Before You See the Movie, Read My Life

Beneath Our Dreams
Image by crystalandcats via Flickr

Read with gusto when you begin,

Tear back the covers and read all that is there,

From opening line to the end,

My life is worn and threadbare,

Discover how a bright beginning can turn sour,

Over and over as the pages are turned,

The bruises and cuts drained me of power,

Although they were earned and lessons were learned,

The moments when I held out a helping hand,

Times I rushed into love with a heart that was blind,

There are dips and turns that I still don’t understand,

As I looked for commitment that I never could find,

Yes, some pages are filled with relationships and dust,

But it’s all there, pages dog-eared and torn,

Years that were common but sprinkled with lust,

For when I was alone and forlorn,

There were no home fires left to burn,

No one left waiting alone in a bed,

In those moments I searched for a love to earn,

But the pages are empty and tear-stained instead,

When you read my life there are certain phrases,

As I talk about my occupation, my hobbies, and work,

You’ll notice I went through different phases,

Sometimes I was a knight and sometimes a jerk,

You’d have to read my poetry to learn more about me,

Because I’ve mellowed and changed with age,

I once said it would take tomes to explain what came to be,

And now on one microchip my life doesn’t fill one page,

But if one poem or one memory gives you a smile,

Then my life has somehow been worthwhile,

So read with gusto from the beginning to the end,

And look at my picture with my lopsided grin,

Most of my life was wasted on mistakes I made,

But there wasn’t much of life I’d care to trade,

My book is a book about hard knocks, you see,

It tells all you really need to know about me,

My pages are dog-eared and torn,

I’m not as new as the day I was born,

But I have things to add before my book is put away,

I’m still looking for someone to make my day,

Then I can close my book with a grin,

Knowing love finally came through at the end.











Don’t Ask

Rick Wakeman appearing at the Royal Albert Hal...
Image via Wikipedia

You ask me a

As you’re
just passing by,

But I don’t
want to answer you,

And you don’t bother asking why,

Your time is
limited, you’re going somewhere,

You asked
just to be polite,

The chance you
had to know more about me,

Was gone
when you walked out of sight,

Within me
there was an answer,

But it was
blocked by questions of my own,

What would
this do to our relationship,

If the truth
spills out,

If you find
my fears, my pain,

Would you
talk to be again,

Yes, I have
wants and needs,

And I’ll
listen to your deeds,

sometimes I want to know about you,

Tear down
your walls and share what’s inside,

Be authentic
and please don’t hide,

If you’re
only pretending to be my friend,

Then don’t
ask deep questions again,

Just say hi
and goodbye,

Smile a weak
smile and walk on by,

“How are you?” means you care too,

I’m ready if
you’re ready to share.

“The Man With the Iron Fists”

John Wayne / Gail Russell
Image by twm1340 via Flickr

A quiet sleepy
town somewhere out west,

Was being frightened
and overrun,

By some mean

So the city
council sent off a request,


“We need a
few men who will stand tall,

And save our
poor town,

From hellions
who’ve put us down,”

There was one
reply from out of them all,


It only
said, “A good fight I can’t resist,

I’m headin’
out today,

I’ll do
things my way,”

Signed, “The
Man With the Iron Fists,”


A few weeks later a stranger rode into town,

He was rough
around the collar,

Looking like
he had spent his last dollar,

He glanced at
me with a road-weary frown,


“Could you direct
me to a place with a bath?

I’m tired,
and I think I might stink,

I hope there’s
someplace to drink,

And then the
bad guys will feel my wrath,”


I looked at
him and I started to grin,

“You’re all
alone to save the day,

And make the
bad guys go away?

We were
expecting maybe nine or ten,”


“There are no others,” he said,

“I’m mean
and rough,

And you know
very tough,

varmints all took off and fled,”


“Excuse me,
sir, “I interrupted to say,

“That mean
hombre that’s on the run,

The one with
notches on his gun,

He’s not
coming here today?”


“I said what
I mean,” he spat to the side,

“I warned
them fair and square,

If they
stayed they’d be sucking air,

Anyone left
will have holes in his hide!”


“Uh, sir, I
know you’ve got true grit,

But even now
as we speak,

The man with
scars on his cheek,

He’s not the
kind to go hightailin’ it,”


“Listen son,
I don’t intend to be rude,

gunslingers know what’s best,

They know I’m
the scourge of the west,

So don’t
bother me, before I get crude,”


“One more
question, sir, if you don’t mind,

Did you see
my aunt Grace?

You were
checking out her lace,

Was there something you were hoping to find?”


Now this
hunk of a man got red in the face,

I knew he
was rough and tough,

But around
her he was a cream puff,

Because he
was already smitten with Aunt Grace,


“Go away,
son, and I’ll give you a dime,

scoundrels might be back,

around some shack,

And I don’t
want to waste my time,”


supper time tell Grace I’ll be there,

I’ve got to
check on those fellows,

Make sure
they’re still being yellow,

And tell her
to please let down her hair,”


Now Aunt Grace
is the town’s school teacher,

So through
windows and curtains,

was watching and certain,

That it was
gittin’ time to call the preacher,


Later I confided to them that Grace had been

The town
decided with that out of the way,

The marriage
should happen the next day,

Grace and the man with iron fists,


The ceremony
went well, including the I Do’s,

The bad guys
stayed away,

They arrived
another day,

But that’s another
story, Part Two.









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