His Own Slave

The shackles clanked,
As he walked to his grave.
He’d put on so many,
He’d become his own slave.

He’d written the book,
On sneer and disgust.
He was a small, mealy man,
With a deep seated lust.

He owned a pawn shop,
He screwed them both ways.
His heart never wavered,
He hated equally each day.

The town people were waiting,
Till he died – for his stuff.
Merely having him gone,
Should have been quite enough.

But, they each wanted shackles,
Clanking and dragging like his.
They had grown so embedded,
They’d forgotten their first kiss.

So, beware, my children,
Don’t become like the rest.
Let go of your hatred.
Start by doing your best.

CAWatson 7/28/2007

There is no greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness, and truth.

• Bk. XIV, ch. 18 War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

Everyone is necessarily the hero of his own life story.

by John Barth.

Comfort

Come to me ol’ shadow blue,
With nectarine wisdom and heart so true.
Wrap me in your isle of grace.
Let me see my makers face.

Chartreuse ribbons float in the breeze.
Spiritual comfort filling all with ease.
Time devoted to passive thought,
Will sweep a change from in the heart.

Rivers of light, running through,
Thoughts and memories shared with you.
An odd connection we’ll always be.
There’s something before, with you and me.

The war’s still going, no sight of peace.
There’s too much hatred, it’s like a disease.
There’s hope though, Darlin’, we’ll make it through.
There’ll always be comfort, between me and you.

CAWatson 7/20/2007

“People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition, end by starving the best part of the mind.”

W.B. Yeats, Irish Poet

Convictions

Hold on to your convictions.
Let out not a cry.
Put your truth upon the alter.
There is nothing to deny.

Life it glides so breathlessly,
No matter what you do.
So, climb out of your chamber,
And let life be part of you.

Said the old man to the student,
“You have no idea what’s in store.
So, make your path a gentle one,
With truth at every door.

CAWatson 7/19/2007

Rose In the Storm

There’s a turning point
And a rose in the storm.
But, I don’t mind, Darlin’,
‘Cause I’m going home.

I’ve fought my battles,
I’ve raged and moaned.
I’ve grown a little,
In the miles I’ve roamed.

Now, I see you, Darlin’.
You’re shinning through.
You’ve got a life to live,
I’m releasing you.

And out from the inside,
All tumbled in chains,
Comes that inner child,
That we’d lost to our brains.

CAWatson7/19/2007

“How can you be free from fears? Fear no one, but love every man that you see. We are living in fear because our mind holds negative thoughts about people. Are you afraid of your loved ones?”….by Ty Luu.

It’s easy to make a buck. It’s a lot tougher to make a difference.

by Tom Brokaw

Dreams

There’s a bird on the porch
It’s calling my name
It wants me to come with it,
But, it won’t explain.

Are there dimensions without color?
Are our dreams actually real?
Do we fly in the night winds?
Or is that merely how we feel?

A friend of mine has nightmares.
He says there are movements in the dark.
He once woke up in a cold sweat,
And heard the “Baskervilles” bark.

He’s paranoid in the daytime.
So, guess he’s paranoid at night.
I’d rather float along smoothly,
And let my  dreams whisk me off in flight.

CAWatson 7/08/2007