The Lender
Present and lurking
from conception until now,
dark greedy fingers
pluck away at youth's brow.
Exalting one moment
to exhaust the next.
A generous first impression,
leaves us later perplexed.
Once empty vessels
of innocence and hope.
Are now tattered pawns,
wrapped in time's burning rope.
Never forgetting
who holds life's deed,
extracting old chaff
while planting new seed.
An uncompromising lender,
times generosity lacks.
Whatever time gives,
it always takes back
Confessions of a Mortal
The birth of mortality is a bitter curse,
It means that I'm human,
no better, no worse.
I see many things that I don't understand.
This world is a desert
and I am its sand.
I make mistakes and say things I don't mean.
It's hard to be humble,
I'm an envy machine.
The love that I show is not perfect by far.
I revel in myself,
while others, I bar.
I pretend to care when sometimes I don't.
I say that I will,
when I know that I won't.
I judge others actions and ignore those of my own.
I must seek attention,
I hate feeling alone.
At times I fear and worry too much.
I can't change the world,
only add my small touch.
I'm guilty of sin and everything perverse.
Forgive me, I'm human,
no better, no worse.
Sorrow
You can attack yourself,
distract yourself,
pretend it's not real.
You can lie to yourself,
cry to yourself,
but you can't make it heal.
You can turn it to black,
paint over the hole,
cover it up,
but still it will grow.
You can't forget about it,
it's always there,
soaking your pillow at night,
lost in your stare.
You can choose to remember,
or try to forget,
which ever you do,
you must admit.
Nothings forever
and this you will know,
a few moments of joy,
and a lifetime of sorrow
Regret
Regret is a shadow that follows me,
a haunting remnant without reprieve.
It hides in darkness to elude my eyes,
it's always there, I need not surmise.
My blunders of youth can't be undone,
remorse is vain once damage is done.
If I could turn back every angry display,
I'd tell you I love you, that's all I would say.
Adolescence
Born into a world of danger,
a face in a never ending crowd of strangers.
Given a name and told to keep it from shame,
pressure turns our fears to anger.
On the dark side of misery,
we hide our rage and disguise hostility.
We grieve as we go, wanting no one to know,
for fear of hate and humility.
2000 Man
I exist in a concrete world,
sliding plastic through machines.
I was conceived during revolution,
but raised by technology.
Known as generation X,
I'm devoid of any creed.
I inherit the sins of my forefathers,
destruction, pollution and greed.
I evolved with man's lust for space
and His new frontier, Mars.
I emerged from the shadows of Vietnam.
I saw Apollo reach the stars.
I now venture toward cyber space
where nothing is what it seems.
A virtual world of boys and girls
in a tangled web of dreams.
I race toward oblivion,
with the future in my hands.
I am evolution,
my name, 2000 Man.
Journey to Oblivion (the tramp)
Walking through the night
with the moon at his back,
across a field of darkness
past an old shanty shack.
Smoke hangs on the horizon
toward the southern railroad tracks,
as a steam engine bellows,
coughing life into the blackness
His footsteps have no purpose,
they just lead him toward the tracks.
He walks with his possessions
tucked away in a burlap sack.
His pockets are empty, and full of holes.
His face is sooty, and so are his clothes.
He has an old flannel shirt substituted for a coat.
His eyes are bloodshot from exposure to the cold.
He can't remember the last time he ate,
his body grows weaker with each step he takes.
The earth begins to rumble under his feet,
for thundering down the tracks,
it's the iron horse he meets.
He's never sure where he'll be the next day
nothings for certain, not even his name.
Once in the boxcar he takes a deep breath,
then falls to the floor as though he were dead.
He dreams of places he hasn't yet seen,
and knows that one day, it will be more than a dream.
Heed the Darkness
Awake ye larks
don't thou hinder nor brood
for the last hours of darkness
voraciously loom.
Make way for the morn
with sharp eyes in the night,
give heed to the darkness
while thine beckons the light.
Surrender to the stars
pay thy bidding to lunar
arise one and all
for dawn will arrive no sooner.
Revolving Playgrounds
Youth frolics
on revolving playgrounds.
Like a seat on a carousel
we each get a turn.
Around and around
until the music falls silent.
We dismount our innocence
as youth climbs aboard.
Dance to the North wind
Gliding like a feather
on a gentle breeze,
she moves in figures of eight
with symmetry.
Floating like an angel
without wings,
she cuts across the ice,
to dance with the wind
Destiny is a ticket
she holds in her pocket.
A seat by a window
awaits her departure.
She frolics amidst the frozen air,
for the morning's light,
brings a tearful farewell.
Drifting like poetry
on polished glass.
She dances to the north wind,
and never turns back.
Trouble at the Market
Great wall of security
shelter me no more.
Let me brave the
raging winds that pound
outside my door.
I am but a hapless spec
a grain of stale humanity.
