Dead Ends

The rubber met the road. The pedal hit the metal.
Raindrops filled the kettle. The explorer did not settle.
The peasant earns Shekels. Many faces wear frowns.
Some attendees heckled. The rubber met the road.
The host ended the show. Robots speak morse code.
Frogs claim to be toads. The snakes in the grass
slither fast as the blades cut and the blinds shut.
In life, follow your sight and do what is right.
Trust your gut. Pretend that you did not just hit
a dead end. Go spend time before time spends
you. It is time to lose the shoes and move out
of the way of the kicking boot. I mean, shoot.
Time to turn around. We are not quite ready
to sing the blues, read the news, or face
the fact that we must pay off our debt.
Just turn around and you will be free: set.









The Key

There are gatekeepers
that hold the key
to the kingdom –
the key to success.
They hold the key.
There are street sweepers
that hold guns and cuffs.
They hold the key.
There is a grim reaper
among the living.
He holds the key
to the afterlife.
With him, it’s on sight.
There are timekeepers
watching from the other
side. There are spirits
that know when to hide.
They hold the key
to the somber skies.
There are old leaders
driving imported cars.
They hold the key.
There are people
like you and me.
We, too, hold the key
that will, one day,
set our souls free.

Time to Shine

It’s time to shine. Dry those eyes.
Move into the night. Dance as
you watch the sun rise. Seize
the day. Enjoy each passing
moment. Breath: it will be okay.
Exist. Live without trying. Smile
after crying. Push yourself to be
the light that fights the dark.
Don’t be a dog that won’t bark.
Don’t be a fish. Be a shark
that tears negativity apart.
When every candle blows out,
and each light turns off, be
the light that guides others.
It’s our time to shine. Time
to write the end of this line.

Fade to Gray

Time continues to slip
through my gentle grip.
The clothes on my back
continue to get ripped.
My words get flipped.
Blue skies open wide
bringing those who hide
out into the holy light.
Blue skies seem to fade
to gray when the sun
goes away. I don’t mind
doing a little dance
under the thunder.
Days fade to gray
as rain drops drip
onto a vacant crypt.
All colors eventually
fade to gray. Evidently,
some shade is man-made.






Rope Burns

As life gets heavier,
my grip naturally tightens.
I am playing tug of war,
and on the other side
of the rope is the fear
that I lose all hope.
I am always trying
to stay grounded when
my mind is flying.
I am trying to live
instead of thinking
of death or dying.
When I try to pull,
I feel that the hole
in my soul becomes
filled: almost full.
In this life, I tug, tug,
and tug. I attempt to
stand on top of a rug
that is being pulled
from under me. See,
these rope burns
come easy. I won’t
slip or lose my grip
until the sweet taste
of victory drips off
of my quivering lips.