I know that the sky is blue!

The sky is only gas
if you see blue
its only through
the prism of your eye

Then the truth must be that
the sky is blue
when viewed through ones eye

You’re closer now to what is true
but everyone’s eyes are unique
while you’re eye sees a shade of blue
my eye may see a different hue

Then what I see is not truly blue?

Oh no, it is truly blue
your own unique shade of blue
and the hue I see when I see the sky
may be different than you
but no less true

Tell me please,
I don’t understand,
how can both be true?

Because truth itself is quite as unique
as the prism of your eye
What one believes to be true
is true
unless proven a lie

In his father’s world of coal dust and dark
the measure of a man was hung
on the sweat on his chest
the sweat on his brow
and, of course, the soot in his lungs

No thought of ballet for the sons of these men,
those sons were football bound
until, that is, they reached the age
to reach the underground

Billy knew that he too was bound
for that soot filled underground
it was written in family tradition
as their fated but unjust perdition

If heroes are born from ashes and soot,
Jackie Elliot was clearly one
‘to hell with this town’s tradition’
he said ‘my boy has talent, he has ambition
I’ll sell my soul to see this done’

And done it was! And done it was!
at the cost of his status and pride
He sold what he could and bartered the rest
so he and Billy could take that ride

Peace
An endangered species
Begs negotiation
Needs resuscitation

Compromise
A dirty word?
Scorned as sin
Some never give in

Counting
The dead and injured
As they were counted
The toll mounted

Tears
Recriminating floods
Sons and daughters die
Hopes and dreams fly

Winners
Lose integrity
Gain enmity
No serenity

Or believe like others do
in the eternal rest of death,
the dreamless, peaceful dark,
that ends this earthly test?

Have you ever wished for death
in the midst of grief or pain,
without regard for Heaven or Hell
just an end to endless strain?

The good news or the bad news is:
there’s a final act in your play
but you may be called for curtain calls
from the lives you touch today

Languish in the quiet grave
with nothing left behind
by living on the sideline
uncommitted, silent, undefined

Live on in precious memories
of a kindness shown a friend
Live on as that gentle stranger
who offered to lend a hand

Something hypocritical is in the air
a logical paradox, unless, to be fair,
Someone thinks he IS the mighty God
or believes he’s received a Heavenly “Nod”

But the doctor was a murderer, Roeder said,
he killed the unborn — he had to die.
So I waited in the church ’till he came into view,
near the last pew,
took out my gun and let bullets fly.

Something hypocritical is in the air
Deadly Hypocritical, unless, to be fair,
Someone thinks he IS the mighty God
or knows he’s been blessed with a Heavenly “Nod”

Domestic terrorists, as well as foreign,
don’t doubt they can murder and seize,
when “God’s Will” is their motivation,
their Holy invitation,
to do as they damn well please.

The venue, Mr. Holder, is
a deceptive controversy
The problems, Mr. Holder are
the terrible inequities

It’s a grave National insult
when we give our sworn enemies
those rights reserved to citizens
by Constitutional guarantees

Kindness and forgiveness are NOT
appropriate repartees
for the acts of war against us
by terrorists and wannabes

That may sound harsh or un-Christian
and that’s truly as it should be
kindness is repaid for kindness
and punishment paid to enemies

A trial in Paducah is fine
or down on the banks of the Suwanee
A tent in the desert would work
as well as Washington D.C.

Don’t dare however to propose
terrorists have equality
under law or Constitution
with the RIGHTS of the citizenry