STARS… a song

Silhouette of Woman Standing on Rock Near Body of Water during Night Time

She was walking down the sidewalk

Under big ole city lights

The dream of dreams she always had

Most every single night

And, momma tried to warn her

Of the wolves that run that town

Then… One casting couch later

And her dreams came tumbling down

—–

(Chorus)

She sent her wishes to the stars

And prayed some prayers for her success

She didn’t get too far, because

This life is such a mess

And if she’d known back then, the things,

She surely does know now

That stars and prayers and wishes

Don’t always make a happy sound

—–

That same boy comes in the diner

Almost every single day

He doesn’t order much

And he has even less to say

But soon the furtive glances

Turn into a rendezvous

She never thought her loneliness

Could become a me and you…

—–

(Repeat chorus)

She sent her wishes to the stars

And prayed some prayers for her success

Now she’s come so far, because

This life she has is blessed

And if she’d known back then, the things,

She surely does know now

That stars and prayers and wishes

In a child’s a happy sound

Yeah, stars and prayers and wishes

In a child’s a happy sound


HORIZONS… a poem

areal photography of ocean

Don’t count me in

I’m leaving again

Your horses are dragging me down

Like clouded sun rays

You ruin my days

I don’t want to see you around

But the only way out

And away from your pout

Is for me to go back out to sea

Where the air is much fresher

Without you and your pressure

Just horizons that beckon to me

HORIZONS… a poem

The clouds on the horizon

They never do get near

A fleeting star shoots through the night

Out into the clear

Just beyond my reach again

Just beyond my heart

Maybe on the morrow

I can find a brand new start

If home is where the heart is

It’s where I want to be

Casting doubts and broken promises

Always a part of me

But I’ll keep on dreaming, yes

It’s what I always do

For one day on that horizon

I know that I’ll find you

Humanity… a poem

 
Little old Fiddlebrock Simpsonstien
Wondered the streets alone
He was a simple and quiet old man
His features like toppling stone
No one could understand him
When words did escape his lips
While some would laugh and tilt their heads
Others laid hands on hips
With head hung low like the setting sun
Fiddlebrock heads for home
An appliance box with newspaper floor
Keeps him warm from the fresh falling snow
Image result for homeless cardboard homes
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