(poem) - A Strength in True Love

There comes a time
When all men die
But sometimes first
They live the lie.

There is something fanciful
About living life
No matter how much
You go through strife


There will always be
A lie down deep
That prevents you
From getting sleep

Pain will set in
If you let it start
And all your friends
Will faithfully depart

Alone
Trapped in a mine
Alone
Within your own mind

I’ve watched it tear
The strong apart
The weak
Simply do not have the heart


To do what I did
I did it right
I trusted my spouse
Without a fight

I believed in her
She believed in me
And somewhere along the way
Her and I merged into We.

I made a choice
Where some simply cannot
To love her dearly
Until I rot

Yet being buried
Is a long way off
And at men’s typical weakness
Doth I scoff

I enjoy being hers
In every way
Knowing that my love
Will never sway

There is a strength in that
I have found
That most never do
They do nothing but cheat at the sound

Of winter coming
And old age drawing near
I accept its coming
With my love I hold so dear.

--Dan

--Want more Poetry?  Check out my Poetry Collection Page!

A Fine Dining Lie

Maybe its just because I’ve traveled a bit....  That has to be it, because...when I think of Fine Dining, I don’t think of a crowded hole in the wall, waiting an hour on food, greasy food that I end up throwing up when I get home, or over peppered chicken that drowns out any other flavors that may have been there.

Part of me wonders if its just the city itself, its not a very big city, but it really seems to try (and fail) at certain things.  The weird thing is, people eat up this ‘fancy’ talk and really give these places awesome reviews....

Old Wounds

There’s nothing quite like getting old.  It seems the more you age, the more you hurt.  But I always looked at a bit differently.  It seems the longer you live the more wounds you collect.  And nothing hurts worse than old wounds.

Yes, I’m talking about physical and emotional.  On the physical side, I have the one that scares me the most.  A few years ago, I feel off some rocks on the California coast.  I hit my head pretty hard, bled quite a bit, but it stopped quick enough.  That injury has caused me to have acute motion sickness now.  I never had it before...but now, I go up in a plane with Lisa, and if I haven’t taken something, then yeah...I know it pretty quickly....

(poem) - To Flow From Here to There

This is a poem about poetry
Poetry that rolls with the flow

Flow that continues down the hill
The hill of life that goes forever down

Down into the depths of despair
Despair that brings all to their knees
Knees that bleed from the impact of life
Life that goes on until death

Death comes for us all
All we are will be carried by memories
Memories fade like passion’s flare
Flares that shoot into the sky

Skies that are brightened up by sparks
Sparks that look like falling stars
Stars that harbor distance planets
Planets that may hold alien life

Life that blooms everywhere
Everywhere around us
Us who live and exist through time
Time that has a beat


A beat that measures the flow
The flow of poetry
Poetry that comes out of my fingers
Fingers that fly upon the keyboard

The keyboard that relays this poem
This poem that went to the far edges of the universe
And Back

--Dan

--Want more Poetry?  Check out my Poetry Collection Page!

Hyper-Boredom, the Misdiagnosed Problem with the World

Part of me wishes I had made up the term “Hyper Boredom” but I didn’t.  Its been bounced around for a bit, used as a title to a blog or three, and been dropped a few times by other bloggers just rambling on.  One in particular listed boredom as a huge thing with suicide, and mentioned that most mental illnesses either are boredom, or are rooted in boredom.

For the longest time, I’ve fully believed that boredom was a HUGE issue, and it iss odd to watch it in the current teenage generation.  I’ve experienced boredom, a huge amount of it, all my life.  But there’s something more to it now....