The Body Bags

There are too many of those today
But no one seems to care anymore.
Those tube take you nowhere
                                          except maybe purgatory
who knows anymore.
Do they tell the story
of life that bloomed with youth and vigor?
Does it share the scars etched into the feeble flesh?
Can it transmit all the challenges you overcame
battles won in God's name?
Does it say anything about the remains it contains?
Can it truly mirror the pain
never to be seen again?
That bag contains what time has wrought
But it can never contain ones soul.



If I had concentrated
taken the blame more, humbled myself more
maybe, just maybe if I had waited
in my life there would not be so much gore.
I can only sit and ponder
as each soul passes by my humble abode
quite slyly they look with wonder
born of a horror when one kisses a toad.

But I cannot remain here consumed by this monster
I must take the reigns eke out a future
break free from this guilt
grab my tools so I can rebuild
fashion something new
from the ashes of my dreams.



I feel rage. 
I feel fear.
I feel humiliated!
Like a tiger I will tear you apart.
How could you?
Why did you?
Make me feel this way.
All twisted, bent out of shape.
Inflamed in my rage of inferiority
I have been contained
to burn slowly
until nothing remains.
Let me have this
so I can destroy you and it.
Let me tear off your image 
and use it as my mask.
Let me wrap these tentacles around you
bring you to your knees
for I must feed
on your soul
attack you from within.

You look at me and I know
you cannot be trusted.
Nothing said nothing done
just a thought
just so
I do not know - 
but it must be so?
I must protect and keep
What is mine to keep.
I must stop you from knocking me off my feet
taking my shine.
I must keep you in line!

So I claw and squeeze
until the blood overflows.
For to do my business I must be heart -
Like a living nightmare
I remain close at heart.

And I will rage…

And I will Rage...

...against bigots on their stage
whose smiles poison and words inflame
...against the kindness of thieves
who see the suffering grieve as weak and take siege.
...against the promises of peace
made by those who hold the gun
who demand  praise for their  reign of death and terror.
...against the powerful who spiral out of control
                                                                    too vast to contain
who spit out skulls as they feast on our pain.

For though my power is made impotent
the will to fight does not wane.
my rage is all I have left so I will nurture and bottle it.
to get back my humanity to counter the pain.
I will master and wield it
to turn the tide and carry the day.



A stab that went too deep
A wound never healed.
A thought that took life
though born in the gutter.
A look that could kill
sprung to life through strife.
A mind given to impressions
warped, twisted, diseased.
A word uttered without thought
leaves chaos in its wake,
destruction felt through the ages,
sails torn,
courses diverted
That decisive act
borne of confidence
shatters the timid,
annihilates the unprepared.


What you thought was carefully crafted
falls down - 
dominos poorly stacked.
The plans you fashioned
on the backs of others
spins, attacks and devours
That victory today celebrated today
tomorrow the foundation of your shipwreck.

Beware of the tide
and where it may lead,
down highways and byways
that bring you to your knees.

Crazy Bud

Crazy Bud

Look at you!
Is that you?
Really you?
Well well well
you really made it
didn't you?
You did the impossible - 
but you're crazy after all.

An embryo too tightly wound
to show the beauty you carried
axil fragile
likely to break
but you held on
You had no power to conquer the mind
but you wait to conquer the heart.
Though you came in slow
your growth was sure
and so we waited
and look!
Here you are.
No resting bud 
are you
to be deceived by the coming cold
you fought through storm and sleet
to whorl most boldly.

You did your best
passed all your tests
and trials
to bloom 
and strike 
and die
to make way for another,

Would You Take It?

W0uld you take the road less travelled even if you had to leave everyone and everything you know? Would it be enough that this is what you are meant to do? Or would you huddle in fear of the unknown? These are some questions that we may be confronted with when we have to take the unpopular route. Those roads that make us more uncomfortable but in conquering offers redemption. We have to consider if the risk is worth pursuing something that has the possibility of so much loss. But when we must choose, which road will it be…

The Road Not Taken
                       by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.