"Poetry is the clear expression of all my mixed up feelings"

1. I am me. You are you. We are who we are for the reason that is God.
2. When the clouds above look too dark to bear, remember that angels cry.
3. Babies cry when they come to this world.
4. Why must we find out how babies cry?
5. Babies cry through God’s magical lung.
6. Babies make us feel new, even the oldest people become kids again.
7. Mother, mother, mother.
8. Father, nephew, old saloon.
9. For ol’ brothers cry of remorse.
10. Feed what makes your eyes and mind cry.
11. Why are we here?
12. For our mothers.

       13. Mothers cry, motherhood is new.

1. Motherhood is like discovering a new room in a house you have lived in forever.
2. When you die you cry too, you cry for what you once knew, for it is no more.
3. Your childhood is over, your first kiss is over, all of it is no more.
4. They grieve for you when you stop breathing, you are now no more.
5. The love that you leave will go forward forever more.
6. Your sons and daughters and sisters and brothers will challenge you.
7. Your mothers and fathers will hold out for you.
8. They have raised you.
9. From cradle to grave.
10. From grave to sky.
11. From sky to God’s hands.
12. From God’s hands to eternity.
13. As our hands shake and our hearts race we sing the song of life and love.
14. I love someone.
15. Someone loves me.
16. You must trust to love in this world.
17. Letting go means letting in.
18. Letting go means it is not over, just different,
19. Always different.
20. Different is good, different is power.
21. You are what you eat.
22. The food you eat matters, as it will be the healing force of your future children.
23. And their children.
24. And their children.
25. And your children, so when you have children, you will walk through that sacred door.
26. The door will lead you to somewhere that lasts long after you’re gone.
27. When you’re gone you listen to the music of Heaven's choir.
28. They will sing rock and roll to you and remind you that your children are safe.
29. Are you an Outsider?
30. It is okay to be different, in fact it is encouraged.
31. Normal is the new boring.
32. I don’t want my children to be boring.
33. They will not because they will come from me.
34. My children, my children, my CHILDREN.
35. Now now sweet soul, you may wonder when this poem will ever end,
36. It will not.
37. Actually it will because I will eventually get tired.
38. And need to rest.
39. Why do we rest?
40. Why did God intend Us to rest?
41. Because He said.
42. “When they rest they gain power”.
43. Power.
44. Is power in all of us?
45. Yes but we must choose between good and bad.
46. We are art.
47. Art is everywhere.
48. Our entire body, every scar from every broken bone, every wrinkle from childbirth,
49. Every broken heart from every lost crush.
50. Art.
51. Childbirth is art.
52. The heart is art.

      53. The brain is art.

      54. Every vein and artery in our body is merely a painting on a canvas of God’s work.

      55. For He is the ultimate artist and director.

      56. We are His players.

1. Ever wonder why children play?
2. This is why.
3. Children pretend play things adults do to prepare them for when they leave childhood
   behind.
4. There is a reason for it all.
5. Okay, I should stop.
6. Please be good.
7. The world needs you to be good.

My work touched all, whether they know it or not.
This world is a stage, and even football players play the game of life.
When we enter from stage womb and exit stage grave,
We do our blocking and say our lines with dignity and grace.
Hopefully we do not plant the seeds of hate, arrogance, and mistrust.
For I wrote my work for you,
So in your darkest most painful hour,
You may wonder if you were or you were not.
Sometimes I was, sometimes I was not.
For not all of my work touched generations of blossoming lovers and souls.
Timon of Athens did not garner me the recognition that the likes of Hamlet did.
For his father’s ghost touched critics and men alike.
Juliet and her romantic youthful spirit, with the ultimate sacrifice.
Celia and Rosalind, oh how I see them now in new generations of cousins.
They are playful, they are young, oh if they only knew,
That the forest of life has more than just fresh fruit for them, but some stale nuts as well.
Life will not be all roses and chocolate.
The passion of life and love can sometimes turn to stone.
Even stones can move.
We all move.
The stones that were turned thousands of years before I paved the way for you.
When my soul floated above the theatres I saw people.
I have always loved people.
Old people.
Young people.
Sitting in a chair to hear other people tell stories.
Stories about love and lust.
Laughter and tears.
Wins and losses.
Why do we as humans find so much pleasure in hearing other human’s stories?
It is so we know we are not alone.
The things that may seem foreign to us are not.
People across the globe fight similar internal battles as us.
Different languages, cultures,
Same heart.
For I am the Bard, and as a boy,
As a child, I rehearsed in front of my parents the very things I would later write down as a man. For children, playing is only them rehearsing what they will do as adults.
I invite you, my precious audience
To quietly observe your children, grandchildren, nephews and nieces at play,
Watch as they mimic,
For their growing brains are merely sponges soaking up the world around them.
They pretend cook,
Pretend drive,

Pretend caring for young, even as they are young. How fascinating is that?
The young caring for the young.
I wish I could get the old caring for the old.

