Haiku

I won't touch Bluecross
with a thirty five foot pole
His vestibule smells

Animated corpse
of the former president
does not feel the pain

A little while ago I,
Responded to a post,
An Unwashed band question was,
Asked by the message host.
To that question I replied that,
A steamroller was my pick,
Many people thought that I was silly,
Or that my head was thick.
Not so, I gibber gleefully,
But I didn't know myself,
Why the steamroller was the instrument,
That I took from my mental shelf.                                                    

But I have reflected my since then,
Upon the steamroller thing,
And it strikes me a s quite an apt description,
As I do my thing.
Every day as a school principal,
I put my shoulder to the wheel,
I chug along with perserverence,
That I how I feel.
I try to motor right along,
And make the bumpy things smooth,
Like relationships and other conflicts,
I know you get the groove.
I move through each task quite slowly,
But forward I always move,
I get things done with dogged determination,
The way behind me's smooth.
I do not change for the sake of it,
But change when it is needed,
Because of my imposing reputation,
My presence is often heeded.
Oh my Lord, that's a bit conceited,
But I think it's true,
If you disagree with the last few bits,
I'll gladly listen to you.                                                    

But by far the most pressing case,
For the steamroller bit,
Is the driving force that drives us,
I share the same with it.
When you get right down to the tin tacks,
As is everyone's pleasure,
We're nothing but big quantities of hot air,
And both under lots of pressure!                                                    

Cheers from the Land of Oz                           

Loneliness

In my chest lies a simple organ,
It beats slowly in agony,
It is held within a fist,
A fist not of stone,
Nor flesh and blood,
But one of spirit and mind,

It slowly closes,
Agony,

I wander my life like I'm watching a TV show,
I see couples,
Happy,
Their smiles cut my heart like a knife,

I watch things pass by,
A play a TV show,
Something speaks of love lost or love denied,
The knife in my heart gains a serrated edge,
It cuts deep and slow,

As always I render comfort to those few in my life,
I sit and listen,
I try to take the pain,
I add it to my own,
I listen to them complain,
Of being lonely,
Of having lost,

I can't stop,
I can't shut my ears,
I have to listen,
It's my blood,
My nature,
I would have an easier time not breathing,

It hurts just the same                  

Haiku

Oh Ronald Reagan,
Do you have a concussion?
Stop hitting yourself.

Sandman

I’ve slid down the rainbow end
learned how to fly
chased mermaids at the waters edge
climbed to castles in the sky

Found the true Atlantis
danced on cloud nine
answered the Sphinxes riddles
drank red-red wine

but my favorite dreams of all
when the sandman leaves his dust
are the times I've held your hand
had simple dreams of us

we’ve walked to the earth’s edge
counted clouds in sky’s of blue
watched a newborn butterfly
learned that love is true

-------------------

Am I invisible to you,
when I'm near, do you
see through me,
Do you hear my breath
but not
know the source,
Do you feel my
heart beating next
to yours even though
I'm not near you,
Do you remember how
I taste, from way
back when,
do you feel my lips
against your cheek,
my hand in yours,
even though I'm not
there for you anymore,
do you ever reach
for me even though
you know
I'm not there
but wish I was,
do you ever
close your eyes
and reach to cup
my head in your hands,
to open them
and find only air,
Do I have to tell you
or do you already realize
That I do...?

"crash"

every time i think of you
i'm paralyzed
hold my breath
count to a hundred a hundred times
anything not to think of you
and hit that cold place
in my mind
that great big hole you must have
fallen right through
god i'm paralyzed
i can't parse it
every time i'm asked to think of you