The night strikes minor chords

The night strikes minor chords

The moon is without shield

Questions without answers

Coming out of left field

Today fails to encore

Tomorrow two steps back

The past is prevalent

And tarnishes to black

Brave to have come this far

Brave to have come this far

Matches go up in flame

Here lies my fire rising

My choices not the same

Afloat in the sorrow

Rescues I can’t perform

Ultimately standing

On shore after the storm

This is a happiness

This is a happiness

A robber cannot steal

No amount of guile can

Invalidate its feel

It has an earth below

Above it has the air

It has a truth throughout 

Impossible to pare

The space between the thought

The space between the thought

Grows shorter every time 

Like a skipping stone and

Not the next number prime

A memory making

A travel in one spot

A second of sunlight

A fleeting camelot 

Having found sturdiness

Having found sturdiness 

And a soft melody

A resident of grace

Threshold tenacity

Landing but still dreaming

Ideals worthy of fight

Pyramids and keystones

Wishes perching for flight 

Never the surrender

Never the surrender

Repetitive their win

Their last actions frozen

Like original sin

No new thoughts or angles

Unable to conceive

They may be wrong so they

Internally deceive

Exhausted empathy

Exhausted empathy

Willow in a rainstorm

Reality swirling

A tornado gains form

No break found in nature

The Overwhelm uproots

Until a helplessness 

Occurs without recruits

Words without envelopes

Words without envelopes

Love given without praise

Plentiful like petals

White as a summer dais’

Sentences in ribbons

Untied and memorized

Then wrapped on a finger

And daily emphasized 

Afloat but still drowning

Afloat but still drowning

Having lost an ocean

In spiritual storms

Of endless emotion

With mistakes by design

A zen without zenith

To mold an ocean with

The feel of behemoth 

A lullaby to dirge

A lullaby to dirge

With no change in tempo

Like a waltz or polka

Or a frantic bongo

To live on a line with

No questions or quibble

Is to miss out on jazz 

And beauty of scribble

Out from the blooming daze

Out from the blooming daze

Traveling to find Hope

To have in my pocket

On discovery slope

In a community

A vast collective heart

I found a jigsaw piece 

Of a greater compart

No emphasis on stone

No emphasis on stone

Weaving around the tar

Skipping through blowing leaves

Without danger of far

In a world of worlds

Without friends and smiling

Happiness is hardcore

Munitions stockpiling

Beauty under dark clouds

Beauty under dark clouds

A thumb imprinting hard

Wild flowers are thriving

Taking over the yard

And yet unbeknownst to

This colorful display 

This vibrant colossal 

Electric storms just may

Fragments of forever

Fragments of forever

Constellation stars few

The moon pulling waters

Clouds leaving morning dew

We sit on the sidelines

Sparrows find poppyseeds

We try a shortcut through

The green grass and the weeds

Rush hour cars lining up

Rush hour cars lining up

The urgency for home

The red lights halting flight

A pacing metronome

Transition has begun

Ill fitting working cap

Project plans paling in

Each widening time gap

Now awake and alert

Now awake and alert

Can red and blue wave white

Or stars will be falling

Their points ready to fight

Millionaires were boasting 

They flourished with the poor

That was the gilded age

And now they’re back for more

Clouds have stopped moving

Clouds have stopped moving

Rain reluctant to fall

The homeless find shelter

In porticos and stall

From my aerie above

I see a jet breaking

Through clouds like a thought or

A dream in the making

Crows will warn other crows

Crows will warn other crows

Can you hear me cawing

And all of us donkeys 

Start loudly hee-hawing

We are the new Reveres

But it’s not the British

Who are coming to fight

We must not be skittish 

Morning dumpster thunder

Morning dumpster thunder

No rain pools for the birds

Fourth of July weekend

America backwards

In a religious world

Are these the words of Christ

Name calling, insulting

Jesus would have been ICE’d

Afraid of Jane Fonda

Afraid of Jane Fonda

Still committed to dance

I have to keep moving 

It is over at stance

There are no final words

So much to comprehend 

Compassion completely 

Some one way streets dead-end

The days of Bittersweet

The days of Bittersweet

My tree trunk and your vine

The false companionship 

Pearl strands were twisted twine

Encroaching on my limbs

Like bonsai wires that shape

To suck Life from me like

A raisin from a grape