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Each time I fall flat on my face,
I pull myself up and I try
to get back into the race
and move on even as I cry.

Sometimes I wonder why
I set this manic pace
when I could just give up and die…

But only through the chase
can I ever reach the sky
so I’ll shoulder my disgrace
and move on even as I cry.


Isn’t it a wonder
that despite those piercing pains
you could dig down deep and sunder
all those heavy, heavy chains.

‘Cause they’re just the remains
of all your former blunders,
lingering like refrains.

So howl like bloody thunder
and raise a dozen different Cains
and tear yourself from under
all those heavy, heavy chains.

Before Shambhala’s gate

What in the world am I missing?
I’m a word waiting to fill silence,
I am lips that aren’t yet kissing:
an unattained magnificence.

It’s not for lack of benevolence
(I’ve done my share of well-wishing
and my weekly Sabbath penance).

I guess I’ll have to keep fishing
for the key to my transcendence
while others keep dismissing
an unattained magnificence.

Before the fall

You proud son-of-a-bitch,
I bet you think you’re so sly
that you could pull a bait-and-switch
and steal the sun out of the sky.

I don’t even know why
I’m listening to your pitch;
I know it’s just a lie.

You’d have to be some kind of witch
to even think to try
to pull it off, without a hitch,
and steal the sun out of the sky.


Why is my mood so sour?
Why are my spirits bleak?
Why do I crouch and cower?
Why am I so weak?

Why am I such a geek,
so dim and dour,
so closed and meek?

How many more hours
must I continue to seek
real strength and real power?
Why am I so weak?


It is not the sights
that make my memory swell
with long-forgotten days and nights;
it’s that smell.

Oh, the stories I could tell
of the dreams and the delights
that hide within my shell.

Warm and oh so bright,
I recall them all so well,
the memories of all those “tonights.”
It’s that smell.


Please my sweet
promise you’ll stay
and share with me the evening’s heat.
Stay and play.

Swing and shake, tease and sway
while perspiration rolls from your teat
as you dance so coy and fey.

Please come close ‘til not even a sheet
dares to linger in the way.
Please come close and share your treats;
stay and play.

The trembling tower

There’s one thing I wish to know…
Nay, not wish but instead must
know if you are a friend or foe.
Are you someone I could trust?

Can I let you past my crust
to places others cannot go
for fear of their wanton, selfish lust?

Are you someone I can show
my fragile, wounded heart of rust
who won’t add, again, unto my woe –
are you someone I could trust?

My proud wax wings

Reach for the stars
‘cause who knows how high
and who knows how far
you can fly.

Don’t give up before you try
or be held back by your scars
or the tears you never cry…

Don’t hide in a life that’s sub-par,
open your arms and reach for the sky,
and show the world just who you are.
You can fly.

The Ascendant

I travel at the fore,
onward without a care.
Through the sky I soar
upon a stream of air.

I thunder out a dare,
a challenging roar,
and break the silence there.

I drift beyond the shore
under the moon so fair
and want for nothing more
upon a stream of air.