A pebble in the ocean

(with inspiration from Michael J. Fox)

Plip!
And there it goes again.
With a polite gesture to a stranger
Or a kind word for a friend.
One pebble of hope is placed
In an ocean of disbelief.
But then again, a single coral was all it took
To begin to build the Barrier Reef.
So I make my wish and cast my stone
Into the dark and deep.
And pray I'm not all alone
With the hope of a promise to keep.
This hope is why we love thy neighbor.
It's why we do anything.
An act of faith, looking forward
On what tomorrow may bring.
No single one of us truly knows
Which pebble causes the wave to crest
But we give a little every day
And try our very best.
It's why we're here- without a doubt.
Belief that opinion made fact.
Love for our Lord above and a promise of hope.
It is faith and its final act.
Culminating in a tidal wave,
A natural cresting force of emotion.
That washes over all mankind
And starts from a simple pebble in the ocean.
Plip.

Graduation '93

Change is a constant force
that happens every day.
From those of us who've just arrived,
to those that fade away.
In our lives- and only once
will there come a certain time:
The day that will change our worlds
and for which I've composed this rhyme.
When that fateful day comes,
there will be a few
Who will try to fight this change
and we will have to say, "Adieu."
For life will not wait,
change will not delay.
Time will pass those by
who attempt to stay.
While the rest of us walk on
and life begins anew.
As we face good times and tragedies
and problems as they brew.
From the well of wisdom, we'll look back
-far back upon today.
Wondering how we made it through
-ever living through the fray.
Until that future day arrives,
we must patiently wait.
For now, let us rejoice in why we are here:
Let us graduate.

I paint the sink

They say I'm not the man I was
And this is said with ne'er a blink.
I did not settle- but no man does.
Here, I paint the sink.
I dry wash the drywall in the morning.
I try this while drinking toast.
And then I set about adorning
The walls with portraits of a ghost.
They say I've gone from bad to worse,
That I'm standing on the brink.
Damning my blessings with a curse.
All the while, I smile and paint the sink.
I disengage the plumbing
And stop to smell the rain.
I relax because the work is numbing
Only half of my brain.
They say I must come back to them
But that is not what they truly think.
Rather, to disconnect the brain stem
That let's me paint the sink.
When they come to visit and sit,
Most just look around and frown.
No furniture?!--They almost shit
...Ah! But the plumbing is shut down.
They say I have lost my gourd
And I smile with a nod and a wink.
----For my armor has no chink.
In this lowly castle, the last is lord
And here, I paint the sink.
Without furnishing, they all are floored
For it is I who paints the sink.

Residents of Jericho

Those who believe in romance
have passed on or moved away.
Everybody speaks without being heard
'cause there's nothing left for us to say.
The last shining knight laid down his sword,
left his post an empty grave.
The silence around here is so absurd
and so loud it breaks his heart.
Love broken by not a word,
dreams and memories torn apart.
A voice in the wilderness cries out to us
but we're busy and so pay it no heed.
We're so into our own selves that
we can't see others in need.
And we complain of how it all went wrong
without seeing our own damn greed.
These are the walls in Jericho where we reside.
These tall walls in Jericho can't help us hide.
Built around our hearts and souls by greed and foolish pride.
And they won't be tumbled down.

The poets have since put down their pens,
picked up their homes and moved on.
Wishing they could return again
and write about a glorious dawn.
Where we are seen once more dreaming
and all the walls are gone.
These walls in Jericho that block us from the Son.
The stupide walls in Jericho surrounding everyone.
Sometimes I wish I had the strength myself
to knock them down and let you in.
So we can believe in love again.

The bells of salvation

I could hear the bells of salvation,
ringing in my ears.
Then, Jesus came to me
on a great, white stallion.
Finally, Guido brought me my lunch.
Boy was I hungry.

Grandma

I always made sure I held her hand, Whenever we crossed the street.
She'd buy me ice cream from the ice cream man. ...I always thought that was neat.
She had dinner with us on Sunday. I stayed at her house through the summer.
She was the greatest of grandmas and man, I sure did love her.
And she said Grandpa was my guardian angel
And he was watchin' over me.
She talked to him when she would pray at night.
She said I was their favorite memory.
She was with me through my growing years. And at my graduation.
She chipped in to buy me a car For the grand occassion.
And I drove her to the beach that summer, So that she could see the ocean.
I said I bet Grandpa would've loved that. As she smiled to her grandson,
She said Grandpa was my guardian angel.
He was always with me.
And I could talk to him when I would pray at night.
Oh, we had such great memories.
She was laid to rest beside him. Last year, in the spring.
And I couldn't help but cry, When the choir began to sing.
I talk to her in prayer And send her all my love.
'Cause I know she and Grandpa are up there, Watchin' from above.
Yeah, now I've two guardian angels
Who are watchin' over me.
I feel their love when I lay down at night
And I'll always keep her in my memories.
Yeah, I'll always keep her in my memories.

Buh...buh...buh

Being enigmatic isn't very pragmatic
But the oddity in itself is a little fun
Bringing a trace of question on a face
By what you've said, worn, or done
Belies the mischevious, rebellious heart
Beneath that calm and common visere
Budding with a mind unlike any kind
Brilliance rarely found around here
But before you go showing
Benevolence to the throng
Before you even begin to show knowing
Believe the rest of them all are wrong
Begin with a vacant thought
Bordering on no thought at all
Braid in a bead of uncertainty
By slowing the process to a crawl
Beckon answers to questions unheard
Brave the learned's stern looks
Battle the incessant prattle
Barter with the starter of the books
Be prepared for exasperation
Blank faces that don't understand
Bribe them with an education
Blocked by ignorance and banned
Band together as a group
Be of like mind and show
Borrowers nor lenders be
Because both have something to owe
Bone up on your studies
Bed down and get your rest
Brilliance is the water that never muddies
But is always put to the test
Believe you can accomplish anything
Because anything can truly be done
By the writer who reached a little higher
But still had lots of fun

Incarnate

In a dream of eldritch fire
By an id Across the sea
Clammy hands of desire
Conform to calamity
I swam in delicatessens and angels
I frothed On hard knock shores
Toured nine circled hells
Weathered threefold wars
Came back A pompous blind man
Lectured like Socrates
Died a Doric also-ran
Morals around my knees
Fared better In boomtown
Drank from chaliced gourd
Defamed for defrocking royalty's crown
By waking with the whored
I slept In fit Dis-eased attire
I catered to no one domain
I dremt about a fire
Swam and sank in vain

And I

, in as much as I fear death,climb the stairs with bated breath.
My goal- the shawl for my grandmother's shoulders
which sits upon her bedpost as she grows colder.
And I delay- not to play with Elizabeth
-but in fear of what draws near as she becomes ever so much older.

, in my masculine procrastination,
fumble and stumble with each chill sensation.
For what waits for me in that room
plays with the praise of impending doom.
And I falter with fear and trepidation,
crossing the threshold into creeping gloom.

, taken aback by the scent of flower,
find no form of conviction or power.
Merely the item which I seek
surrounded by a room best described as antique.
And I have no time to marvel, for I know the hour
lying far beyond the picture that forces my orbs to leak.

, in a fluster to flee that photograph,
rush downstairs to her chair and carafe.
Where I pour for her juice, so orange and so sunny,
it reminds her of the faces I made that were funny.
And I dwell on the thought of a coming epitaph
while listening to the history of my dear Grandma Bunny.