On A Shelf

If I could keep you
On a shelf
Safe from harm
And for my self

I would never
Ever have to fear
A thought of harm
To you my dear

You would be safe
And well protected
With other things
That I collected

But life I fear
Does not work that way
And on the shelf
You would not stay

You want to be
On the ground
Away from me
Not safe and sound

No shelf for you
Just hope and trust
As I watch you do
The things you must

The Music Of Madness

The soundtrack of you losing your mind
Is filled with the trumpets of regret
And the strings of despair
While that constant drumbeat you hear
Is your sanity slowly drifting away
Towards that song where high notes
And the darkest corners of your mind dance
Where light and sound are afraid to see and hear
What will become of what is left of you
When the music finally stops

brainwashed

happiness
is not
what someone
else
has
or says
or does

the only
person
who can
define
what
makes
you happy

is too busy
being
brainwashed
into
chasing things

that
only matter
to people
who do not

things
do not
last
and can
be
replaced

your
thoughts
and feelings
cannot
so
make sure
they are
always yours

do not
pursue
things
you do not want
only
to bring
happiness
to others

pursue
things
that will
bring
happiness
to yourself

and
do not
let
others
brainwash
you

with
goals and
ambitions
that are
not your
own

Such A Pretty Girl

This poem is dedicated to the memory of my wife

Joan Elizabeth Mitchell-Nelson

on what would have been her 53rd birthday.

Joan was such a pretty girl
Everyone would always say
Joan was such a pretty girl
In each and every way

Joan had such a pretty smile
On such a pretty face
Joan had such a pretty style
All frilly filled with lace

Joan had such a giving heart
Filled with so much love
Joan always gave from the start
What a gift from God above

Too bad that such a pretty girl
Too soon had to go away
Too pretty for this ugly world
Too pretty for this day

Set Me Free

My heart and soul will always belong to you
From the moment I first saw you
Standing in the pale moonlight
A princess removed from her fairytale
You made time stand still as everything
And everyone around you faded away
The thought of belonging to someone else
Will never happen because how can I
Give my heart and soul to someone else
When they both already belong to you

When The Merry-Go-Round Stops

the room is still spinning
but the ride is over
hope is gone
no lucky four leaf clover
the best you can do
when the merry-go-round stops
is know that you had fun
and it is time to get off
few will remember
that your ever took this ride
the only ones who matter
will be there at your side
so let them know you love them
as you wave good-bye
for some there is a ride much better
waiting when they die

What Comes Next

What comes next is no surpise
The time to live again is here
Truth will win out over lies
Hesitation doubt and fear

Similar to being born again
The time to start is new
And not allow my self to descend
Into madness that is not true

dance

at first you glance
then look away
we do this dance
we do each day

you know that I
am what you seek
yet when I try
you do not speak

I catch your eye
you smile and turn
you seem quite shy
but then I learn

no not a game
but just a dance
it seems a shame
we have no chance

maybe some day
we both will find
a better way
to pass the time

until that day
I smile again
you turn away
a new dance begins

When The Day Begins

When the day begins
The people with the brightest outlook on life
Are the ones that cause the sun to rise
Birds to sing and flowers to bloom
We all wake to a world that is created by the best of us
But as the day wears on it is easy to see
Those who look at the world through hearts that are black
Spend their entire day putting out the light
Of those who bring happiness to this world
Those who have hearts full of darkness
Take joy in making sure the light struggles to be seen
And as the day goes on and the light gets dim
Those with the darkest spirit celebrate
As their darkness covers all
And once again drowns out those with the light

another day

today is just another day
all the same since you went away
spent all day in bed
feeling sad wish I was dead
wanting you here with me
but I know it will never be
when you died you took my heart
and my soul fell all apart
never want to smile again
just wish this pain would end
how I want to hold you near
and your voice I long to hear

Everyday Ordinary

take joy in the
everyday ordinary
the morning shower
the broken shoelace
the same route
to and from work each day
the same dinner routine
celebrate the fact
that through ordinary
real genius is created
doing something enough
times makes it clear
how to do it better
every discovery is not
born from finding something new
it is often the product of
doing something that is
everyday ordinary
in a better way

The Painting

Above the mantle the painting sits
Aloof and distant and removed from it all
Unlike everything else in the room
The painting works with both nothing
And no one as it draws you in
Only to turn you away as you wonder why

Friends And Enemies

Hold fast to those who are really your friends
The true test starts when rough times begin
Though some may smile at you and say
That you can count on them any time any day
The real test comes when things get rough
And all the words in the world are not enough
When rough times toss you around like the see
Or leave you feeling like hanging from a tree
A friend is with you in tough times and then
The enemy will you see after the rough times end

