Through The Cracked Window (Revisited)
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Answers known all along
But we all fall down
Yet never the wiser than before
If you fall I will meet you on the ground
Swallow me under
Pull me apart, again
I am trying to forget
A song I once sang
Sing in whispers
No one can hear
I will make the notes
Only you can hear
Stoic Poetry
Some days are Monday’s
No matter the given day
Hard to start, hard to finish
When nothing goes your way
Others you can glide through
Everything goes just right
Everyday cannot be perfect
Trying as hard as you might
Stoic Poetry
Parallel Worlds
In one you are brilliant
But only a shadow here
In one you are perfect
Yet not even close here
One is your humanity
With nothing to fear
Here you have questions
Born of endless fear
One day you’ll return
To all you hold dear
But for now you stay
And do the best my dear
Stoic Poetry
Written by my lovely wife Maggie.
The lonely bird with broken wings
So sweet its song, so sad his eyes
I wish I could guide him
To the heavenly fields
To put his soul to sleep
Maggie
They say silence grows like a cancer
Maybe silence is the cure
Too many words and still no answer
Everyone is so unsure
Speaking before a decent thought
Action without concern
Always dealing with consequences
To habits we return.
When in the naked light we see
We are all the same
Bound and struggling to be free
Instead of laying blame
Stoic Poetry
When life is too cluttered
We forget to live it
When we struggle against it
We tend to miss it
Something we react to
When we need it to flow
Living is the prize
Some may never know
Stoic Poetry
Twilight’s shadows consume my thoughts
reapers glove clutching daylight to suffocation.
Sleep remains elusive, in waking dreams
obsessive images loop unfettered.
Fertile soil of ancient memories
spawn demons of my past realms.
Yesterday storming today’s bastions of sanity
manufactured reality expired; obsolete.
Gatekeeper guard the boundaries of my soul
fist-falls of desperation resounding, pounding.
Claw the erected walls upward
crumbled reality, a pinhole of dawns light.
Relinquish now the reapers grasp
I breathe another day, as demons wait for dusk.
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 