Monday, January 31, 2011


I can still see that little music room
with steps cascading down like falling notes,
adorned with anxious kids that longed to boom
their joyous song from prepubescent throats,
and I can hear that bright piano ring
compelling us to always keep it fun—
if blessed, we meet someone that makes us sing
for me Mrs. Lazarou was the one.
She always seemed to see in me a truth
I couldn’t see, and pushed me hard because
she hoped I’d gain momentum from the shove,
I still feel as confused as in my youth
but know just how instrumental she was
instructing me on what it means to love.

***I just read in the paper today that my elementary school music teacher was recently honored. I can't begin to tell you how this woman shaped my early concept of art and self expression. I tried to link to it but you need to pay, but it is the top story right now at so check it out :)***

Friday, January 28, 2011

Seven New Stars

This country has always
proved in the past
that heroes don't die
their selfless deeds last
in our minds and in our hearts.

Some unknown bravery
guided their souls,
perhaps the hope of freedom
gracing the world—
we'll never know, God bless them all.

There are seven new stars
shining in the night,
feel their proud fire
burning hot and bright.
We loved them so, please God, bless them all.

***25 years today - RIP***

Wednesday, January 26, 2011


The problem with living by rote
is being unable to note
when focus wanes
or when the reins
are snatched by ills we’ve smote.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011


It’s sad when power steering steals the power of our grasp
and lies we’re engineering have perverted what we clasp
beware when escalators undermine the urge to climb
our reign as devastators will have finally reached its time.

Friday, January 21, 2011


There are those I patronize
and those I give the business to
and those with whom I sympathize
(though honestly they’re very few)
throughout the endless compromise
I’ve always labored to be true
so why does fortune fractionize
the share that others say I’m due?

Thursday, January 20, 2011


How can people do the things they do to one another?
Why would someone sentient decide to calmly smother
any shred of empathy existing in their being
to perpetrate atrocities some lunacy is freeing,
extinguishing with prejudice the innocence conceived
before the crumbled towers left our consciousness bereaved?
I think about these troubled souls and find my conscience torn
between the need to see them dead, and to justly mourn
the heinous ruination of another human brother,
is that how people do the things they do to one another?

***I wrote the first half of this in April 2007 after some other horrible public massacre and have been inspired by recent events to revisit it, I was going to just bump it and add my revisions but decided to leave it there and repost as a new one. Who can say why someone would do what that murderer did in AZ but hopefully through Congresswoman Giffords and the other survivors this story will be about the courage and determination of the human spirit and not the insanity that started it all.***

Wednesday, January 19, 2011


When judgment is evicted
and ills are self-inflicted
we often try to blame another source;
if no one is convicted
our search must be restricted
to why we like to cause our own remorse.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

Straw or Gold?

Consultants aren’t the people who
enable gains to soar
that vital task is handed to
the ones that you keep poor

they’re forced to work around the fools
you keep parading through
that brag about their former schools
but never seem to do

a single thing to help the team
that’s truly worth a damn
while you surrender gobs and beam
deluded by the scam.

Remember when you count your stacks
you’re ever in the debt
of those with tired aching backs
awash in honest sweat

and the lower that you make them feel
the quicker they’ll find a way
to handicap your spinning wheel
and really make you pay.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011


Egos are

***In Honor of 1/11/11***

Wednesday, January 05, 2011


The things to which we cling
aren’t always made of gold
it’s the memories they bring
that we reverently hold.

Some old and rusty scrap
could be worth a pirate’s hoard
if it rested in the lap
of someone you adored,

a poignant piece of song
or a long forgotten smell
can keep your spirit strong
with a love that won’t dispel.

They’re part of who we are
(like power to a king)
both noble and bizarre
the things to which we cling.

Tuesday, January 04, 2011


A day blinks into a week
blurs into a year
becoming a life,
an instantaneous instance
of serenity and strife;
an unrelenting
unexplained delight,
where we dawdle on
through darkness
with a brand that’s seldom bright
until we know the night.