old school

i know... i'm old

when the time comes

that a man hides a pack of cigs

in the door of his car

and feels the simple act

of sucking a single one down

is cause for celebration,

then something is seriously fucked.

maybe this isn't a poem,

perhaps it's just words in the void

looking for some random hand

to pluck it out of the obscurity of cyberpsace

and show it the love and tenderness

the creator was unable to bestow.

every way i've chosen to live

the pecious years dealt to me

by the slick hand of God

have been lies and errors,

and the only certainty

i understand as fact

as cold and hard as bedrock

is this is not what was intended

when man and woman

walked hand in hand

with a flaming sword at their backs.

anger and fear should not be reality,

only mere bedtime stories

to frighten children who won't go to bed.

indeed, the way of life can be beautiful,

but in our hurry to find paradise

we trample over it in boot covered feet,

stomping on the beautiful flowers, faces, and souls.

Author's Note

i'm drunk... wanna make out?