Posts Tagged ‘#poetry’

Yesterday I overheard a conversation
Between your god and mine.
He said, “I’m not sure where you are going with this,
But I like your design”.

She must have thought that was pretty funny
Cause this was her reply:
“Can’t imagine letting them last forever
So they all had to die”.

“Is that why you closed the gates to Paradise,
To test their devotion”?
“Not at all. Just replaced Salvation with
Worthless Magic Potions”.

Magic Potions became the prize
Magic Potions kept by the wise
Magic Potions from broken math
Magic Potions choosing the path

This went on and on for a very long time.
Quizzing one another.
I just couldn’t help thinking, “what do you expect…..
From sister and brother”?

Magic Potions became the prize
Magic Potions Kept by the wise
Magic Potions from broken math
Magic Potions choosing the path

Yesterday I overheard a conversation
Between your god and mine.
SHe said, “I’m not sure where you are going with this
But it’s better than mine”.

It’s in the music we listen to as we block out the world.
Way beyond the images that flash upon our screens.
Somewhere much further than that is the angst we have created.
Comic book creatures come alive in colorful magazines.

Sure the fables and fairy tales end with stunning song and dance.
Your story will never get off the ground, it seems.
We all keep looking for something that is truly different.
Something you can easily fit inside your pre-paid dreams.

There is no denying what has been
Or we end up living it all over again.
No time to undo how we evolve
So we sit and listen With Quiet Resolve.

Amazed by how many beautiful things have never been heard.
You listen and listen to what has always been there.
There’s so much more to enjoy than a simple one two three four.
Overlooked by many still searching that won’t make the time to care.

There is no denying what has been
Or we end up living it all over again.
No time to undo how we evolve
So we sit and listen With Quiet Resolve.

Magical and mathematical as technical as they come.
What goes into the mix can’t possibly come back out.
Is there really a difference between sunrise and sunset?
When every whisper you’ve made becomes a deafening shout.

No time to undo how we evolve
So sit back and listen With Quiet Resolve.

Wasting time, doing nothing, hoping something changes.
Posting videos, staring out windows, countless rearranges.
Repeating, then repeating, boring unending motions.
Live shielded, and well protected, invent your own emotions.

I have all the toys but nobody wants to play.
My imagination runs wild but rules get in the way.
Could be on top of the hill instead I’m racing up.
Always so thirsty though I carry a Bottomless Cup.

One on one, a little fun, when things get out of hand.
Say you’re sorry, what more could they want, I just don’t understand.
Grab the gold, forget the rest, riches here to fill your greed.
Heart and soul, often neglected, like so many left in need.

I have all the toys but nobody wants to play.
My imagination runs wild but rules get in the way.
Could be on top of the hill instead I’m racing up.
Always so thirsty though I carry a Bottomless Cup.

Leisure life, think of the past, the world takes care of you.
The unfortunate, crying life’s unfair, know what they need to do.
The worthless, sure are worth less, and simply not worth my time.
The foolish, and uneducated, are a dozen for a dime.

I can remember sitting on the porch
At the end of a very difficult day.
Problem after problem pounding my head
Sometimes I couldn’t even hear my music play.

Thinking if I could sit down for a minute
But it takes more than a moment to catch my breath.
No one can put more pressure on me than me
Not even a matter of life or death.

Today, I can listen to the Calm Wind Chimes
When the panic level drops it reveals a better way
Eyes closed listening to the Calm Wind Chimes
Singing the end to another wonderful day.

When forced to focus on the real things around us
It feels like so much is thrown in our way
Meadows turn to valleys and hillsides become mountains
Digging yourself deeper and deeper into dismay.

Today, I can listen to the Calm Wind Chimes
When the panic level drops it reveals a better way
Eyes closed listening to the Calm Wind Chimes
Singing the end to another wonderful day.

Storms have blown through and ripped things apart
Until you’d pray for the return of stifling heat.
It will rain for so long the very ground rushes away
As easily turn to snow and completely bury the street.

There are team mates that always have to win.
They cheat and break the rules and do it all over again.
Repeat to themselves over and over before they begin
Losing the game by playing fair is the biggest sin.

There’s nothing wrong with better equipment.
Give it all you got every time you hit the pavement.
If it ever took more than one-hundred and ten percent
When the coach says, ‘take him down’, you know what he meant.

Training buys a millisecond or two.
To cross the finish line first you have to know what to do.
Survivors don’t sit at home wishing and hoping it was true.
If you’re back’s against the wall, they’ll tell you what to do.

When you can’t beat ‘em fairly
Change the Game.
Find yourself slow and outmatched
Change the Game.
Placed a bet turned too far south
Change the Game.
The line of credit has just run out
Change the Game.

Change the Game when your opponent is prepared.
Change the Game or break it so it can’t be repaired.
Change the Game and just act like you never cared.
Change the Game don’t let them know you’re impaired.

