What happened to the consciousness?
What happened to the happiness,
That made you ever want to possess
This life, for which to caress?
What happened to the love filled day,
From which you ever thought to stray?
Whatever can you think to say,
Of why you ever went away?
It all is like an endless dream.
It’s like a reckless water stream,
That causes all of it to seem,
One must laugh, or cry, or scream.
Whenever will you find out why?
Why you ever laugh or cry?
Why you ever live or die?
Why you only wonder and sigh?
Lying awake at night,
Considering all that teaches me,
Until the morning light
Of each day born bright,
Reaches, and beseeches me.
The trivia of gossip
Fades in the moonlit night.
Thoughts born of apathy,
Too dark to see the light.
Two young boys, dashing by,
Run hard to see the fight.
A woman cries, her son may die,
Unless his wound heals right.
A million tears, a billion years,
So continues the human plight.
On reflection from depressing days,
When for humanity, felt contrite;
Away from earth, I shift my gaze,
Amazed by the vast starlight,
Which reaches to dance upon the sea,
With a message plainly is sight:
Be not concerned with earthly cares,
Except those that bring delight.
Transcend the sadness of mankind,
And let your soul take flight.
I gaze down below,
At a street of despair;
Down through the window,
As I am standing there.
I see before me,
Three cops on the street,
And one old lady,
Being pulled off her feet.
As the woman was screaming,
Away the squad car flew,
While the woman was asking,
What the hell did I do?
Onlookers gathered near,
As one to another said:
“I suppose there’s nothing to fear,”
And each went home to bed.
A wealthy man is pained to find,
His cooks have burned his meat.
He says to himself, he’s been too kind
To the peasants burning his street.
“You have no right to light a torch!”
He screams at them in vain;
Then sits back on his golden porch,
And thinks about his pain.
A pauper from the distance sees,
As his empty stomach churns.
Sniffing at the fragrant breeze,
The hunger in his stomach burns.
For in the realm of men and kings,
Where pavement clears away the trees,
Some who are owners of many things,
Through life are warm, as others freeze.
Think hard to see if I am understood,
In telling the tale of bad and good.
If badly you are possessed to disagree,
Have faith in goodness, and let it be.
Bad is the sound of defeated men, crying,
In a coma of self pity, slowly dying.
Good is awaking to common survival,
Conducting a universal love revival.
… and so here I am.
What have you done to me?
I gave you a garden land,
And all of it for free.
I asked for, in return,
But one small thing:
To love me, and to learn
To rejoice, and to sing.
Instead of that you chose
To play a foolish game,
And into my garden arose,
To put it all to shame.
Heeding every vice,
At greed’s insistence,
You did put a price
Upon my existence.
If ever you could sell,
All you do possess,
Whatever would you tell
To buy forgiveness?
Whatever will you say,
At this day’s end,
To ever let you play
In my garden again?
One traveled high,
The other low.
Each told why
He had to go:
One said fortune,
The other said peace,
Each with proportions,
Yearning to increase.
As peace had to run,
Away from a noose,
A bomb and a gun.
To look ahead.
Peace then died
’til fortune was dead.