Holier Than Thou

I read
Those idle words
And pondered what had bred
The evil force which always herds
My peers to drunken pastures to be fed.

I know no other way to phrase the pain,
The anguished sting of staying tall
And watching paths of Cain
Consume them all,
Their bane.

I throw
My hands aloft,
And then this hope I sow
Must take root in the soil soft,
But flocks of greedy ravens keep in tow.

“Unfair,” the bitter voice inside me shouts,
“To have to keep the torment in.”
Decisions given clout
Should start within,
Not out.

For all the good it does or does not do,
While you roam 'round, I'm holier than you.

Carpe Vita -- Seize Life (4/28/07)

Verse 1:
I used to ignore you,
You people of the world.
I blinded myself to
Their painful lives unfurled.

These poor souls, unaided,
They struggle throug this strife.
Corrupt by my culture,
I went about my life

Chorus:

I need something.
You just needed me.
The world may be struggling, struggling,
But I reach my hand out.
The world may be struggling, struggling,
But I reach my hand out.

Verse 2:

I travelled to serve you,
you people of the world.
You showed me the value,
Like pollishing a pearl.

These poor souls unaided.
They struggle through the strife.
Ignoring my culture,
I redefine my life.

Coda:
I've got all I need, all I could need.
I've got all I need, all I could
Give...it...all...a - way.

Rocking (4/26/07)

poor Horsey's sighte has gone from him
he was my Bestest friend
i loved my Horsey way bak then
it had to Go and end

Poor Horsey's sight has gone from him,
Away through agéd eyes.
He once obeyed my will and whim,
now musters but a sigh.

that box right they're is awful big
it must get in his way
he keaps on staring right ahed
he'll talk again sum day

The boxes in this storage room
Consume poor Horsey's sight.
He stares at labels dim with gloom
And ponders days of might.

id stair and look down at his legs
those seamed to come alive
pulled his ears and poked his nose
and singed my favrite rime.

His wooden frame is heft on legs
Of sinew rich and strong.
His ears of cloth perked up to beg
To hear my playful song.

i like to say he'll be back soon
it lets me feel OK
i dont think he'll be quite the same
cuz i have gone away

I promise Horsey I'll be back
To re-live all our fun.
But even so I fear I lack
Old Horsey's fleetfoot run.

The Reading of the Old Class Log (4/25/07)

The inspiration for this poem (it's title) will make a lot of sense to anyone who has had Mr. Hickerson and has therefore been exposed to the painful delights of the daily class logs, or minutes, as most sapiens would term them. I enjoy the oft-employed line "The reading of the old class log," so I snatched it into an unrelated environment.

The Reading of the Old Class Log

And yes, the dappled, lighting rays
Bespeckle pads of mossy green.
And always trees of cavern height
Besmudge the brightened sheen.

But this rich scene is centered on
Bespectacled eyes and silver brow
Bent low above a block of wood
Begrudging ancient vows.

Cool shadows play across the mead,
Consume the geezer's tipsy head.
Caught up by thoughts, he of past days
Consults the wooden thread.

Blackened edges smooth with soot,
Condensed from tribal fires spent,
Border words, engraved and cut,
Concealing power pent.

Deepened burns obscure some words,
Each a loss to those who read,
Depending on tradition's voice to
Ease their wisdom's need.

Elaboráte designs these aren't;
Every word instead contains
Eden's promise kept in grain while
Evil here remains.

Finally, the old man stands,
Forward holds The Old Class Log.
For he has quite discerned at last
Four messages from fog:

Equal men will always strive.
Fervent work will always yield.
Even poor will change the world.
Justice is our shield.

My Music (4/15/07)

Who could truly live
Without a warm chord,
A minor touch, a resolution
That reaches the soul?

I travel with every song,
Washed away and washed clean,
Comforted and calm.

The real world tugs to
No avail as waves of
Melody mask and melt
The concerns of my present.

On the blasted, battered
Beach my scalding feet
Are cooled and cleansed.

Grains of measured salt sting
Exposed edges of my mind,
But in the pain of guilt and grime,
Truth radiates through guilded rhymes.

I think in time with the driving,
Primal pounding; my mind dances
With weaving, wild riffs.

My music is inseperable,
Engrained and twisted together
With when I stare
And when I blink;
With who I am
And how I think.