In the End

Life, as we know it, fades
away. Those we come to
know and love becomes
memories. I once heard:
“The only thing that is
constant is change.”
Each day is not the same.
In the end, death can
cash a check life can’t.
We can’t take back time,
but others can draw
a line from our birth to
our death when the sun
decides to set. In the end,
just pretend you watched
a really cool documentary
that was shot from your
eyes. As the credits roll,
smile, laugh, cry, shout
because, in the end,
that is what life’s about.

Bones

My bones have grown
strong. Although not
shown, these bones
hold me together.
They make me feel
alive and well. Me:
my bones can’t be
rehomed. Bones
can break, shatter,
and weaken as life
does its job. Bones
come into play
every day when
we say, “I have a
bone to pick with
you” or “You are bad
to the bone” or
Break a leg!” Later,
my bones will be
brittle, and it will
be hard to see.
Until then, I will
roam for as long
that I am strong.

Better Off

Your heavy, calicoed hands
stay balled up. Never open
to another’s. Your lifeless
arms always stay crossed
looking like you just lost.
Your patience went astray,
yet the frustration stayed.
The time I’ve been away
has shown me a new life
consisting of better days.
In many ways, I’m better
off not finding the things
that forever remain lost.

Ruins

Many years ago, there were cities, statues, cathedrals, pyramids,
and buildings made of bamboo, sand, clay, plaster, cobblestone,
blood, sweat, and tears. Lives were lost at the cost of these
creations. Not one worker knew the magnitude nor the attitude
that followed their construction. Even after their destruction,
they stood the test of time. Time has passed, yet the history lasts.
The Great Pyramid of Giza, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon,
the Statue of Zeus, the Colossus of Rhodes, the Lighthouse
of Alexandria, the Temple of Artemis, and the Mausoleum
of Halicarnassus tell us a story: a tragic story of life and death
and how they finally met. Now, what we have has been ruined
to no one’s fault. What is left is a gift from those before us.
We must appreciate old ruins before they all turn to dust.

Step-Poet

These words aren’t mine. Well, the configuration,
the arrangement, and the manifestation of them
are mine to tell, yell, or sell. The rest falls on me.
I own nothing. I just borrow letters and words
that were said, used, or abused in old worlds.
I rent these words – these phrases: these upper
and lower cases. I use these words. They don’t
go to waste. These words help me save face.
They can tell you things that my mouth won’t.
I will never dishonor these words as they are
sacred to me. They provide light: the insight
that does me right. Like eyes that envision
better days, these sentences help me create
early mornings and dark nights running late.
These words aren’t mine, but I treat them
like they are. They carry me through the day
when I don’t have anything to say. Anyway,
I use these words to tell you to stay true
to yourself and to never forget about things
that will help you through all of the pain.