Anatomy
Green and lush
our planet was;
now fires flush
and chainsaws buzz.
Do as I say,
not as I do;
this is not the way
answers are found through.
We used to care;
we used to try.
No longer aware,
sight through blind eye.
Kill it for money,
cash feeds our veins.
This isn't funny,
this is insane.
Where was it wrong?
What could it be?
Our lives were a song,
now without melody.
Where are our heroes,
now that we need them?
We deserve all our woes;
we neglected to feed them.
This tale is sad,
but yet very true.
It all makes me mad,
the things that we do.
Lost for all ages?
No love and all hate?
Victims of war wages,
we've sealed our own fate.
August 1990
The Message Never Sent
A pain so great
that it is more
than any doctor
or pill could cure.
For now it is
my heart that bleeds;
it's killed all my wants,
and maimed all my needs.
The sun plays joyfully
on her golden hair;
unable to have her,
I sit and I stare.
Love is a vice,
enclosing my heart,
and yet it's felt good,
right from the start.
This is true torture;
this is pure hell;
have so much to say,
but still I can't tell.
So here I am sitting,
this poem I write;
hoping against hope
that read it she might.
November 1990
I Didn't Mean It
I didn't mean it when I said,
"I never loved you before."
And now I lie, as though I'm dead,
and weep forevermore.
You really mean so much to me,
in ways I can't explain,
and now I want you close to me,
and in my arms again.
"I'll love you always!" I need to say;
my life with you was great.
Dejection is the price I pay
for realizing love too late.
December 1990
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