For I am old.
I sit here in the same rocking chair my mother rocked me.
I rocked my children in this very chair as well.
I sit here on a bare stage with a single light on at the end of my days.
I see a man enter from stage left.
It is Stephen Sondheim.
He is also at the end of his days.
We stand on this stage together.
He begins to cry.
I feel a sudden lump in my Adam’s Apple, as my eyes that have seen so much start to flood with tears.
For we both cry because we know that even though we are no longer alive we gave our life and heart to this art form.
So your Grandchildren and their children and their children’s children can hear these very stories and know the truth of life.
The very truth of life lies in art. 

Because they die, their warm touch is no longer with us. 

Because they die, time slowly heals grief.   

Because they die, we stand there in black clothes in the grass. 

Because they die, we catch each other's tears. 

Because they die, we indulge in carbs upon carbs. 

Because they die, our children will not know them,  

Their laugh, stories, and wisdom. 

Because they die, we must learn how to move on. 

Because we live, we slowly find hope again. 

Because we live, new babies are born. 

Because we live, we see their soulful gaze in these new eyes. 

Because we love them, 

They will never truly die.

1. The past is gone.
2. It can never come back.
3. The past can hurt.
4. The past can heal.
5. Broken hearts, some mended some not.
6. The past knows all.
7. Every word you have ever spoken, when you’re gone, the past.
8. Every laugh, every tear.
9. The past holds the haunting shadows of those devastatingly murdered.
10. Stolen from their loved ones.
11. Their hands holding on so tight to something that is inevitable.
12. 6 million.
13. The past is a number so large it cannot be measured.
14. The past is shameful.
15. The past is heartless individuals.
16. The past is heroes hiding in the shadows.
17. Putting their life on the line to save an unknown soul.
18. The past is scared children.
19. The past is mothers telling their children that this will be over soon even though she
    knows it is the end.
20. The past is fathers fighting to the death to protect their wife and children.
21. The past is holding onto hope.
22. The past now holds hands with the present and future.
23. For it is all connected.
24. For each baby born today holds a piece of the souls that lived in that dark time.
25. The past is gone, but can it come back?
26. Today we sit around with generations of relatives and always ask the same questions.
27. How is school?
28. The baby looks just like you!
29. Did you get a raise at work?
30. But we never ask the most important question-
31. Will you ever let a catastrophe of the past happen again?
32. I will not.
33. Will you?

In an ocean
Among the hillside
The fireball shines within
Many versions of me come to the surface
I open my mouth and I cannot speak, much like an infant who can only cry
I am reminded now of that time, having something inside me and not being able to express No words, just tears
Sorry
What are you sorry for?
For you are only being you
For half of you has disappeared under water
You throw something up, losing hope and giving up
But something deep inside tells you no
No! Yes
You are in a cage now, grappling at everything, unsure what to do!
Hope! Are you still there?
Yes.
A voice tells you. A voice reaches its hand out to you.
A parachute.
You are safe now
You are good now
You sit down now
You breathe in and out now
You discover that you are still here.
Somebody offers you a glass of milk
You taste it, the cool smooth texture of it reminds you immediately of your childhood 

Breathe
Express YOURSELF
A blanket of warmth and peace falls over you now.
For only a moment, you are a child again.

A love from deep in my heart
For you have stolen mine from the start
Even through space, time, and distance I know we are never truly apart 

For in your eyes I see a man that is smart

In that late hour when the only light was the moon
I sat in that chair and your tiny body was placed in my arms in that sacred room I was overtaken with emotion, all I could do was croon
You are now and forever safe in your Auntie’s cocoon

In those early days the world was so big yet so small Any day now you will be able to crawl
I will always be there to catch you if you fall

Whether it is baseball or football

You will find your place in this path of life
There will be some strife
Even easy times may present rife
Darkness may be all that is in the night
But if you watch for the sun to rise you will be surprised 

Life will happen and it will make you cry

When times get like that, go explore the wildlife
Oh my sweet boy, it is a long winding road, but oh a good life