Wednesday, January 28, 1998


The sun, the breeze,
The flowers, the trees;
I love such things,
And the bird sings.
Outside, among the world;
Stones into the water I have hurled.
Picnics, games, and poetry
Not quite the Grand Ol’ Op’ry.
Bugs, and flies
(Of the butter varieties),
The sound of music over the hills.
Here are present no worries, no fears, and no pills.
The air so cool, the air so still;
And something’s not just right, oh hell!
I open my eyes
And to my surprise,
A parking lot, with, you know,
Cars, trucks, vans, and, oh!
Horses, too! They stamp and they paw.
I ask aloud: "against the law?"
I think of her, and she of me.
An excellent pair are we.
She sits above;
It is she that I love.
Oh no! I’m almost out of lead,
Oh dre...

Wednesday, January 14, 1998

"How Much Must I Cry"

How much must I cry...
Before my eyes run dry?
I do not know,
For they’re not yet. Oh, woe!

How much must I cry...
As I listen in class try?
I do not know.
Oh me, she is my woe.

You break my heart,
You tear us apart,
Limb from limb,
And hand and foot.

I am torn between
A girl, a princess, and a queen.
What do I now do?
Why does the owl chirp, “Who?”

How much must I cry...
Many times I have cried;
They’re not yet dry,
but our relationship, it has...died.

"Ode To Midnight"

So crisp, so cold is the night air,
So much joy, hope, and wonder.
Whether cloud covered or cloudless night,
The stars shine true, shine bright.
Midnight is the time when all things occur.
Midnight is the time when few things stir.
‘Tis not morn, nor eve,
Yet both do we conceive.
Not much sound, ‘tis not quiet;
Everything sleeps: I don’t buy it.
I am not sleeping, I cannot dream
But write this of the conscience stream.
Oh glorious night, I feel thee ‘round me!
Oh glorious night, I need thee to comfort me!
All evils must be banish-ed;
‘Tis not their time, not now, not yet.
Am I poet or am I author?
Not I know it. Oh what a bother!
The white snow falls,
The howling wind calls.
The stones are cold, the crickets sleep.
Oh I wish the clouds would weep.
Over the fence, I hear chimes,
And dogs, and wondrous times.
Then I remember, if only ‘t were true,
‘Tis midnight, with moon so blue.
I am not worried, frightened, or even scared.
I have gone where no man hath dared.
Off in the distance, lies the fair city,
Oh so busy on such a night, ‘tis a pity.
The cold grips me, yet I do not surrender.
I have warmth from the Light of the World or –
Nevermind! The cold doth win
And back I go, away, back in.
Perhaps, when I again meet the night,
The stars everywhere will shine as bright!