December 31

It seems to be the beginning of the end,
But in reality, it's simply a beginning.
All one can do is follow the wind,
For otherwise, there is simply no winning.
We are at the crossroads of a new tomorrow,
Of visions candid, whether they be monstrous or fair.
It's December 31, and it's almost a long time ago
When you, when me, when we were all there.

The trees have all lost their leaves,
And you and I have each grown a little older.
We've ridden a ship, tested rocky seas,
Each having grown a little bit bolder.
We can never outpace the sands of time's flow
No how, no way, no where.
It's December 31, and it's almost a long time ago
When you, when me, when we were all there.

The Wise Man once said that everything is cyclical,
For time rages on at roaring paces,
And the Wise Man knew, for He isn't simply whimsical,
For He gracefully painted our faces.
He told me that I should forget any woe
Be it unfriendly, unkind, or unfair.
It's December 31, and it's almost a long time ago
When you, when me, when we were all there.

It's winter, for sure, but remember this:
Life will certainly begin to spring again.
It's not all about one raging abyss,
But the gathering in The Lion's Den.
Sometimes, we don't have our ducks in a row,
But it's ok, for we're not going anywhere.
It's December 31, and it's almost a long time ago
When you, when me, when we were all there.

You're Just a Star on TV

My shrink said to paint a pretty picture.
I asked him what, and he said it's all within me.
I decided to paint what is simply the most beautiful thing of all.
I'm going to paint you, my darling, the shiniest star in the sky.

You brighten the mood all the time
Whether the times be good or they be bad.
You're the person I wish to wake up to
Each and every morning the rest of my life.
Maybe a simple picture will do.

And I start to paint the picture,
Figuring how to sketch your body of work,
Trying to figure out where to recreate timeless beauty first.
I think I'll start with your face first,
Go with the most beautiful smile of all.
There! But does it do you justice? I think not.
For nothing can transcend perfection,
Nothing, well, other than God.

There's the eyes, the nose, the face,
Smoothy-silk skin melting the canvas.
Darling, I think you've seduced the canvas.
You strike such a pose, madamoiselle;
It's almost frightening how beautiful you are.
I don't know whether to paint horns or a halo with wings.
With every stroke, I approach my goal
Of defining what makes me go in this crazy world.

Finished! But something's missing
About the picture, for it has gaping holes.
It isn't flesh and blood, so it turns out.
My shrink was right; I should've listened, I need a reality check.
I'm just one crazy fan too diehard to understand
That you're just a star on TV.

If Love is a Toy

It seems to me funny, this gift of mine,
Bought with the notion it would make all sublime.
The thing is, we all live in a material world,
A place full of idols, of symbolisms furled.

If love is a toy, I choose not to play.
If it isn't a Godsend, why, I will simply stay away.
Love is a man and a woman bound until they're old and gray,
And that, my friend, is really all I got to say.

Excuse me my darling, but may I inquire
About those lotions, those nasty things used to fuel the fire?
Those fallacious sorts of things are not really "real,"
For love has it's specific kinds of feel.

If love is a toy, I want no part.
If it isn't from the heart, well, it's off to a bad start.
Love can't be bought or sold from a shopping cart.
If you want my affection, hit the bullseye with a dart.

I see you're trying to reach my heart through country matters,
But I'll quickly let you know that'll leave all your hopes in tatters.
Darling, listen up, for there is only one certain way:
Show me your feelings, show me they're here to stay.

If love is a toy, I choose not to partake.
What for with a toy, for heaven's sake?
If you want to win over my heart, it's a piece of cake.
Just love me for life, forever, regardless of make.

To Never Say Die

From the man to the lady:
If it should please you, lady,
I'll pass you the wine.
You can drink 'til you're merry, naughty and fine.
You can sing aloud a saucy song,
For if it should please you, to never say die.

I've had a few drinks too many myself.
I've been a making out like a rotten lad.
What for my punishment, others may inquire.
I have you, my dear lady, upon my outstretched arm.
We drink to drink, drink to be merry, to never say die.

The Omnipotent Soliloquy:
Two drunken lovers in a sweet embrace rustle and tumble,
Like lions in the jungle, following Mother Nature's beat.
To watch, one must appreciate this act of recreation,
Of potential procreation, that which gives life.
Punishment? No! This is only the beginning, to never say die.

And the act is over, the lovers' dance is halted,
And they stare each other in the eyes,
And they wonder what makes the world go 'round.
They wonder what makes the world spin.
Acts like this, to never say die.

Christmas Time is Here (Where is the Cheer?)

It's late in December, and chilly outside.
In fact, I think it's cold as hell.
Leafless trees abound, look like bony hands.
They may well grab when I ain't looking.
Doesn't this make you think of winter as a pestilence?
Christmas time is here. Well damn.
The commercialism flies again.
Other people rattle their fat asses around
Because it's that Christmas"y" time of year,
But when they see me, they ask, "Where is the cheer?"

Well, I guess I don't care about the festivities
Since I don't have a lover with whom to share.
I miss my childhood in ways you can't comprehend,
My innocense, lost, when Santa "got killed."
Somehow, the birthday party shifted gears
When the commercialism rode into town.
Christmas time is here. You ask, "Where is the cheer?"
Why, you have it, my two cents on Christmas.
It's the most depressing time of year.
Merry Fucking Christmas, or "bah humbug," to you.

A Silly Poem About a Desperate Man

Pacing back and forth seems suited for me.
I'm no fucking good, so it seems.
You lock me in a cage for others to see.
People laugh 'til they cry at all of my screams.

I'm hanging in a cage six feet from the floor.
I'm crouched into a position, begging for mercy.
Then, the people walk away, walk out the door.
The bastard who imprisoned me threw away the key.