Former partners must have played a similar game.
Taking credit for things that were in your name.
Pointing at others as if they were the ones to blame
Scavengers and vultures that won’t survive the same.

Whenever I hear noises or banging
I turn them into a pattern repeating.
Tempos within syncopated phrases
One rhythm falls another raises.

And the timing of all these pieces fit
Each noise becoming an instrument.
The rhythm drives and then grooves
Cycle completed everything moves.

Soon random notes become a melody
And I just can’t resist adding harmony.
The right chords wrap them all together
Within a beat that goes on forever.

Each song I write is for me, you see.
And I’d rather share my songs for free.
Than to follow orders, rules and liars
So I am The Artist and the Buyer.

My fingers begin to tap with my toes
Memories take me wherever it goes.
Past experience and buried emotion
Lyrics melody then explosion.

Another new song is almost complete
A smile on my face I kick up my feet.
Post where no one hears them at all
As I start to feel new noises call.

Each song I write is for me, you see.
And I’d rather share my songs for free
Than to follow orders, rules and liars
So I am The Artist and the Buyer.

Your words do not rhyme
But they Ring of Truth.
You ask me to believe
Though there is no proof.

Every step taken
Together or apart.
Efforts only bring us
Back to where we start.

File after file
Folder within folder.
Get as close as you can
As the fire grows colder.

Generations will search to be free
Blindly following leaders that cannot see.
Always complaining only they have it rough.
The truth is their best was not good enough.

Your words do not rhyme
But they Ring of Truth.
You ask me to believe
Though there is no proof.

Life spent in fortune
Fortune spent in waste.
Lose yourself in trust
Confidence misplaced.

Look in both directions
Turn things upside down.
Depend on faith and love
But neither can be found

This a song about Peanut Butter Hill
So in a way it might be about you.
It’s about neighborhood kids that go out to play
But the special ones that wait for a rainy day.

Others would play in the sun and grass
Or throw stuff at the fish in the pond.
We would wait for the clouds to get grey
Promising that rain is on its way.

Soon the dry creek would rise above our shoes
We all cheered loudly to spread the good news.
Our favorite hill melted into a wall of brown
Too slippery to easily climb up or down.

You keep your hands in your pockets
To get to the top of Peanut Butter Hill.
Most of us slid half way back each time
And laughed so hard on Peanut Butter Hill.

This a song about Peanut Butter Hill
So in a way it might be about you.
Enormous leaning trees embraced imagination
A play house or needed fortress for generations.

Today the trees have all but fallen down
The hillsides have eroded and barely left a clue.
Of the adventures we all remember still
And the fun we had on Peanut Butter Hill.

You keep your hands in your pockets
To get to the top of Peanut Butter Hill.
Most of us slid half way back each time
And laughed so hard on Peanut Butter Hill.

Everything I do is wonderful.
Everything I do is fine.
I have learned a lot about myself
Yet so much is undefined.

Is it better to think you should rule it all
Because you are the One Devine?
Are there others that feel the same,
Do they live in A Special Time?

We all live in A Special Time
Where we can follow our own rhyme.
We all live in A Special Time
Make it count, make it shine.

We all hope it goes our way
Be the hero, save the day.
In conversations; every day.
See the same things; the same way.

I have been lost, forgotten, buried.
Memories dark and rotten.
My ears were closed mid-sentence
So I learned to hear without them.

Hearing without them
The bubble expands.
Sunrise to sunset;
The failure of plans

Can you appreciate?
Where so many have knelt?
Never-healing wounds
The enemy has felt?

Paradise is never built
Upon bones we have crushed.
The weak we have preyed upon
The ending we have rushed.

We all live in A Special Time
Where we can follow our own rhyme.
We all live in A Special Time
Make it count, make it shine.

We all hope it goes our way
Be the hero, save the day.
In conversations; every day.
Seeing the same things in the same way.

I went searching for years to learn the important things in life.
Some spent in luxury, too many were spent in strife.
Truly believing if I could just find the right questions
Throughout all of humanity, someone would surely know.

What happens after death, are we all alone?
The answers were never written in stone.
What is the real difference between love and faith?
Is it too late with three out at the bottom of the eighth?

The Answer Might Be 42
But it never was about that.
Finding neither question or answer
Nor even a wise old sage or wizard.

To learn how to listen I sought out musicians
To know what is real I studied magicians.
Accountants I’ve met could never measure true cost.
Preparing for challenge I drank with those who have lost.

To see both sides I closely examined the moon.
You can see the ground better from a hot air balloon.
Can’t understand demons if you always talk to saints.
What is freedom if you’ve never known restraints?

The Answer Might Be 42
But it was never about that.
The secret of life is not found in questions
Better served by learning whom to ask.