Monday, June 24, 2013

Someone Needs to Throw a Punch

Modern ghost towns now are cities,
Thousands of houses falling down…
Once homes of the rising middle class
Now in abandoned factory towns.

The depression baffles congressmen
This growth of poverty, shore to shore…
Is simply the fact the union men
Have no income to share anymore.

They don’t pay for clarinet lessons,
Can’t afford a brand new car…
Even the farmers are not supported,
Food stamp allotments don’t go far.

The corporate government’s solution,
Is to freeze the minimum wage…
Tricking the young to be soldiers,
Securing the locks on the worker’s cage.

Friday, June 21, 2013


Often realities.
Become distant dreams…
A world of promise,
Is not what it seems.

A picture, a gesture,
Becomes a word…
A broken shell
Becomes a bird.

Saturday, June 15, 2013

The March

The march is steady and deliberate;
One foot up and one foot down,
Parading through every inch of earth,
Every forest, human life and town.

The march maintains a steady pace,
Taking with it, all yours and mine;
Never slowing or showing mercy,
This all powerful march of time.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

A Song

A song is a connection,
A bookmark in reality…
A pair of wings for the singer,
A flight from mortality.

A song expresses freedom,
A regret of things gone wrong…
A tale of life, lost love and death,
A life is but a song.

A song is an oral history,
A legend preserved in tune…
A melody always changing;
Elvis has left the room.

Friday, June 7, 2013


Today I flew to Tahiti,
After a brief stopover in Rome…
Reconnecting with so many old friends,
I knew from my childhood home.

We visited favorite restaurants;
Sampled every new brew on tap…
I woke up completely exhausted,
From another adventurous nap.

Saturday, June 1, 2013

Mr. Bumble

Bob wanted to wear a sweater to work,
He liked the striped ones best…
He chose the yellow and black one;
So much sportier than the rest.

He started his day in the daisies,
Then the mustard along the ledge…
Returning home in the afternoon,
Lade with pollen from the Privet hedge.

Sitting in the freshly waxed lounge,
His work mates were all a buzz…
Wiping their feet and dropping their loot,
‘Cause that’s what a Bumble Bee does.