Evoke my senses,
omit my pride, and save
me from insanity.
Allow me to walk among
beggars and saints.
Unbind my tortured serenity.
I am but a poor recluse,
with no resolve for humanity.
What Dreamers Do
I've been chasing rainbows,
since I've been old enough to dream,
Wishing on stars, to get what
I've wanted; but nothing comes
that easily.
Along the way, I've seen
joy and sorrow with each new tomorrow,
always a day away from me.
And the world that seemed new
when I was younger, has grown so old
in this time I've borrowed.
I can't bear these changes,
as the world gets older; I get older
too. And the ones that I've loved
have slowly vanished. And one day,
I will vanish too.
So when you look for me,
please look for my reflection. And you'll see me,
always chasing rainbows,
and wishing on stars, because that's
what dreamers do!
It Came from the Eighties
It began with Reaganomics taking the stage,
though most of us questioned his lofty age.
shut up, he yelled to a heckler below.
that's when Iran let our people go.
The walrus fell on a cold December night,
as the catcher in the rye worked his bloody plight.
It marked the loss of a great generation,
but left us free to use our imaginations.
We learned that boys don't cry,
and that girls, they just "wanna" have fun.
We ate fast food every night
and drowned in Capri sun.
Michael Jackson gave us a thrill,
while the Beastie boys had a license to ill.
U2 gave us great pride,
as televanglelist took us all for a ride.
After school we'd try to punch out Mike Tyson,
along with burgertime, donkey kong and pole position.
We watched E.T. trying to phone home,
and cringed at the thought, he knows your alone.
The brat pack, burst onto the scene
with the breakfast club and Samantha's sweet sixteen.
Live aid, Farm aid and conspiracy of hope,
brought unity to a world, absent of hope.
We would sit for hours, watching MTV,
while music videos were making history.
On Friday nights, we voted on the video wars,
as cable television's night flight soared.
We would go to school without getting shot,
turn up music, break dance in parking lots.
Carry our boom boxes when and where ever,
if you ask me, I'll tell you, pac man forever!
Ode to a Dreamer
Oh mighty dreamer,
you now slumber like a corpse.
Do you not fear poverty?
Why has thine light
grown so dim?
Humanity once waked
in your presence.
Gods swooned
as your dreams would ascend.
Have you lost heart?
Have you grown cold
of the bitter world?
I remember your fury of youth,
your rage against complacency.
I tell you, life has no
dominion over dreams.
Life is but a mark
on the slate of eternity.
Dreams shall not be smitten.
They will persist
from one life unto the next,
until they live.
For no mere mortal can kill a dream,
only delay its arrival.
No earthly measure
can forsake a dream.
So rise up mighty dreamer,
life has no dominion over dreams.
The Stone Garden
A cold silence breaks
as dawn approaches.
The garden gate squeaks open.
Gravel crunches underfoot.
Overgrown ferns sway in the breeze,
their roots unmoved.
I perceive a thousand eyes
amidst aisles of carved stone.
Crosses arise in shades of black,
white, and worn gray.
Hidden statues are uncovered
as weeds are brushed aside.
An angel smiles at me,
its hand beckoning to join this peace.
No longer shall I fear my demise.
Perhaps one day, I shall add to this peace.
I walk again through arches of the lost,
and close the gate to the garden of stone.
Threshold of Time
A new day is dawning
the light of two thousand years
is now at hand.
The bearers of humanity
remain slumped on the
threshold of time.
Reluctant to move,
afraid to cross over the line.
Burdens weigh heavy laden steps
on the minds of mankind.
The fear is not of progression,
but what we leave behind.
Beginnings
My first memories
are ones of light.
Dancing playfully
through the darkness,
leaping into my imagination.
Projecting images,
both real and uncertain.
Flickering between
the land of shadows
and the conscious world.
This was the dawning of awareness.
I remember the brightness,
the freshness of the world.
My feelings for exploration
and adventure.
Fears I had for the dark
and the silence it would bring.
Curiosity for every sight and sound.
Each day a quest,
each object a new frontier.
The Fisherman
His eyes melt into their sockets,
half closed by the sun.
His glance is sharp,
like mighty daggers cutting
into my youthful frame.
Calm, calculating, his words are few.
His eyes direct me to his intentions.
An old man, his thin hair
shines like silver thread.
Wrinkled by the sun,
the lines on his face are many,
each one a badge of wisdom.
We walk toward the sea,
fishing poles in hand.
He offers a smile,
which I gladly return.
His swagger represents no fear,
for he's been here before.
Most of his days were spent
with the sea, testing his wit against it,
and the creatures who dwell there.
How noble he seems, this simple man,
who satisfies so easily.
As we approach the shore
he sets down his gear,
and offers these words to me;
"Don't ever feel guilty
for baiting your catch,
It's a hard world for little things.
This you will learn,
if you wish to survive
big things too must eat."
