Sometimes, Always, Never

Sometimes I have to stop and think
Trying to stay happy, not to be sad
The texture of my soul is stressed
By all the many troubles around me

Always it seems there's something else
Bills are high, weather's bad
My left hip hurts and I think I know why
Nothing's going the way it should be

Never seems to be enough going on
Until , of course, someone gets me mad
Doing stupid things, ignoring their own needs
Moaning about problems no one else can see


Ah, maybe I should just be happy.
Sometimes I worry about my Dad.
Always I worry about my daughter
Never do I worry about Henry
Never do I worry about me...

Ah, maybe I should.

Hands
Touching, seeking
Searching for a warmth I cannot feel
Grasping at air that holds nothing

Fingers
Bending, tired
Writing things that I cannot use
Pushing words out of my mind

Nails
Polished, chipped
Costing me money I do not have
My only vaniity , besides my hair

Hands, together
Holding, rubbing
A spark of contact with my love
Tying me to sanity and family

Fingers
Probing, stroking
Seeking places upon my body
Places I won't talk about on this board

Hands
Reaching, Touching, Seeking
Our conduit to our lives, point of realization
Our lifeline to the reality we have

What is in a post?

Bits and bytes, numbers
1's and 0's in the phone lines, streaking
Making up these words from my fingers
Does it really matter?

Is my prestiege greater, or my word heavier?
Does this add to my accomplishments?
Is every post a worthy attachment to my name?
Does it really matter?

I've spoken of sillyness and seriousness
Of Fallout and of Fan Fictions
Of Poetry and of Politics
Does it really matter?

I've done this a thousand times now
Quite literally, see my post count!
Not that it means much, even to me....

Does it really matter?

Falls again
Standing at the top
Of the world in my mind

I see the falls before me
Shining, shining wall of water
Cascades down to erupt

Into spray upon hard rocks.

Life flows onward, unceasing
I scarce have time to enjoy it.

I see people living so fast
That they do not see their
Eventual destination, as they

Smash upon the hard rocks of life.

Maybe I'm a fool, for thinking so
My mind's not the best these days

I find myself comparing
My life to that shining waterfall
As it beats upon wet rocks

Which resist their flow eternal.


Note: there's a very small little waterfall, maybe 10 feet, near my house in a small park. There's a rock I sit on , surrounded by rosebushes and willow trees, where I think and write to the sound of rushing water. The thought just struck me , and it might be witless.

Broken Shards of Loss
There is pain, there is sorrow
There is nothing left of me
I am empty, I am broken
I have lost my will to live
Skies are dark, winds are cold
And I cannot seem to see
There is nothing, nothing left now
Nothing left for me to give

Shards of hatred
Shards of loss
Broken mirror of my soul
I am lonely
I am forsaken
I am tossed aside by the road

Then I wonder, at a moment
Should I give in or go on
Let darkness take me, take me down
Or struggle vainly against my pain
The sun is shining, the sky is clear
Yet my desire for life is gone
There is pain, there is agony
There is NOTHING left to gain

Shards of tears
Shards of misery
Broken windows to my mind
I am alone
I am scorned
I am cast aside by the road

Shards of agony
Shards of pain
Broken doorways into my heart
I am cursed
I am nothing
I am left alone by the road

Unplugged Again
I'm wandering through my house
Looking at a flowerpot sitting in a pool of sunlight
The daffodil, fragile and happy, unaware of pain or loss
Serene in it's life, yet unaware of serenity

I wander over soft carpets , my cold and tired
Windy's left her jacket out, the cashmere is still warm
She doesn't see the things I do, innocent and pure
Peaceful in her life, yet unaware of her tranquility

I walk down the hall to my bedroom, fingers touching the wall
My husband Henry lies sleeping, strong arms folded over him
The dim light outlines his features, twisted in pain and triumph
He has won the prize, yet is unaware of his victory

With a sigh, I return to the kitchen, glancing at the TV
A blank-eyed newscaster spews bites of news at me
My eyes seek out my baby, Dana in her crib, so innocent
Pure in her gentle sleep, yet unaware of that purity

I wonder often if I am worthy of the friends I have
The things I do bother me, and yet they remain still
I feel empty, cold, angry, and still inside but still hard
I continue on in life, but am I missing something too?

