A Dark Shade of Gray

A Dark Shade of Gray                                     February 20, 2006

He locked me up, threw away the key,

That guard, all too willing to spite me.

I worked, did the best I could,

But he chopped down my foundation of wood.

I oft wonder if there is any life left to me,

For I feel as if I'm dying, The Lord's Will it be.

I stare at the lines barracading me in.

The Joker's ubiquitous, always has that stupid grin.

Apparently, though, his is not all that laughs,

But all else, too, including lions, tigers, bears and giraffes.

What did I do?  What did I say?

It doesn't matter, for here, I'll grow old and gray.

I pray often, usually with the pen,

In the best way I know how to,

To help me cope with my original sin.

Apparently, my prayer for salvation isn't enough

That it'll guarantee me forgiveness on Earth from that stuff.

Thus, I shall resign myself to many a frostbitten day

And just accept that my life

Is an extreme dark shade of gray.

The Blue Thing that Spins

This Blue Thing that Spins                                   February 21, 2006

I've been sitting around too long,

Too damn long to do so and stay alive,

And thus, I just need to get out and about,

And I need to do so to survive.

I've been hibernating for four damn years,

Sleeping away days and running during the nights,

And thus, I just need to get out and about,

Just anything so I can thrive.

My heart's been broken, and I hid it once,

And Fate tried to kill me dead twice,

But somehow, something didn't let me go Home,

Or at least not now because He wasn't ready.

My home's a nice place, but I need to jettison,

I need to hit the road, burn rubber, sunglasses on.

I think I need to be a jetsetter. 

I think that's what I need to be.

I don't necessarily have to go ski,

Or go climb ol' Mount Everest.

I don't need to snorkle the Great Barrier Reef

Or take a tour of the Titanic.

I don't need to go to extremes

To enjoy this wonderful world.

All I need, my friend, is to drive by

And see this blue thing that spins.

Demons have haunted me for a long, long time,

And I've tried to flee for so long, I may just cry.

I've had no money because they've pinned me down.

I've had no sensibility because they didn't give a damn,

But now, look who's wearing the boxing gloves,

Captain Braggadocio, you ol' bastard, you!

I'm back, and I'm gonna sock you right in the nose,

And I hope the sensation runs from there to your toes.

You'll go down, you ol' bastard, or I'll die trying

Because I'm gonna enjoy this blue thing that spins.

Looking Out My Window

Looking Out My Window                             February 24, 2006

I'm sitting here, looking out my window

At all the little things that go.

Whatever happens will commence indeed,

And I just have no control.

Destiny has a funny system by which it works,

To that, no one can deny.

I seek out to find my destiny today

In the blustery winds that blow.

I'm just sitting here, looking out my window,

Out at the bay and to the sea.

Boats sail onto the stars blending into the ocean,

And the royal blue eventually fades to black.

All this has a meaning, that I know,

But I'm still trying to figure it out.

Perhaps nothing is as it seems, and if that be true,

I'm as lost as an extinct dodo can be.

I'm just sitting here, looking out my window,

At two lovers making out on the docks.

It isn't as it appears, for it doesn't represent me.

It represents love to an infinite degree,

And what if I say to you I long for one

Just like it, or something which truly can be said?

I guess at the end of the day,

I'll be just sitting here, looking out my window.

Forbidden Fruit (My Original Sin)

Forbidden Fruit (My Original Sin)                            February 24, 2006

I thought I had given up

Those evil monstrosities,

Until I saw what I did,

The sheer evil within me.

I thought by putting my faith in God,

He'd take me under His wings,

But now, I just find myself

Treading my original sin,

Something I thought had vanished

Many  years ago...

But indeed, it be not so.

I feel so sad that my resolve

Is so feeble, weak, and yet sublime.

It feels so good, and at the same time, bad,

And my heart shall ache ever more.

A traitor to my iron clad will I am, indeed,

Yet it's so much more than that.

To tell you would expose you to forbidden fruit,

But to withhold just buries the truth.

It's a many millenia old thing, it is,

What we know as the desires of the flesh.

As evil as it may be,

It writes down the tune I sing,

And that piece is being written now

Even as I write this to you.

What I do isn't exactly alcohol or drugs,

But most certainly qualifies as sin.

It's what, indeed, transformed

My white sheets black,

And what took the fruit

Down from my tree.

There, my Lord.  I've confessed my deed.

Won't you please forgive me in Your Heart?

If Love Were

If Love Were                                         February 27, 2006

If love were a woman,

Would it really be true?

The sun shines so very bright,

And yet, the truth looks blue.

She might have breasts and buns of steel.

She might can give off looks that could kill,

But if I love were a woman,

Would she be real?

If love were a man,

How soon would it be to tell?

Would a gal have to use a fan?

Would he have to be hot as hell?

He might have pecs and abs

Sweeter than any dream,

And one look at you straight in the eye

Might make you forget

He's captain of the football team,

But if he were a man, I ask,

Would he be real?

Love is the thing we question the most.

I know not all the answers,

And thus will tell no lies.

But when I die, I'd think my spirit

Would mingle with my lover's ghost

After a lifetime that was filled

With scores of laughs and cries,

And sweet, loving servitude.

I often looked into my soul

As did she, nerves twitching head to toe,

And we dared asked,

"Is love a woman?  Could it be a man?"

I'm Just a Sensitive Guy

I'm Just a Sensitive Guy                            February 27, 2006

I've seen the wonders of the world

In my many a sojourn.

I've seen the wonder that is love,

And I've stared death square in the eyes.

What do I know about all of this,

And what do I even care?

All anyone needs to understand

Is I'm just a sensitive guy.

Yes, I'm a sensitive guy,

And I cry, the Red River floods.

I see the significance of life's aesthetics,

The beauty of love's first kiss,

The horror of gazing

Down the barrel of a hostle gun.

There's Yin, then Yang, a true 180,

The ol' "good with the bad theme."

True love isn't hard to find,

And is just a skipping stone away

From the hate that plagues us.

Oh, I'm just a sensitive guy.

I just met this beauty here in town.

She's just wearing this hot white gown.

I fell for her so hard and so suddenly,

It was difficult to turn her down.

Of course, I didn't know or have a clue

She already had a beau,

But I do now, and I paid the price,

And I'm so sad

Because I'm just a sensitive guy.

There was once this time

That I met the Grim Reaper

Who existed in the form of a .9 millimeter.

A greedy man introduced him to me,

Waving him like an unheralded flag.

I never worried much about myself, you know,

Just that my family

Might never see me again,

And why did I think this way, you ask?

All because I'm just a sensitive guy.

My Wanderlust

My Wanderlust                                     February 27, 2006

I'm suiting up, ready to haul ass.

I haven't been anywhere

In so many damn years,

And it's driving me insane.

Like lover's quarrels,

The blood is just a-pumping,

And the thought of hitting the road

Just makes me shiver

From head to toes.

They say nothing's better than sex,

But indeed, I'll have to chime in:

That rush I feel from my base to my head

Is my wanderlust.

I have an insatiable thirst for knowledge

And an eye toward human truth.

I want to see the humanities,

And you should, too,

Stretching from the Rocky Mountain high

To the wheat of the Great Plains,

From sea to splendid shining sea,

And though the road will stop somewhere,

My journey mustn't ever end there,

For if it does, I'll be so sad,

Sad enough to sing the Delta Blues,

And so I'll hop a plane or board a ship,

Or however that line goes,

And allow my wanderlust

To carry me everywhere

Between the Poles.