Treehouse #2

My home had two tree-houses:
One my father made
The other we hid in the woods
Of branches that we laid.

At first it was a platform
Tied together with twine.
My brother and best friend used to climb
While on the ground I whined

When they left I used it
To climb that tree each day.
It was my favorite pastime
to feel that Cedar sway

My brother told me later
The reason he fears heights
Is the wind in lofty branches
Awaking some pretty strong frights


A Prayer

Dear God, I would ask of you
That nothing but the best
Be what my hands shall give to thee
And all whom you have blessed.

Dear Lord, who made the heavens high
And made the valleys low
I wish to bring you with me
Each avenue I go.

Dear Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Who made primordial stew,
I wish that I could worship you
With everything I do.

Divine all present holy one,
Whose name is kept unknown,
You are the center of my strength:
My firm foundation stone.

Lazy Lyricist’s Lament

I wish I had the breath control
To sing the songs I write.
I wish my voice could sing low
Yet clearly in a mic.

I wish my wide vibrato
Would narrow at the source.
Yes, I know it’s practice,
But that takes time, of course.

I wish that each new stanza
Would lose that sing song sound.
I want a pleasant melody
Not hopping on the ground.

I wish my fingers and my toes
Kept time with all these notes.
I feel the rhythm in my soul
But can’t read what I wrote.

Spiral (image version to follow)

Her mind is a spiral.
Her life is a dream.
Every fresh denial
Enlightens what she’s seen.
Each emerging trial
Endangers what she’s been.
All opposing actors
Confuse her state with mean.
They know not, dear viewers,
She cries ‘neath every scene.

Another Morning Song

Early in the morning
in the morning
oh so grey

When I should be a sleeping
When I should not be awake
When the last dream of the morning
shows what mood my day may make

Early in the morning
in the morning
oh so bleak

A Morbid Thought

These boards shall be my coffin.
This room shall be my tomb.
That’s why each time you come here
You sense impending doom.

That’s why, despite the evening,
There glows a faint white light
Which in my final hours
Shall guide me from the night.

This song shall cry my herald.
This home shall be my shrine
Where descendants find me
In the end of time.

Yes, here is where I’m resting,
So when you call on me
My spirit answers to your knock
But my heart dwells on in thee.

Strength (He#4?)

He is strong as anyone;
you see it in his face.
He won’t let his body fail.
He makes his pain erase.

He will let nobody know
How much he is hurting.
Everyday he has to slow
To stem the blood that’s spurting.

Why is it that Weakness comes
When one is seeking Strength?
Why does Sadness flood the tub
When one is pumping Joy?

His is

His is the light that brings unease.
His is the air that brings the wheeze.
His is the movement made to stop.
His is the pebble held aloft.
His is the measure never ends.
His is the path that rarely wends.
His is the dream of places stark.
His career is but a lark.
His is the babe that doesn’t laugh.
His is the limp lively as a calf.

He #3?

He is not my enemy,
But I cannot deny
The arrow I had given him
Has shot me in the eye.

He is not my ally,
But I trust him to attest
When we had converging goals
I always did my best.

He is not my solace,
But when I pray for peace
Among the world’s warriors,
He worries me the least.


It feels like there’s a sedative
Injected in my mind
That tells me now I have to wait
Until a later time.

So even when my consciousness
Wants to engage in struggle
I know that it would be remiss
To these sharp knives juggle.

I hope that I can handle it
When true awareness beckons.
For now I let myself be steered
As my body weakens.

Be patient, friends who ask of me
What I cannot remember,
It may take a moment to
Ignite that cooling ember.