I like to write poems.  That quote in "The Big Short" is painfully true.

I write them anyway.  If you really like poetry read some of the ones below. If you don't like poetry or you just don't "get it" I understand.  Let's both pretend this never happened.

New Year's Poem


Tonight we live, we have no choice!

We live and breathe and have OUR voice.


We pause to grieve those that have left us.

We wish that they were standing near.

Our hearts grow FIRM as we remember,

Although our eyes may shed a tear.


We live for them.  We live for memories!

The days ahead are OURS to share.

We'll add a host of "remember when wes?"

In many things we do this year.


And with so many loved around us.

And so much we've still left to give.

We reject darkness that may hound us.

And we ALL say, tonight we live!


-- December 31, 2016



You know what they say, insert half-truth here.

Oh haven't you heard? It's not yet quite clear?

They told us dream big.  Go reach for the stars.

But that wasn't pleasant.  I'll show you my scars.


They told us don't quit, it just doesn't pay.

That's just what I hear.  You know what they say.

They say that not all is as it appears.

I'm trying to not have unfounded fears.


They told us the future is better for sure.

Then stare at us blankly and say there's no cure.

It sure makes me wonder why we listen to them.

We should spend awake time listening to Him.


-- Spring 2017

Time, My Favorite Fiend


Of all the things we think we know,

The one more words cannot explain.

A favorite thing down here below,

There needn't be the next refrain.


With fearful thought and halting breath,

I come to you my erstwhile friend.

Another line closer to death,

And hurtling toward a certain end.


When I was young and full of you,

I didn't note your subtle smile.

My mind was fresh and yet askew,

I was quite sure we had a while.


But oh! You knew.  I see that now.

Perspective changes everything.

All seemed well and then KERPOW!

You went and did that thing you do.


You're fixed and yet you can expand.

It seems quite certain that's a fact.

But as I get to-ward my end,

I ask you please, please not contract.


You don't seemed moved by my distress,

A tick, a tock, no more, no less.

A friend, a foe, something between?

Alas, I give!  My favorite, fiend.


-- Spring 2017

Slight Risk of Death


There's a slight risk of death but probably not you.

Though the number is small still a panic ensues.

You should try to keep calm and comprehend what was said.

But there's this loud, awful voice far too real in your head.

And you know that it's nuts, an irrational fear.

But it just won't subside, and it's all that you hear.


-- Spring 2017

How Can I Convince You?


How can I convince you I love you this much?

Would God grant me words that your soul I might touch.

And not in some epic or fanciful way.

Or something that brings but a pendulum sway.


I want you to know in your deepest refuge.

That terrible place of life's horrid deluge.

That I am for you.  No more and no less.

May God give me strength to always confess.


There is only you.  I'm faithful.  I'm true.

I'll yell it to strangers while playing kazoo.

I have one core mission, just one I pursue.

Yet so very often I can't convince you.


-- February 2017



Write what you see,

The shortest way;

For words may be

All that you say.


-- April 7, 1994



I am the city.

Come send me your boys;

I am the city.

Partake and rejoice.


I am the city.

The trains float about me;

The people in masses,

Like veins flow throughout me.


I am the city.

Come give me your wisdom;

I shall repay you,

With strife and derision.


I am the city.

Rush into my buildings;

I shall detain you,

Until the days ending.


I am the city,

You fight to disown me;

Your children arrive,

And soon will sustain me.


-- June 14, 1994



The generation’s torch is passed.

It burned quite long, but died at last.

Now I must seize, and with it grasped.

Build a flame to dim the past.


And with this goal I must not boast,

Or ask whose torch shed light the most.

However large the flame may be,

It does not burn because of me.


For it was passed from one before,

Who more than me, that simply bore,

Molded from nothing something more.

That I may hold the torch on high,

And hope to pass it ‘fore I die.


-- January 25, 1995

The Wedding Funeral


I shall wait to meet you all my life,

And finding you will be my prize.

Oh! I will watch you patiently;

Each molding trial I shall see.


And in the day I am assured,

Your body chaste and mind matured.

Whate'er is needed shall I give;

For this sole reason will I live.


May Jacob's fourteen years a slave,

Not send me to an early grave.

But if the wait shall take my life,

I take the earth to be my wife.


And this indeed may bring you mirth,

That I should wait to marry earth.

But in this wait my heart was true,

I loved no other except you.


My birth was given from your dust;

And walking on your outer crust,

I saw your beauty everyday.

The love you gave I now repay.


Let your arms of soil cover me,

And light the flame of unity.


-- December 7, 1994

The Blossoming


My heart began an empty field,

With weed and waste my only shield;

This to my mind, of course, appealed,

But soil must have fruit to yield.


And so the farmer gave his aid,

He cut my field with iron blade;

Until my soul was open laid,

A deep and bloody scar was made.


But in this scar I found a seed,

An irritant beneath the weed;

And to it then I paid no heed,

For healing was my greatest need.


The storms soon came to rain on me,

To try and test me ardently;

I often thought eternity,

Held nothing more than this for me.


But breaking through the morning air,

A morning with which none compare;

Up from a wound that once was there,

A plant with fruit it soon would bear.


A field that once was waste and weed,

Cut by desire, forced to bleed,

Shaken by winds, drenched from above,

Is full of happiness and love.


-- November 15, 1994

My Passion Grows


“My passion grows.” when said complete;

For now she knows when our eyes meet,

She looks upon a private man,

Who rarely fawns but surely can,

Express himself in every way,

When given reason to display,

Those secret feelings no one knows,

But secretly, my passion grows.


-- February 26, 1997

It's Been A Long Time


My passion grows, it once was said.

But now she knows what's in my head.

A not so quiet, private man;

So self-absorbed but with a plan.

To set this broken world aright.

Yet sensitive to any slight.

Alas I'm running out of time;

To make banal into sublime.

So now, it's true, my passion shrinks;

It burned quite brightly then methinks.


-- June 2017