False Profit

We work most of our days

for a false profit. The richness

we seek will surely leave us

weak. Day in and day out,

we lose ourselves in the vast

shadow that society casts.

We chase paper that means

nothing in the end. We search

for happiness that only exists

inside of our hearts. We yearn

for love, but find ourselves

lost inside of price and cost.

Every day, we feel empty due

to the temptation of possessions.

We tend to value things that have

a price tag, which leaves us stuck

inside a self-made cage. Numbers

become more important than words.

We love to eat chicken, but we don’t

consider the journey of the birds.

Before we know it, our lives will be

nothing more than repetitive steps

that drags us down to the deepest

of depths. One day, you and I will

be memories of the past. Let’s hope

we can burn all of our cash before

both feet touch the ground on

the other side of the door. More,

more, more is what we want, and

loneliness is what we get. We must

not work for a false profit. No amount

of cash will make our happiness last.

Gray Days

Some days are gray days.
Dark clouds. Heavy rain.
No umbrella can help
us stay dry. Some days,
gray days fade to blue.
Most days, raindrops fall
turning seeds into trees.
Some days, the breeze
reminds us of the cold
world we occupy. We try
to get through the gray
days. On the worst days,
we find ways to follow
the light that pierces
the darkness. We have
seen many gray days.
We know it to be tough
when smooth becomes
rough. We know that
life has its ups, downs,
and roundabouts. Life
is full of green grass,
blue skies, gray days
and we are full of life.
Look past the haze;
do not let gray days
take the sunshine away.

One Left

At the start, there were many
just like me: a town full of us.
Now, my heart stays empty.
A store once stood where I
am standing. A church, once
alive, has been laid to rest.
A school that once thrived
is now a page in the history
books. A hospital that once
stood strong is long gone.
Many fled the tiny town,
and some stayed to face
the inevitable destruction
coming their way. Lives
were lost in the small war.
All I could do was watch
as fire surrounded, leaving
me stranded. Many years
later, there is only one left.
I am the man who made it.
I survived life’s greatest
test, and I see the world
for what it is. I am blessed
to be the only one left.

The Escape Artist

I slide through a window.
Dropping two stories to
the ground. I run around
trying to find a place
to escape. I am gone;
I am free from the past
and the shadow it casts.
I run down the street
with the toughest feet.
Barefoot and confused:
the moon is my muse.
I was free – a simple sign
To escape again. I escape
to find the perfect rhyme –
words that define my life.

Table for Two

The tables were empty. Each table had chairs.
The chairs were empty. The room was filled
with all but life. On this night, tables and chairs
were patiently waiting to be used by someone –
anyone. The day came where a table was used,
supported. The day came when I looked around
and saw you. Our eyes met and never left.
I tried not to stare. I walked to a table, with two
empty chairs, near you. We were alone together:
inside the same room. I walked to you despite
my fear of failing. I remember this moment
year after year. That night we met became
the first time we sat down at a table for two.