Golden Strands of Evidence

We are captives of the past
We can’t rely on the future
These times are demanding change
Reinventing reality is the task at-hand
Confused by the present order of things?

No coin in a fountain is a remedy
Actions must mirror our words
Abnormal behaviors poison the broth
Radical pretense is food for thought
Reprehensible acts of uncontained passion
holding a gun to our head

It’s a difficult problem we face
so what’s new?
Why not try to right the wrongs
within our range of power?

Sing-a-Song Beat

Live a lot ‘n Love a lot
Live a lot ‘n Love a lot
Give it all you got

You can’t blame a gal for tryin’
to lay claim to one’s sanity
when the past comes a-callin’
layin’ blame on uncertainty

The present finds me contented
with love aplenty & then some to spare
showering gratitude far & wide

I Want, I Need, I Bleed

I’ve got a lot of spunk for a shy girl
making my way in & thru this wild world
feeding on vermin & roast pork lo mein

Standing in the shadows of better men
prodding my mind to speak
considering interactions judiciously
& spilling my guts incautiously
hoping to be understood
by as many as will hear my words
as I sit exposed & half-crazy
lovin’ every minute of it
for all it’s worth to you

Don’t deny me a voice
studying the universal plea
as I walk with uncertain steps
to where the sky’s the limit

The past has taught us well:
To look to the future
for answers to our survival in the present

When Wrong Was Right

I sighted a balding eagle
high above the trees
Came to a body of fact
quite accidentally
a black cat crossed my path
Where did I go so wrong
atop The Misty Mountain

I did the math
calculating conclusions
always landing on my feet
even in defeat
solutions falling short
of destinations on a map
tracking the wildebeest
to its caged domain

Longitude & latitude be damned
for I’m a peaceful man
driven by the past
while guided by the future

We May Say in Chorus, “Why Me?”

The man who can’t be killed
opts for a natural death

Once opened,
the door to this line of questioning is open for good,
to someone sitting in the witness box
swearing to the truth

I’ve got a burden on my back
looking toward the future, an eager beaver
with a cat’s-eye view of the past
feverish with the power of free thought

History has gone so wrong
needing a band-aid to plug the dam

What Price Self-Sacrifice

Two can be fed
for the price of one pen
implementing a plan
on which to stand ready

Disobedient to oneself
brandishing a sword of self-destruction
severing ties to the past
that may or may not matter
my future to be decided
before the eternal grave comes to call
from the point of no return
and I cross-over
whistling Dixie