New blog, new server

Hello to you all. It's been a while, as you can tell, since I have updated this blog. The reason is that I do not have the capability on this server to simply press "Enter" and then skip lines when I need. As a result, I have decided to switch to a new server to serve as host to my poetry. It still will be called "Tennessee Fried Poetry," but it will be on Xanga.com. If you would like to drop by the site and read what's there, you're more than welcome to at this address: www.xanga.com/dagan81 . Be sure you turn your sound up because there's a little song by The Beatles in the background which is very appropriate for the theme of the blog. Anyway, take care, and thanks for your patronage.

The Death Mask

There's a man in the bed.

He's in bed, but he ain't dead.

He lays there helplessly, redundant.

He looks oblivious to the world.

He's in bed, but no sir, he sure ain't dead.

That old man sure ain't dead yet.

I wonder what the old man is thinking.

His suffering is loud. It should be a crime.

He lingers on, strung by the mythical puppeteer,

And I try not to shed a tear.

I'm looking at a man I knew for many years,

But now, I fail to even recognize his face

Because he is now wearing death's mask.

I guess what this most humbling time suggests

Is that we know little of the path God treads.

We just trust Him blindly to do the right thing,

And yet, it seems so cruel, you see.

We're all pawns in an eternal chess match,

A game with infinite events and possibilities,

But we must remember what God gave us,

His breath and His love so that we may survive.

Live and let live, but always remember that

We live and love one day,

And wear the death mask the next.

The preacher man comes, and he says,

"Never fear, for God is always here,"

But leaving all that behind just seems so hard

On the soul and on the psyche.

Yet, I heard the man say one time,

"This is the material world,

For the death mask is merely an opening portal

To a better place, to a better time."

What Is The Answer?

To describe my mind is easy to do.

It's on a perpetual wanderlust.

Beautiful women go to and fro,

And I simply never know.

Do they ever look at me?

Do they even give a damn?

How am I to fulfill the quest

Of procreating the human race?

What is the answer?

Surely, there's someone wiser than me.

I walk like a man and I talk like a man,

And yet, I just feel so damn insecure about it all.

I think that I know what love is,

And yet, nobody seems to be giving me a chance,

Thus, I am on a perpetual hunt for some answers.

What can I do? What can I say?

I'm here on a stump, still waiting today.

Flocks of the birds fly south for the winter,

Only to return and multiply in the summer.

I see this all the time, and yet, I never cry.

They say real men are sensitive,

That to be masculine means to cry,

And if that be the case, well, I guess I'll die without an heir.

Tailor Made For Me

Oh, what beautiful eyes,

Ruby-red lips, long black hair.

I can't say anymore, anything else,

Other than I think you're so damn beautiful.

They tell me you're a bit young, though,

And so I'm forced to cool my jets

Before I get burned by the law,

But, that won't dim my heart any at all,

For I still believe that you're tailor made for me.

Well, I've been dreaming of something

That will take me closer to Heaven.

That thing, baby, is definitely you,

But apparently, that's taboo in this day and time.

I've watched as you approached me,

Staring me straight in the eyes,

Mesmorizing me with your charm and charisma,

Only for me to wake up to realize

That this is all Fate's tease...one big tease.

However, that still doesn't dim my love one iota for you,

Since you are, after all, tailor made for me.

Like A Little Kid

Time was like a lightning bolt

For such a long, long time,

Then, there came the vacuum

To suck all of that up.

I wasn't prepared.

I simply wasn't prepared,

And I don't know if I ever will be, sir.

I have always aimed to capture the world,

To place it in the palm of my grasp.

So far, I haven't had any luck.

What will I ever do now?

Well, I saw that my ship was sinking fast,

And I needed to ensure I'd have air,

For you see, my friends, unlike my peers,

My life has yet to have even begun.

Love is, to me, a stranger,

And my career hasn't even spun.

I want the world, and God should give it to me.

I just want to know when His Will and mine will be done.

I've never thought that the world is too much,

For in fact, I'm a super-duper mastermind.

To me, it's just a matter of time

Before all is right, and all is mine.

I just know that in many ways

I'm like a little kid,

A youngster with sparkling dreams and bright, wide eyes.

I aspire to things above the ordinary,

And I want to reach up and touch the sky.

Perhaps I'm just a bit of a megalomaniac,

And indeed, that may be so.

Friends and family often say to me

That I expect too much too soon,

But I simply reply that the world's good enough for me.