Mistaken

never make the mistake
of thinking that what
you see is all there is

what most people
will accomplish with their
lives has nothing to do

with the expectations
of others and has
everything to do

with the goals they
have for themselves
and their desire to make it

I Would Rather Die Than Love Again

I would rather die than love again
So leave me to my tears
I know this pain will never end
No matter how many years

I would rather live my life alone
Instead of losing someone else
Because since you have gone
I cannot even love my self

time versus happiness

despite what many may think
time and happiness are not friends
think about it
when did a good time last forever
it never does and it never will
because time hates happiness
with a passion that runs deep
think of it this way
in the battle of good versus evil
happiness is good and time is
determined to make sure happiness
does not last
best memories are fleeting
best days are rare
and best years are so uncommon
they are numbered and arbitrarily decided
your best years to earn a living
and the happiness you experience
while you follow your dreams
are limited by time
and not by the happiness you experience
when your dreams come true

Fathers And Sons

How do fathers
Who grew up without fathers
Raise sons to be fathers
Who know what it means
To be a son

Growing up without my father
Made me want to be better
At being a father
More than anything
And anyone

Always fair and firm
Along with loving and giving
My best efforts to be a father
No matter what all seemed
To be wrong

No expectations from me
Or any pressure to be
And always saying
"I love you"
Never got the job done

Maybe it is too early to say
It will always be this way
Both saying "I hate you"
With no love for their father
From either son

It was more important to me
To raise them to be
Independent and strong
Than to try
And be their friend

But I have done all I can
To help both become a man
Despite how it hurts
And how it can possibly get worse
My job is done

When It Meant Something To Be Black

I grew up at a time when it meant something to be Black
A time when you fought and sometimes died for your
Right to cast a vote or sit at a lunch counter
Now it seems all Black means is how high you jump
Or if you embarrassed someone when you dunked a basketball
And even worse how much you shocked the world through
Music and lyrics and rhymes and behavior that goes against
Everything we were taught in Sunday School and in church
The appreciation for Martin and Malcolm and Miles
Is now replaced with an endless loop of samples and beats
No longer original works from Hughes or Baldwin or Giovanni
But a new breed of Cats who see green as the new Black

La Contra Cantata

some lives are just a joyous song
while in others the music does not belong
while the rhythms swirl and the chorus sings
to some it does not mean a thing

they hear no notes nor feel the beat
nothing will get them on their feet
no reason to live or take a chance
and let the music make them dance

At Night

the cool
dark anguish
that is
our lives
at night
is only
seen through
the eyes
of those
who seek
to do
things they
would never
do in
the light

the mask
we wear
at night
is never
seen in
the day

the lies
we tell
and the
lives we
pretend we
live are
the darkest
corners of
our deepest
fears finally
set free

we paint
our faces
to hide
who we
really are
as we
meet others
who will
be someone
totally different
by day

and yet
we celebrate
and cherish
the chance
to lie
to ourselves
as often
as we
can as
soon as
the sun
goes down

Each Day

Each day is the opening
Of a brand new play
Today it may be a comedy
Or a drama may come your way
It may have a short run
Or it could be here to stay
The one thing that is certain
Is that you are the star today
So know your part and take a bow
Act One is underway

teaching our hearts

unlike time and love
the heart does not
last forever

but just like
time and love
the heart is
fickle and faint

and despite knowing
each day the heart
will be beaten and
battered and bruised

by the ones we
love the most we
still live and laugh
and love and teach
our hearts to forget

Playing By The Rules

can anyone who
plays by the rules
ever come out on top

or does the mere act of living
favor the bold and daring
as opposed to those who
sit and wait for
whatever hand fate
deals them

since life is not
a game how
can there be rules
and since there are
no rules how can anyone
possibly play by them

there are things we
all should know and
should do when it
comes to how we
treat each other

but success and failure
should be based on
how hard you work
not being in the
right place at the right time

sunset

as the summer sun draws closed this day
and the cooling breeze passes your way

you feel the wind renew your soul
as you watch another day grow old

from where you sit all is quiet and still
the summer sun settles down just beyond the hill

you think about the things you did this day
and all the others things that you let slip away

what a perfect way to bring the day to a close
as the cool summer breeze fills your heart and your nose

and you wish every day could end this way
as you search your heart and you begin to pray

you thank God for his wonderful gifts so plenty
any you ask his blessings for those without any

for your family and friends you pray for good health
and ask that God bless them all with good wealth

for yourself you ask God for your soul to find rest
because you know tomorrow will bring your faith a new test

