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Social Commentary
What possible can be said?
What can possibly be said?
About designer eyewear at a punk club?
Or the girl mimicking everyone’s dance?
The NASCAR hairdos and clothing?
The home-schooled child of intelligent design?
What possible can be said?
What can possibly be said?
The high school coach who married his student?
The five-child mom who runs the daycare?
The late-night line of cars at Wendy’s
The feed me sign at every highway ramp?
What possible can be said?
What can possibly be said?
About the man who discovered he was Jesus?
Or the child who knows his guns?
The Jehovah’s Witness driving a Lexus?
The feminist who cooks for her husband?
She Awaits Another Memory
We all gave her flowers for her day
She smelled them, vased them, admired them
But the gesture was a short one
Though they brightened her countertop
It seems her heart was elsewhere
Not in the gift, but afar
Toward former gifts and flowers
An era now long gone, decayed
Climes
Eyes lay thick the greener roads
Paths uphill through warmer climes
The soil is rich with poppies now
Winding groves and sleepy hues
Drift us back aside the sea
Along the road to Bursa
Well Read
I can read you like a book
But you’re not especially well written
I look at your cover but try not to judge
What you say about yourself is not novel
It’s not even enough to write home about
I read you just like a book
But you’re not especially well written
Not much of a plot, but all too well promoted
What you say about yourself is not novel
Not enough to write home about
I can read you like a book
But you’re not especially well written
I look at your cover but I try not to judge
What you say about yourself is not novel
Less epic than romance
Chapter by chapter you lose interest
What you say about yourself is not very novel
Not much of a plot, but all too well promoted
Less epic than romance
I can read you like a book
But you’re not very well written
Check In
Hotel share a room tonight
Tip the bellboy well
Let the bags, all of them, come up to you
Call for room service at twelve
Explore the city a bit before retiring
With matching robes and a mini-bar
The iron tomorrow wills save us
From wrinkled sheets tonight
San Francisco
In the wheel
I found myself in San Francisco
It’s in the Mechanics
Left to our own devices
Whose functions cannot handle
If senses only heighten
The toggles, knobs, and switches
And given our own vices
That fasten grip to handle
The tools we use just tighten
The screws and locks and hitches
It behooves us all to recall
That all machines work with ease
When cogs turn the wheels with grease
It behooves us to recall
Clunky Awkward
No fault of your own you’re clumsly
Blame your genes or friends or drinks
Every time you move with grace
The dis becomes your prefix
Perhaps you should slow it down a bit
And let others monitor your stance
Or take private lessons or something
In movement, manners, and speech
Elsewhere
Almost every day
I slip away
Thinking I’m elsewhere
With you
When I think I’m there
I imagine a time not now
But not far away
When you are mine
Not easily forgotten
The moment in my mind
(It’s) daily recalled
Jingle
A measured bar you must recall
A beat and thrum, a shower-hum
A cheating lick that takes and folds
A limerick point to keep and hold
Changes, grips, and manipulates
Angles and perspectives interchange
The way it sounds and feels
Say It Isn’t So
Unrest beneath the soul is dangerous
It festers, bubbles, and roils
And never lets you forget
The struggles for dreams it fails
An energy, vast, untapped mostly
Carries us forward all too quickly
While others fill the rules desired
And take the lesser limelight less
Her
Carefree I admit, but taken
By soul of you that makes me
Who I am, beside your glance
You own me by sight
And night takes us elsewhere
Apart for the hours
That brings us to morning
Which love grants us forward
A part of me for the nonce
Apart, forever’s need
To hold with special touch
And hope to never undo