The money came in bunches…

The pain a steady flow.

I asked when it was ending.

Said, “It’s best that you don’t know.”

Ideas were just hunches.

Just streams of come and go.

I see the words and hum a tune.

Sometimes win, or place, or show.

The Play was light and shadows.

Made me think of death and life.

I was single in realities.

In my head she was my wife.

There’s a beauty in the seeing.

There’s a wisdom in this pain.

That I can know and leave behind.

And not look back again.

There’s a time to be self centered.

Happens when you’re a child.

There’s a time for your rebellion.

All is new and you are wild.

There’s a time to be a hero.

There’s a time to be a Dad.

And these times to be your father.

Are the best I’ve ever had.

My Mother and her generation said it best.

“If you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.”

My generation say or maybe it’s just me…

If you don’t have anything nice to say then shut the fuck up!”

Bill reminded me again today about the damage of disparaging comments…

There was sunlight in the raindrops.

No silence on the bus.

The crew they were complaining.

Thank God it wasn’t us.

The Chardonnay wasn’t chilled enough.

The trolly was a running late.

Others were lacking something.

Which was only tempting fate.

We were spared a final torment.

Because their destination came.

I was left feeling so much better.

And my silence held no shame.

I am working in the nighttime.

Top rewards the price of wealth.

I am tired and exhausted.

And I fear for fading health.

There’s a balance and a scorecard.

There’s a meter on the dash.

One is keeping tabs on speed.

And the others counting cash.

October rains have filled the skies…

The leaves have come unglued.

A joke was told, I didn’t laugh.

So now I’ve been called rude.

The sensitive are all a flutter.

Judging in that special way.

Fearing winter will be a cold one.

With only the fiddler left to pay.

We were slow to change and learning.

But we learned to bite our lips

At the stakes were screams and yearning.

At the shores were slavery ships.

The Captain lost the first mate.

To the heist of some disease.

The King was high and tempting fate.

At the harem of, ‘Do as you please.’

This was long before the activists.

Long before we lost the boat.

Then the men became all feminists.

Then we lost the right to vote.

She said I had good meter, I nodded and said thanks.

Hadn’t a clue what she meant, my mind was drawing blanks.

So I looked it up on Google, was more or less my thought.

I sometimes sit at paper, just to see what will be got.

I’ve always had good meter. Just a thing I feel or see.

Mysteries and shades of grays like colors, there they be.