Tell me of vile old men
With hearts so cold.
Their pudgy fingers,
Hoarding all the gold.
They give you diamonds,
In the light of the moon,
Their wives sleep restless,
In another room.
Tell me stories
Of how they build and burn.
How they use the people,
From whom they learn.
How they make an empire,
Out of others souls,
How their greed and lust,
Oozes out their pores.
Tell me how,
We can bring them down.
Let me watch them in,
Their own greed drown.
CAWatson08/20/2009
Let’s dance another dance,
Let’s sing another song.
We’ll gather around the piano,
While we all sing along.
It’s been a great party,
I hate to see you run.
Let’s have another laugh,
Before the evenings done.
We think this time is casual,
Yet, it’s memories soon to be.
Then, I’ll smile and think of you,
Will you smile and think of me?
CAWatson08/20/2009
On tranquil nights,
When all is still,
Except for the Whip-poor-wills
Repetitive twill.
I take a lean back,
To see where I’ve been,
Smiling at odd adventures,
I’ll share with my friend.
Oh, life is full,
It’s a twist, then a turn.
The answer lies,
In what you learn.
Our paths, they wander,
Both left and right,
Some so sad,
Others a true delight.
I’ve been truly lucky,
Through all the years,
It’s like dancing in a garden,
Without any fears.
Oh, struggles, sure,
A few heartaches, too,
While the thread in my life,
Has been strong and true.
So, sing your song,
Dear Whip-poor-will.
As I breathe in nature,
Here, on my hill.
CAWatson08/20/2009
Remember the picture chart of man?
Prehistoric on the left to the present on the right.
I met one of the early ones,
He was at a club the other night.
Should I tell the police?
Would a scientist recognize him at first sight?
He wore more clothing.
Everything else was the same.
His words were crude,
He seemed to have a small brain,
It dwelt within his large forehead.
I never really got his name.
Do some humans grow,
While others digress?
Are we here for the same reasons,
Or are others needing to strive less?
Perhaps, it’s not who we are,
It’s merely about doing our best.
CAWatson 08/16/2009
I listened to the silence,
As the little shoe fell.
Deeper, deeper, down the old well.
I listened with amazement,
At the distant ker-splash,
As the one little shoe,
Hit the water…
I had told her I wouldn’t wear them.
I had told her they looked like boys shoes.
She said they were for play.
She said they were Buster Browns
She said they would be good and sturdy.
I hold told her I wouldn’t wear them
I had told her they looked like boys shoes.
I slowly pushed back,
The old weathered board,
That covered the well.
Buster Brown had fallen so far.
Perhaps, it was his greatest feat…
Buster Brown and the great fall,
I told her I wouldn’t wear them.
CAWatson 08/15/2009
The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt.
Bertrand Russell