Torn
In two by feelings I
Can't or won't control
Now I feel worn

Sick
Inside from longing
Or simple lonliness
What a low trick

Pain
In my heart and soul
It never really stops
Nothing to gain


I ache for thee
Where are you , today
I can't find you , baby
You're always away
Going here, or over there
Always away from home
Where is your love and care
Why'd you leave me alone?

Torn
Torn right in half
Between need and want
On a cold morn

Torn
Torn like paper
Between two loves
Oh, I'm so worn.

The War in Heaven
Long ago, there was a place

A place of peace, and enjoyment
Where all could relax and laugh
And not take the world so seriously

The world , of course, did not like this
Suffering and confusion are it's likes
(and running out of beer)

So it went out and caused stress
And sent the pain of the world into the place
And there was strife and war

The legends are just that
For I know not what transpired
Nor do I care, in truth

As time passes, things crumble
Some go gently, like old bronze
Other burn brightly into ash

The place would not do so
Though it's building changed
The spirit remained

But was it the same spirit?
Or was it a dreaming memory
No one was quite sure

And then the angels fell
And strife rocked the place again
Anger, hurt, names, and arguing

Those new to the place were lost
Confused by the seething passions
Wondering if this was where they wanted to be

Others, older and wiser in the ways of the place
Decried against such arguing
Tried to stop the violence

One of them raised up his voice
A Paladin, bright and pure
Attempting to calm all involved

Against him was a figure in black
Cold and filled with an old memory
No less true, but with hideous strength

There were those in the place who asked for peace
And those who said they should leave again
And those who tried to laugh away the pain

The youngest of the members of the place
Looked around in despair and sorrow
At the wreckage of so much ... hate

There is a place for hatred and old wounds
There is a time for bringing up the problems
No one is perfect, neither are we good
We are all flawed, but so are diamonds
We are all imperfect, but so is gold
We are all, at time, immature, but so is a baby
We are all overwhelmed by the outside world
Who is not?

But let us not defile this place with that
Let us go forth, together, against THAT HATE
AND REMEMBER THAT WE ARE UNWASHED.

Now, then, forever, together. Unwashed. Fight the soap.

Have you ever?

Have you ever heard the wind
As it howls past your ears
As it slithers through your hair
And strips away your fears

Have you ever felt the sun
Shining down upon your skin
As it pierces through your body
Makes you feel alive again

Have you ever seen the stars
Burning cold and far and bright
On a balmy summer evening
Or a cold midwinters night

Have you ever smelled a flower
Reveled in it's sweet perfume
Gloried in it's beautiful promise
And in the majesty of its bloom

Have you ever tasted the kiss
Of your lover late at night
Loved them with all your heart
Held them close with all your might

Have you ever truly lived
Or have do you always deny
The beauty in our lives
Those things that make us cry
The wonder in a baby's laugh
The joy in a child's delight
The love in your fathers eyes
The glee when you are proven right
The laughter with your many friends
The glory of fireworks at night
The majesty of the mighty sea
The gift from God that we call sight

Have you ever truly pondered
What it would be like to lose
All these many miracles
Would you care to choose?

Enjoy life, my friends.

Echoes of Yesteryear

A silghtly contrived Fallouty poem....I'm bored.


There is a danger in the Wastes
It comes from arrogance and hate
It reaches out with long hard fingers
To drag us down into war

There is a horror from the past
Old technology left to fate
The energies that laid the world low
Brought back by long-lost lore

There is a cruelty in the eyes
And a sneering smile of late
In the countenances of leaders
Who have power yet want more


Echoes of yesteryear haunt us
Chase us through our sleep
Strike us with blasted deserts
Even as mutants nearer creep
Water turns to poison
The ground is cracked and dry
Nothing left to our children
Save to lay down and die


There is a power in the words
Of fanatics and bitter men
Who long for power to make
The world fit their dreams

There is a strength in the actions
Of those who seek these things again
Who try and bring back the Old World
But not all is as it seems

There are heroes in the land
Who will fight such a sin
Nameless, faceless, wanderers
Who fight no matter what Fate deems

Echoes of yesteryear fly by
Howling through the night
Chilling us to the very bone
Blasting us with their might
For every one who fights them
Who would give up life and hope
Are ten evil men who will never
Cease to grasp and grope

For the Echoes of Yesteryear