The Journey

a bead of sweat forms
on your forehead
and slowly trickles
past your eyes
setting of sparks
as it captures the
beauty of your gaze

next it seductively glides
across your cheek and
pauses briefly above
your lips taunting and
teasing me to come and get it
and just as quickly
the invitation is snatched away

the journey continues to the
edge of your chin where that
simple bead of sweat now must
decide to become a cliff diver
and splash down between your
beautiful breasts or continue
the slow seductive path along
the graceful curve of your neck

as the erotic ballet continues
the bead of sweat becomes a
graceful swan swimming across
the contours of the placid lake
of your neck and once again
it tantalizes and beckons me

to rescue it from this seductive
voyage and mingle it with the
sweat from my body
that at the same time
is performing a similar dance for you

Haunted By The Past

Those haunted by the past are destined to repeat it
Said the ghostly old lady who appeared in a dream
Frail and nearly lifeless she shook as she spoke
But her words went through me and settled on my heart

The image was clear but her message was strained
Was it to enjoy each day before time slips away
Or was it to never live with a life full of regrets
Plan for the future and but keep all things in context

The answer it seems none may never know
But is a dream just a dream or does it mean more
All things in time will be the things that we hold dear
And maybe with time her message will become clear

What Others See

The zoo that is your life
Looking out while others gawk
Filled with turoil and with strife
Only you hear them as they talk

Look at those ears and that nose
Are words that crush your soul
You feel lonely and exposed
As their words take their toll

But your mirror has many sides
Most that others will never see
They feed on your fears then hide
So who is caged and who is free

Independence Day

Injustice anywhere leads to oppression everywhere
Declare today as your Independence Day from
Blindly and blandly following those who would
Rule others with their hatred instead of their hearts

Let the fireworks that light up the sky at night
Resembling the most beautiful flowers in the world
Plant the seeds for the constant fight for freedom
And justice and equality for every person on earth

Somewhere In Me

somewhere in us all
exists the chance to be
everything we always
dreamed we would be

successful and rich
and good looking as well
but there also exists
that part of us that is
more mirror than man

that part only reflects what
we see in others
more wimp than woman
it will always say
we are not good enough

and it is that part of us
that will always keep
our dreams from coming true
there is a lot to be said
for hard work and control

but somehow those things
are never talked about
the same way we talk
about a lavish and
luxurious life

most of us want
the fabulous life
but many of us are
just afraid to admit it

live like a millionaire
for a few minutes each day
if only by thought if you
cannot afford the deed

because the chance to
be who we always dreamed
of being is somewhere in you
and it is somewhere in me

The Ghost Over the Hill

In the still of the night
When the moon is heavy
Never travel by the light
Or venture near the levee

For the ghost over the hill
Is still looking for a soul
And she remains there until
The waters grow still and cold

They say the ghost is lonely
And she is searching for her love
The truth is known by only
The ghost and God above

And maybe just one other
Her lying unfaithful mate
Who fell in love with another
And sealed her tragic fate

The legend says she fell
As she waited for his boat
Her soul doomed straight to hell
Because she could not float

Others say the way she died
Was from a jealous rivals hand
And that her lover lied
When his boat came upon land

Now they total twenty
Who have died in mysterious ways
And some think that is plenty
Who have seen the end of their days

So never love someone so pretty
That they are wanted by one and all
And never go near the levee
At night or you will fall

Never trust a cheating lover
And more important still
You do not want to be another
Victim of the ghost over the hill

Inspiration

Inspiration is that bitch who got into a fight with your ex-girlfriend Muse
Everyone always told you they looked and acted just like sisters
You just had no idea there were so many of them
Other women tried to stop the fight
You lost count somewhere around ten or eleven
Now everywhere you look there she is or you see someone who reminds you of her
Of both of them actually and you struggle trying to figure out what you did wrong
You were never serious about that other woman named Jealousy
She was just a coworker you had a drink with one time
You regret the day your assistant Envy introduced the two of you
But that was enough for Inspiration to go running back to Muse with the whole story
You tried to explain your side but Muse was done with you
Inspiration stood there listening to every word with an evil grin on her face
Now the two of them are fighting in a winner take all battle for your soul
And you wait hoping both of them will take you back

THIS POEM WAS FINISHED AT MIDNIGHT ON SATURDAY, SO THIS IS FOR SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 2012

Ready

There are many different types of ready
Some are born ready while others
Spend a lifetime waiting on a chance
That may never come

The worse kind of ready is to be like a dancer
With two left feet that no matter how much
You practice you will never be as good
As you are in your dreams

Or a carpenter who spends every day
Of his life building the house of the future
With great innovation and improvement on design
And then open the door and watch it crumble at your feet

Or like a poet who feels the joy and sorrow
Of every great moment and tragic event that happens
And only is able to write what you are reading now
To me this is the worst kind of ready of all