A Song for the Two Lovely Ladies

Sitting at a high table,
Just finishing up a soda or two,
Was a group of three people;
A father and his two daughters.
That particular night, just so
Happened to be karaoke night
At the Thirsty Moose.

A man with white hair,
A shaved face and a collared shirt,
Came up to the book to choose
A song to sing.
After delicately flipping through
Multiple pages, a song popped out.

The song was called "Puff the Magic Dragon".

Before the man began to sing,
He said, "I'd like to sing this song for
The two lovely ladies over here,"
As he pointed to the girls and started singing:

"Puff the magic dragon, lived by the sea..."

An Inspiration

One day with improving effort,
America can change lives
From uncertainty to a solution.
The time is now to improve
Your imaginary road.
Take the growing end of life;
I'm in.
Stay Golden.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Lonely days go by, wondering in my

Head, where is that toy, I thought it was here.

Soon time fades away as I proceed

With the search of my beloved toy;

A 1998 Hees Truck to be exact.

Over a period of days, the thought

Soon races out of my mind.

Nowhere to be found, I give up.

In my mind waving a little

White flag,

Like in the cartoons.

Long since the lonesome desperate search,

Many years sprint past my eyes.

Finally, I stumbled across a bin,

Filled with glorious toys.

There at the bottom

Was my truck!

As I lay my eyes on the flickering lights,

Powered by batteries that have

Since been replaced.

As I stand there, toy in hand

My mind takes me back

Once again feeling

Like a child.

Random Word Poem

Taping a memory in one's mind,
Hoping that one day a voice will be heard.
A voice that can take the initiative when needed.
This voice would have the ablility to promise to never lose hope.

A world with peace,
A world without hunger,
Without racism and violence.
Such a world could create a union,
A union between mistakes and what is wrong.

Angles of one's perspective could unite as one,
Forming a key to a whole new realm.
Every ounce of a living lifeform devoting itself
To help others, and along the way its own person.

The gravitational pull of ones thoughts is
Much stronger that that of ones doubt.
Weaving in and out of multiple situations,
Eventually making its way to the gate,
One has found eternal peace.

GREED...

Greed is like a toy gun, fake, but realalistic.
Greed sometimes poisons your mind,
It dishes out bad influences.

Greed can be, at times, a time bomb ticking away,
Unsure of when it will overcome you.
Greed is a dictator, controlling your every move.

Greed will consume you, devoure you and all in its path.
Soon realizing you can't escape its grasp,
Wanting and wanting more, but more is never enough.

BOOM! The trigger is pulled only to find
Greed popping out of the barrel of the gun, on a sign that reads bang,
Ready to strike again at any given moment.

At the Mercy of Destruction

As the hand wielding the pains of the past
Comes down again: SMACK!
Twice more: SMACK! SMACK!
Right down on the back of a helpless child,
It's just another day gone by.

In the eyes of a child,
Fear glistens as another tear trickles down
Her red, swollen face.
The face knows pain:
Knows the drunken rage of her father,
Knows the whip of a belt against her bruised skin.

As she grows older,
She loses the will to go on,
For the beating never stops.
Pain fills her calendar:
Yesterday's still lingers throughout her body,
At times, immobilizing her.

Today is still new:
Thoughts of depression clouds her mind.
The only thing in her future are more beatings,
More pain to linger in her body
From the previous day to the next.

As she grows older,
She loses the sense of love,
Having no parental figures.
Afraid to fall head over heals fore someone,
Her head clogged with past pains,
Not allowing it to heal, not allowing to forgive and forget.

For they might make the desolate hole in her heart
Even darker, even deeper.

As she grows older,
She knows her final days will come;
Bruises lift off her body;
Life as she knows it, is becoming a distant memory.
Soon, she will be resting in peace.

Anit-Cliche Poem

A baby's jingling laughter tickles my ears.

Seconds later, the laughter becomes a lullaby:

Soft, soothing, and smooth.

Slowly, the laughter comes to a stop,

And a quiet snore soon takes its place.

A few hiccups then find their way out.

The baby tosses and turns in its crib,

As a warm thought fills his hear and mind.

Now, lying there motionless,

All nightmares cease to exist.

The little infant floats away on a dream cloud,

Ever so light, ever so fluffy.

He snuggles his head inside his blanket,

Ready for an adventure.