Lights.

Lamps, torches, flashlights,

40 watts, 60, 75,

illuminate the way for the eyes,

but, what about the unseen?

The hidden even a floodlight can’t reveal.

That particular brightness comes from somewhere else,no filament, glass or electricity needed. Instead,

a kind heart to be heeded.

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Eight Hundred Thousand and Two

Grains of sand in my shoe?

Grains of salt on my food?

Grains of rice in my bowl?

I don’t have a clue,

and let’s face it, neither do you.

It doesn’t matter in the least,

as long as my coffee tastes sweet.

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Money is Never Free

Money is never free,

chasing it comes with a cost,

is what you gain, worth what you’ve lost?

The missed date,

daughter’s recital,

you were too late,

son’s soccer game,

you were on a plane.

You worry yourself ill,

closing the next deal,

step back and ask,

am I allowing my cash desires to ruin precious time with others?

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And Then What?

You were born and then what?

You learned to crawl and then what?

You learned to say “mama” and “dada” and then what?

You took your first steps and then what?

It was the first day of school and then what?

It was the last day of school and then what?

You met the person of your dreams and then what?

You started a family and then what?

You started your career and worked until you retired and then what?

The kids moved out and then what?

You and your partner spend time maintaining the lawn and then what?

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Clock Hands

The clock hands wave to the past on their way to high-five the future,

stopping to shake hands with the six and the three.

They can’t stay but a second, because they’ve got somewhere else to be.

“Idle hands are the devil’s playthings” they must have been taught,

I say pull out the battery and let’s talk.

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Dangerous Theater

Chests are puffed out,

spines stand straighter,

threats are spewed

in this dangerous theater.

The brat fakes throwing a stone,

to intimidate another,

keeping others off guard

in this dangerous theater.

And, the play continues,

since the days of Mesopotamia,

the brat has no issue with spilling blood

all over this dangerous theater.

Bombs bullets and pain,

triggered by a brat’s signature,

spell the death of so many

in this dangerous theater.

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Everyone Deserves Their Moment in the Sun, Son.

Everyone Deserves Their Moment in the Sun, Son.

The Bible says don’t light your candle and hide it,

but, that doesn’t mean you should brag,

like when you twist someone else’s posts to make it be about you, hashtag.

Ego is thinly veiled,

and hard to disguise, you see,

you’re about to bust a gut,

because I want it all to be about me!

Someone posts a pic of their vacay,

you reply, “I’ve been there, let me tell you where I stayed.

Someone checks in and says, “this restaurant is nice.”

You reply, “I know, I’ve been there twice.”

Everyone deserves their moment in the sun, son,

just let them be.

Stop trying to turn everyone else’s posts into something about thee.

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Sometimes the Sky Rains Frogs

Sometimes the sky rains frogs,

and sometimes you need to sleep,

26% of the universe is dark matter,

yet, no one has even seen it.

Bumblebees shouldn’t be able to fly,

say the experts in science and aviation,

apparently, the bees never bothered asking for permission.

There’s a compartment in our brains that crave mystery and magic,

Without these components, our lives would be tragic.

We need that escape,

that’s why we love movies about people in capes,

and love stories and spies,

all the things we don’t experience in our everyday lives.

That compartment I mentioned earlier,

the one in your brain?

It gets smaller with age.

Not because of anything physical,

as you grow older, you’re told to be practical.

Time to act like an adult and climb those rings,

to the top of the work and/or family ladder.

If you don’t, people will ask “what’s a matter?”

But, we still want that fantasy,

that’s what made J.K. Rowling rich, you see?

Well, the bumblebee still flies,

and sometimes frogs fall from the sky.

I think it’s great to be surprised.

We are never going to have all the answers,

and would you want them anyway?

How boring would that be?

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Baby it’s Cold Outside, Or is it Us?

Baby, It’s Cold Outside, or is it Us?

Baby, It’s Cold Outside,

Yes, it is, I agree,

People have blocks of ice, where their brains used to be.

People claim to be offended,

By a song that was popular before D-Day ended,

That’s right, 1944, when the average house cost,

Three thousand, four hundred dollars,

Makes me want to holler.

This all began because one listener complained,

To a radio station called WDOK.

It just goes to prove that during our lives today,

We have too much time on our hands, yeah, you heard me say.

There are hands on a clock, but our hands are holding a little block.

Our eyes stay transfixed while our brains allow themselves to be tricked,

Into discussion and raging about meaningless crap,

It’s a trap.

Don’t be a sap.

Wake up from your nap.

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