Old Friend

What gives man comfort in his time of need?
Consoling him like no lover or friend?
Opening his mind to new line of thought
Allowing him to finally defend
Against the suffering of his poor heart
Or the sorrows that threaten to drown him?
There is only one immortal ally
That always shimmers when the world grows dim.
When lovers and friends abandon their post
Or family pass beyond that starry veil,
And stricken by that realization:
You have but one life...half over...half failed...
Who is it that rushes to fight your blues?
Your old and unfailing friend, Mr. Booze.

An age old musing

King of Ephyra, you clever old fool...
How could you expect a happy ending
After betraying the trust of Lord Zeus,
Trading the location of Aegina
In return for a spring from Asopus?

When Lord Zeus decided to punish you
You refused to accept what you were due...
With your deceitful wit, you chained Hades
(or Thanatos, depending on the tale)
And thus mortal man became immortal.

You deprived Ares of Wartime fun,
And all the Gods of their sacrifices
Which they are much deserving from all men,
All so you could try to escape your fate.
Until they convinced you to unchain him.

And when you finally were called to death
You couldn't help but try just one more trick.
Escorted by the fleet footed Hermes
To the Underworld, the realm of the dead,
You Dishonored Hades' beautiful queen.

With aid of your wife, who left you to rot
Without burial at your own request,
You lamented to Queen Persephone
Who, moved to great compassion and pity
Allowed your return to the mortal realm.

When your vile trickery was found out,
And  you were ordered to return, you fought,
Forcing Hermes to once again find you
And drag you back down to the Underworld
Before the thrones of Hades and his queen.

But Zeus, in his fury at your deceit,
And the dishonor you came to display
In the selfish quest to avoid your fate
Brought you a fate more terrible than death,
A lesson for all mortal men to see...

He gave you a stone, stood you on a hill,
And then gave you what you desired most:
Lord Zeus blessed you with immortality.
Though given an eternal life, it was cursed.
You were cursed. Eternal struggle your fate.

Though...I can't help but to wonder something:
Are you a lesson to all mortal men
To the rewards of misused cleverness?
Or are you a reflection of mankind
And our fight against our impermanence?

Though I don't pity you, King Sisyphus,
I can not deny that I sympathize.
For all men struggle and scheme to outlast
The years they were given upon birth
And to be ourselves like the Gods we serve.

The Human race struggles to rise above
our station, using our cleverest minds.
We push the boundaries of what we know
Like you push that burdensome stone of yours,
Wondering just how much further we have...

Before we reach the summit of our hill,
Or before our stone begins rolling down...

When is the last time I cried?

When was the last time I cried?

It wasn’t when I was in sixth grade,
and I ripped the flesh from my knees
when I crashed my bike going downhill
on broken asphalt.
I cried after that.

It wasn’t junior year of high school
when I thought I knew heartbreak
long before I ever truly understood
what actual love was.
I didn’t think it possible, but I cried after that.

It wasn’t the day I was married,
nor the birth of my children
though I was moved to tears of joy,
and I thought nothing could make me cry again.
Like a bad habit I couldn’t kick,
I would cry after that.

Nor when I fell on a catwalk
and injured my back at a merciless company,
Who fired me to be rid
Of an injured man,
While the pain and degradation was unbearable…
No, I cried after this.

When Was the last time I cried?

It was today.

Today was the last time that I have cried,
when I was told my son’s highest potential
would be a Walmart greeter, or cart gatherer.
That he would be lucky to have a job
that almost everyone else is overqualified for.

Today, I wept.

In the quiet of my office,
in the darkest corner I could find,
I wept until my eyes were dry and burning,
my throat was hoarse from sobbing,
and my lungs felt like they were on fire.
Today, a father wept like a child,
and I do not think I will ever cry again…

Until tomorrow…

…and the days after…
when I wake up,
when I go about my day,
and when I drift off to sleep…
           …thinking only of today.

A Lesson From Covington

Banging his drum, and chanting at the sky,

Like a bastardized version of Moses,
He parted them as he walked in their midst,
In their confusion, they moved to the side.
Having just moments before been attacked
By the self described 'Black Israelites'
For their terrible sin of being white,
They stared at him, not sure how to react.

They parted before him, and he walked on
Till he came across a boy, tall and proud,
Who refused to step back, as had the crowd.
The man beat his drum, the boy smiled on...
Though spat on and cursed, the boy stood his ground.
Giving each other  a defiant stare,
Hatred and anger swirling through the air,
From the crowd of adults now gathered 'round.

The media, doing what it does best,
Portrayed this boy and his friends as villains,
As bigots and racists to the millions
Of it's base who thrive on social unrest.
Blue checks of Twitter, they answered the call:
Threatening the boy with their violence
A grand display of left wing tolerance...
But the truth came out, and outrage was stalled.

Dear reader,  I'm certain with your own eyes
That you've seen what really happened that day:
A boy condemned for not backing away,
Condemnation fueled by media lies.
The lesson from this event is too clear:
When the media comes for you or me,
Let us pray that we should be so lucky
As to have the proof to survive the smear!

Deplorable

Defying the agenda of traitors,
Embracing our traditional ideals
Pushing back on 'America Haters'
Loving the fight, and refusing to yield.
Organizing against the insurgence
Respondong to the call of our nation
Ascending to our great culture's defense
Bowing to none, fight without cessation
Leading the charge to keep our nation free
Enacting new Manifest Destiny.

                                          

A simple question

I am a fool, I'll not deny,
My actions speak louder than words
And all the improvements that I try,
They every one crash hard and burn.
To fault me for the wrong I've done,
With no words for the right I've thought
Ignores the race I've thus far run,
And every last battle I've fought.
And though I'm not a perfect man...
Romantic, proud, and bellicose...
I strive to be the best I can,
Does that not make me more than most?
So then to what must I appeal
To prove to you I'm your ideal?

Focus!

Wake,
Jump up!
Grab my clothes,
Run down the stairs
Into my garage.
There, my weights are waiting
For a 'Clang and bang' session
As Dwayne 'the Rock' Johnson calls it.
My equipment is subpar at best
But I try to make do, and that's what counts.
Every minute I spend lifting today
Is an investment in tomorrow's
Happiness and my confidence,
Making me a better man
Than the one I am now.
Until tomorrow,
I have today.
Make it count:
Focus!
Lift...