A Small Town’s Pride

the residents of Rogueville loved listening to their bell ring out from the town’s highest tower, the church spire

but the bell had a history

it was a thing of mystery

it’s origin hotly debated

the bell was silver plated

over brass and steel

that mighty bell did peal

three times a day

calling people to pray

until the word got out

what the bell was about

a souvenir from a war

a symbol of the horror

so the town took down

their symbol of pride

sadly setting it aside

There’s Got To Be More

chocolate ice cream and fudge sprinkled with a strawberry glaze, reading books, watching movies, playing board games on boring days,

dancing under the light of the moon, swimming naked in a hidden lagoon, wearing a funny costume

becoming a parent, politician, or playwright, creating a website, swimming in eternity pools all night,

prizes for running, jumping, and winning at Jeopardy, traveling to memorable places like France and Normandy, flying in planes that only hold three,

riding camels and horses in an exotic land, witnessing Yellowstone National Park’s geysers firsthand, walking on Mali’s white sand

hiking through the jungles of Peru, riding in a canoe, and learning Spanish too,

going to sports events, eating cabbage after it ferments, and living in tents,

but there’s got to be more

on some distant shore

my soul cries out

forevermore

In The Center

what’s in your center?

an enlightening epiphany

or more?

discovering your inner core?

a place to safely explore?

some say

the soul is your center

and gateway

to your spirit

that follows a pathway

up a celestial stairway

to heaven

but I wouldn’t know

I have a wayward soul

that wanders alone

seeking the center

of the universe

and it’s secrets

but

I still wonder why

I can never go home

no matter how hard I try

The Awakening

after a century the first thing I could see

was a replica of me staring with curiosity

we looked at one another

trying to discover

the mystery

it didn’t take long

to understand what was wrong

when I blinked an eye

so did the other guy

and it became clear

I was looking up into a mirror

and there was no reason for fear

but when I stood up

I heard a hidden gear

instead of my heart

there was a moving part

instead of skin

I had something akin

that gleamed in the light

and gave me a fright

until I realized I was still alive

even if my body didn’t survive

When No One Was Looking

he stood amidst the ruins of the city

a warrior raised with no pity

when no one was looking

a tear welled up in his eye

for all the men who had to die

she was as tough as could be

a corporate climber making money

but when no one was looking

she would cry

tired of being the bad “guy”

he was a professional fighter

who wanted to be a writer

when no one was looking

he proved he had what it took

and wrote a book

Who Cares?

c’mon, let’s be real

who cares about trivial facts

that are supposed to be a big deal?

a Hollywood star has a baby

whose name fans say is crazy

the royal family visited a park

and the children thought it a lark

the latest study found

that marmots are proud

the trending activity

is oversensitivity

c’mon…who cares

about millionaires?

or conspiracies?

or political memes

with hateful themes?

Who cares what others do?

As long as they don’t hurt you?

or ruin your day

and take something away?

who cares about others

unless their brothers or mothers?

who cares about anything at all

however big and however small?

That Little Voice

my earliest memory was a little voice

that told me I had a choice

I could pick good or bad

tell the truth or lie

and be happy or sad

I was free to decide

whether to be nice or snide

that little voice is still with me

and will be as far as I can foresee


Desert of Deceit

Burnt sands cover the liescape stretching between truth and deceit buried deep in a person’s mind. A desert of deceit. Unhindered by any convention, yet still possessing a conscience that sometimes asks questions about morality and sensuality.

Falsehoods, like scorpions and snakes, strike swiftly in the seething sands of a liar’s mind whose mission is to deceive. The liar’s soul, burnt by dwelling in the bronzed wasteland of duplicity, is shriveled and crispy.

There are those who dwell in this sandy hell by choice. Content to wander dunes of deceit. Content to live a lie. Content to vilify. Souls that were born bone dry. For these nomads in society, I have no pity.

Getting Real

our society has phonies to the left and right

truth is shunned and kept out of the limelight

getting real in these chaotic times is no easy task

everyone in the country is hiding behind a mask

deciding what is right or wrong is a real chore

it’s difficult to know who to abhor or adore

getting real is becoming harder every day

because people worry about what to say

it takes confidence and purpose to get real

sometimes it also takes nerves of steel