Oh, Those Wild Things

I’m stepping out of the weeds
amongst those wild things –
I’m planting myself in firm soil
turning my head towards the sun
allowing rain to wash over my face
so I can grow as tall as the sky.

Oh, how I love those wild things
that travel on the wind
settle on the harshest grounds
and multiply like flies.

I’d love to be a wild thing
carefree on the wind
but wild things are blown away
they never put down roots
never grow as tall as trees
never reach the sky.

I’ve hid amongst those wild things
and still managed to grow
so it’s time to leave the field of weeds
time for seeds to sow
for if I can grow amongst the weeds
imagine how much further I can go.

I’m planting myself in firm soil
turning my head towards the sun
allowing rain to wash over my face
so I can grow as tall as the sky.

The God Story and The Man Story

Some find God
Lose god
A bargaining chip, some use god

Booze god
Confuse god
Ipod Blues fuse god

Blind grind
Mind bind
Find the last apple rind

If God finds you and you find yourself
Keep God and be yourself
But if god finds you and you lose yourself
Lose god and be yourself
If you lose god and find yourself
Keep yourself and be yourself

Some find god
Some gold
Whatever you find
Don’t be sold.

Crack and Prayer

Disclaimer: Some might find the following poem offensive. I apologize in advance.

Five little Jahovas sitting in a row
Handing out pamphlets to all the peeps on po--
The smoked, the baked, recovered earthquake
Fiddle faith shakers fallen in cake

Five little Jahovas think they know the lore
If you believe, heaven is in store
If you don't believe hell is at your door
Gales of hail, pails of gore

The Jahovas, the crackheads craving that fix
Tumbleweed addicts burning prayer sticks
Belief over reason built on yellow bricks

Fantasy lane, borders on insane
Glazed eyeballs, mushroom brains

Floating in the sky, believing in the guy
Crack and prayer is the poor man's high.

The House

Paint me a house
a pink, pink house
decked with seashells from the shore,
diamond algae stomping grounds
and I'll never ask for more.

Paint me a house
a yellow house
lined with grass and daffodils,
birds of color nesting grounds
resting on windowsills.

Paint me a house
a house of sound,
music fills the air like sand,
sparkles silver sunshine skies,
laughter plays pianos' grand.

Paint me a house
a happy house
where people come and never go
without taking dreams with them
smiles of sunshine's glow.

A house of color
A house of light
It's never too dark in the night,
A house of smiles
A house of sound
A house, a house where life abounds.

Summer Snowmen

Snow on banks of summer
covers daffodil’s with frost,
children gaze despondently
behind a window pane—
kept indoors
because mother fears change.

Butterflies dip above the white expanse
as children from another time
ride down on sleds

mother gazes from her bedroom window
clutching a cup of tea to her chest.
She can’t make sense of
the mixed up seasons,
she closes the shutters and
goes to bed—

the children at the window
gaze mournfully at the children outside
throwing snowballs in bathing suits.

The children at the window
can take it no longer,
they huddle together with mischievous eyes
they whisper together
then come apart
as quietly they tiptoe outside.

Mother awakes,
the house is too quiet

she trundles down the narrow stairs,

her mouth drops open
as she gazes at the carpet,
her little men have turned to snow.

Outside the children play,
they dance and sing
in the summer breeze
carefree as children should be.

Mother’s inside hugging snowmen.