Now the bastard, you may ask, was a friend to me.
But one day, we had a falling out, and that was the end of that.
It was over this girl we both loved, you see,
But I was too weak, and I thus fell flat.

Now, she's with him. She's with him now,
And I am here, hanging in a cage.
I guess I'll be relegated to making it with a cow,
Working a job, making a small wage.

If I Died Tomorrow

We all have a living to make.
The idea is different to each and every person.
Me papa works at a drug store in town,
While mama toils away with handicapped children
All day, everyday, with no end in sight.
My sister, who is me mama's inspiration,
Is handicapped, and goes to school to be productive.
And me? What about yours truly?
Well, I don't do a hell of a lot, really.
I'm a parasite, I suppose you could say.
I suck the blood from my host,
Sit around while it circulates throughout my body,
And smile a shit-faced grin. At what, I do not know.
So, there you have my life in a nutshell.
It has no substance. Zilch. Nada.
No friends to share my few joys in life.
My own family thinks I'm worthless as hell.
Perhaps that's the way I'm supposed to be.
Anymore, I just don't care. Don't care at all.

If I died tomorrow, would I miss the world?
If I died tomorrow, would anyone really care?
If I died tomorrow, would this ol boy see heaven or hell?
I suppose this is pointless to say, but it has to be said:
I think if I died tomorrow, life wouldn't experience a ripple.

Thinking

Sitting here, writing a little diddy.
Nothing much. No. Nothing much at all.
Just wasting some time, thinking, you know.
Must've been something meaningful.
Could it have something in the realm of philosophical?
One could make that case...
The case that everything, in essence, is philosophical.
Intelligence is the most overrated sonuvabitch ever.
We kill, kill and maim, maim and steal from our fellow man.
What is the intelligence in that, I dare ask?
Still, there are some positive aspects to the human race.
Many of the offshoot of the homo sapien are altruistic, genuinely,
Devoting much time and energy to those less fortunate.
Generosity is a delicious virtue to have. This is so true.
And there is ingenuity: the ability to increase one's quality of life.
All well and good, but then you have some unscrupulous people
Who choose to do harm to others in route to their fortune and glory,
And thus, we're back to square one.

Human nature. What a bitch.
But, what do you expect for our thinking?

With Friends Like You

Sometimes, I feel like I get lost in a wild wilderness.
The darkness just gets to be almost too much to bear.
No sun to help light the path before me.
No compass to direct me to and fro.

But with friends like you, I can make it through
From sea to shining sea, and then some, too.
You're beautiful, man, and I hope to repay you someday,
But today, you'll have to settle with me as a friend.

Somewhere along the way, I became lost.
I was heading for nowhere, nowhere fast.
I prayed for help, anything to guide me on to the golden path,
To a way of clarity I haven't known in so long.

But with friends like you, I can make it through,
And we can learn about each other true.
Somehow, I've managed to go on without any friends like you,
And Lord, how I've really paid the price.

I was blinded by lies, by mistruths,
And I was deceiving only myself.
One day, it occurred to me, "What am I going to do?"
I had wasted my life; it had flew and flew.

But with friends like you, I can make it through.
I can go anywhere and see anything in this great, big, round world.
With a friend like you, we might as well reach for the skies,
Reaching for the sun's rays, let them irradiate our lives.

Barber Shop

I walk along, hand in father's paw,
Licking a lolly pop, strawberry flavored.
We're going to get a hair cut at the corner barber shop.
We approach the little building
With the blue and red striped poles,
Where men go to lose their hair.
There's just something about this barber shop
I haven't quite figured out.

There's just something about this barber shop,
A place where men can be men.
A crew cut here, a burr there;
Elton said it's peculiar in a funny sort of way.
To think that barbers used to be surgeons
Frightens me a little at least,
Which brings me to the point of this here poem
Whose topic I haven't quite figured out.

Finally, it's my turn in the barber's chair,
Time for me to lose some hair.
With every comb and a shave,
Well, it just feels so liberating.
My hair had begun to take over,
And I guess this place is a hall of freedom of sorts,
Which perhaps answers the question,
Perhaps this topic I've now figured out.

My Wife and I

A little girl from the backwoods of Tennessee
With dreams so big, she couldn't fit 'em in this state.
She grew up fast, some say way too fast,
And she ran off down Georgia way.
Her big dreams led her to this new stage of her life,
Away from her mommy and daddy.
She moved to Athens, down to school,
To get an education, you know, you can't beat.
She talked and carried a big stick,
Claiming there was nothing to stand in her way.
I disagree with her there, and there's a reason
That I think I know this so:
The little girl from Tennessee
Never counted on meeting me.

We happened to meet in a bar in Atlanta
Amongst happy drunkers on New Years Eve.
We had a few beers, perhaps too many, you know,
Because she lifted up her shirt and whoopie!
I had to admit I was impressed with her moxie,
And hoped to match that the best that I could.
Well, we went on back to her house
Because, after all, I was at a hotel,
And we rode up and down all night long
Until we were exhausted the next morning.
I told her that I liked her style,
And she smiled, said she liked mine, too.
She told me she wanted to go home to Tennessee,
And so she came along with me.
When we got home to Tennessee,
We got married in church in the mountains
We lived on, happily ever after,
Had many children, too.

Our children grew up, but we did not;
We just did what we did best.
We made love, not a pretty site in old age,
But we had fun, and fun is all that mattered.
We traveled, had spirit, just lived the good life,
Just me, me and my wife, two kindred spirits.
But then the time came when she was not so well,
And the situation became great.
She died, and I thought so would I,
But I persevered and lived on.
I lived on, remembering her,
And it was all the fuel I would need.
Then it came time for me to meet ol glory,
Making my offspring teary-eyed.
I reveled in the fact that I was to meet my wife,
And I took my last breath and died.