In my solo years,/
I have not become moody,/
just introspective
ORjust contemplative
OR become withdrawn
Or become sullen
In my solo years,/
I have not become moody,/
just introspective
ORjust contemplative
OR become withdrawn
Or become sullen
I once dreamily thought/
That she was smoking hot.
But she’s just smoking,/
and I am not joking,/
she now is SO not!
A friend’s brother, who was a guitar and banjo maestro, recently passed away. He befriended the homeless, bringing them home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
This holiday season, I saw a homeless man standing on the corner, in the rain, with a guitar case next to him. I thought of my friend’s brother, rolled down the window, gave the minstrel some money, and said “There should always be music!” Then I wrote this.
She won’t even know/
I gave money to homeless/
guys with wet guitars.
Sometimes there’s no good /
reason for doing something /
stupid. You’re just dumb.
She always worries/
she’s babbling. The funny thing/
is: She never does.
My integrity /
is too oft negated by/
my stupidity.
Does anyone e’r/
reach the point that they don’t make/
mistakes they regret?
Creativity/
sometimes brings huge amounts of /
great stupidity.
You have a baby /
in your car and almost hit /
me. PLEASE! Stop texting!
Shoppers’ bags say “Joy!”/
So why is no one smiling?/
Except me. I grin.