Sickly Untitled

We tried to speak, but our throats were clogged with a thick mucus: the reason, of lies. We tried to listen, but our ears were clogged with the wax of ego.We tried to touch, but we had the belief of death take our feeling.. We tried to see, but were blinded by the darkness of doubt. We tried to move to the rhythms of life, but somebody stopped the record from spinning.

"The Day"

The day is slipping away with lost love and forgotten promises. Put to hard labor: arms, backs, hearts and souls; the children feel the heavy blow. Dreams ground up and served on a platter ..."Here!" "Finish your plate and don't forget the starving children!" Families struggle under the weight of the curse. Attitudes left unchecked, unlike the oil in the cars. If God helped us, would we listen? If you listened to yourself, would you listen? Do we politely listen then go our own way? Somewhere we've lost our freedom. Somewhere we've lost our soul. Some are on the streets out of their wits; who are they talking to? The day is slipping away...

"The Inner Child, Lost" AMBER ALERT

Happiness once lived in a child's eyes

till age crept in replaced it with lies

destroyed the dreams and shattered the will

till they drank from the cup never having their fill

mortality lingers and festers and rots

Perception my friend in a world of ink blots

Now

To whom, and where do they turn

since the pilot light died?

They seek comfort from within

but

finds nothing but sadness inside

Resuscitation

Spoon-fed daily news while lungs inhale plumes of smoke--

the smoke of doubt

Row, row, row your boat... Into the ether,

we ride with naught,

save our hope-- Gently down the stream...

Freedom awaits us

but distant Illusion's restraint hinges upon belief--

Life is but a dream. Thoughts burn, thoughts turn

like pages,

years pass like a razor's edge--

We are on the edge,

of greatness

The black heart on life support

Resuscitation