There is color in the flowers.

And moisture in the rain.

The rocks are hard and heavy.

And the soil holds all pain.

I’ve been dancing in the meadows.

I don’t dare to stay too long.

And only under darkened skies.

Where the thunder plays my song.

No more confab with the foolish.

Or the prideful, boastful voice.

I take it to the world at large.

And pretend I have a choice.

Sometimes, I miss delusions.

In the busy city streets.

And the chaos and confusions.

But not the phones and texts and tweets.

Flying low under the radar.

Anonymity still a thing.

Your obsessions here are going far.

No comfort do they bring.

You were singing in the spotlight.

To applause and some disdain.

When I was writing in the darkness.

In contemplation of your pain.

I remember how you suffered.

All the horror, that big brain.

Waves that crashed are now outnumbered.

The counting stops or goes insane.

I’m not saying I have the answers.

To finally bring you peace of mind.

Just float back down to earth, old friend.

You’ve done well, leave that behind.

The opportunity to know certain people who are a pleasure to be with doesn’t happen often, and when it happens, it is beyond the beyonds. However, it does happen, and when it does…

We must learn to say goodbye.

Perhaps without all those tears and blubbering!

Just concentrate on what a pleasure it was and is to be in the presence of THIS!

She has never seen snow before…

Says, “It’s nice!” She smiles.

Aa lovely as anyone I’ve met.

“It’s so clean!”

I let her have her moment and smile.

My truth is dirty and cold.

The Expectations were on fire.

Virtues had grown thin.

Love was hanging… worn wire.

Either side has needs to win.

The penalties were not known.

The lines drawn in the sand.

Emotions were hot and blown.

And nothing much seemed planned.

You took the gold and money.

I have this heart and soul.

I’m not laughing, but you are funny.

I have the kid: that’s how we roll.

I say, “I don’t care bout the little things.” But mostly, it’s what I do.

I try hard not to say too much. Because really, not much of it is true.

Damaged from pain, hard living.  So much is rotten to the core.

If I cared about the little things. Then you’d be knocking at my door.

There’s no hope, no silver linings. There’s no possibility for truths.

I was taught by all those scallywags. Changing costumes in phonebooths.

There are lessons in the darkness. There are rules no one adheres.

We don’t care about the little things. We smile brightly, don’t talk of fears.

Being alone

Is like nothing else

Incompatible…

You discover things there.

That you couldn’t possibly know in any other universe.

Posers lack that desire.

I thought I would make a difference.

Ah! The follies of youth and ideology.

Now I see my irrelevance.

Powerless perpetuity.

I don’t fight this urge to matter anymore.

I have a new urge.

To experience life with total awareness and zero need to influence anyone.

I will just watch and write.

It has come to this.

I fell out of love by mid-day.

The snow was white and fast.

There was crunching in the footsteps.

All the praise for cold had passed.

I was huddled with my cafe cream.

I was braced at distant storm.

Then I remembered that you weren’t here.

Once again, my heart did warm.

I left the road for; I don’t know…

I just can’t remember what.

There was something about a bungalow.

Where all doors were sealed shut.

Saw some things you can’t unsee.

Still, others’ beauty froze.

The businessmen were gripped by need.

Put the profits up their nose.

Down trodden are filled with sorrow.

Don’t know which wolf to feed.

To survive? Beg, steal, or borrow.

Some say love is all you need.