Thursday, March 29, 2007

The Face of Innocence

what do baby's dream about?
is it the face of God
or the warmth of a mothers touch
are they playing with the angels
do they see the world as new
or are they eyes of old
how peaceful and quiet
a beauty that can not be matched
is that of a baby safe and asleep
in their mothers arms
their precious little eyes moving
yet fast asleep
the smiles and grins
that touch your soul
cooing and giggles
that make you smile
and warm your heart
they are little people
full of life yet to live
hold them and love them
for they are only little
for just a while
what do you dream about?
i have forgotten
where the angels play
but i catch glimpses
in my children's faces
when they sleep

Sunday, March 18, 2007

I dance with the Devil

i dance with the Devil
all my life he has called me
a hunger draws me to him
its not weakness as u may think
i go to fight him
his touch is of the sun
his breath toxic and choking
his eyes glow bright and majestic
haunting and beautiful
but make no mistake
He plays for keeps
this is a dance of eternal measure
where lives hang in the balance
and one wrong step means death
and not only for me
yes i have fear
to not would be a mistake
but to use the fear as a compass
to know how far to go
i don't fight alone
i bring many brave men
who also love the dance
we dress in an armor if sorts
and wield a weapon of water
to slay the beast in your homes
and places of work
all hours of the day and night
i wait for the call
to save life and property
of my fellow neighbor
i stare into the eyes of the Devil
but his hand i will never hold
when we dance...

Saturday, March 17, 2007


Its late and i cant sleep
weary from the day
long waves of light
fill the room soft and blue
washing my skin in their glow
lost is my mind
wandering through years of life
where i have been
roads i have walked
mountains i have climbed
love i have made
friends lost
did i mention love i have made?
sleep finally calls...

Cold Spring Morning

Snow falls softly on the grass
clean is the world
all is quiet at ten after five
the world is still asleep at this hour
darkness covers me
the bitter cold
digging its claws into my skin
why is the sun so late
forward is the time in spring
Phil must have had a hangover
for warmth is not yet here
yet the warm naked body still in my bed
beckons me to return
her skin soft and warm
the smell of her hair sweet as a flower
for pete's sake dog just go...