

You're a flea on the back
of this World of ours.
You need to be scratched;
Sent on your way.
You may not with me agree,
but just now, please go away.

Think not
of what is to be,
for life is full
of uncertainty.

The ebb and flow
of living life,
from overpowering love
to increasing strife,
captures one's thoughts again,
filled with days of Sun
and nights of rain.
A battle will rage within
as we mortal people,
will decide to win,
the grandeur of this land,
will be captured once more
for the enduring glory of man.

The worst thing said,
The worst thing heard,
"Get off your high horse
And join the Herd."