Again, again, I ask, “So tell me, son,
how was your day?” Thirty-four sanctions,
and seven detentions since September’s start.
How can you be so brilliant yet so lost?
Why don’t you listen, son, why don’t you see?
I wish for you the world, the moon, the stars,
but here I stumble, unsure where to step.
Do I lift you up, or let you learn the fall?
Do I soften my voice, or should it harden?
My dreams for you are vast, yet they collide
with the growing pains of who you’re meant to be.
I taught you chess, the piano’s tender keys,
and numbers that could build a life of strength.
I held you through the nights when skies were dark,
but now the storms you face are in your mind.
I pray to God above to guard your thoughts,
to guide your feet upon the path to peace.
Is this a phase, a season passing through,
or am I faltering, failing where I stand?
I do not know, my son, but still I hope.
Be strong, be wise, and rise beyond these days.
For you, my love will always seek the way.
I am what I am and there's none that can change me,
The word can be heaven or a feary pit depending on What you choose to be.
It doesn't depend what people see
As they can't distinguish every single tree
But your creator knows what you deserve
As he was the only one to observe
He saw you at all your emotions
He only knows your truth and devotion
He gives award for your actions
Now it may be pleasure or Harsh detentions
So he is the only one to trust
As he knows you from depth to crust
He gives you life and takes it away
So it's better to worship him every day
Laughing during mutual intimacy
Yet intimate war-song sang daily
History knows no detentions for it
The first censured; second is justice
Back in my hole in the back of the den
racking up souls with every heart that I spend
Laughing at those birdies floating far far away
half in astral detentions known to scar and fillet
Compacted in thy dirt, I’m comfortable in failure
It’s only after that I’ll hurt, for during I’m the sailor
mapping out tides I’ll avoid any turn
crashing into the same bridges that I’ve already burned
Back then my den was smaller and included
facts to save myself from the loneliness precluding
any ambition to pursue the wildest dream
or any mission of love, unrealistic though they may seem
They fashioned for me a reason to keep
myself trapped wholly deep thinking I needed the key
Some intangible force to unlock my own life
Some box of remorse I deserved from that wife
Soon I’ll dig myself out from this den
I’ll reclaim my soul and fill my heart with it again
She doesn’t give detentions
but casts spells-
my best friend now sits
on a stool in the corner of the room
as a toad
for an unwanted remark.
Her topics include-
potions for everyday use
how to wave a magic wand
and incantations.
Her Driver’s Ed course
teaches students
how to ride a broom.
A dark cloud lingers
over her pointed hat,
and follows her
as she paces
in the front of the class room.
There’s no rain,
only a rumble of thunder
of her thoughts.
Bats flutter and swarm
like shadows
in the corner of the room
as everyone sits still
captured by her spell.
Sometimes plans just go awry
Despite your best intentions.
Then you rally and you try
Assorted interventions.
You could shrivel up and die
From all the added tensions,
But to do so would defy
The normative conventions.
It’s a waste to wonder why
There have to be dissensions.
Life is likely to supply
Dilemmas and detentions.
So the thing to do is sigh
And focus your attentions
On ways for you to pacify
Your growing apprehensions.
No, Shar, I'd never heard of it, but I will, i looked it up, and it's got a great rating.
Sounds good! Thanks!! My friend John S. is a horror buff of the first ranking. He
was even on the peripheral edges of some things. Was working with Joe Spinell
when he died (Joe) from a tooth infection complicated with heavy cocaine use.
Freddy, 'Ol boy- for you I'm sure the words would be "I'm just a boy whose
detentions were good!..... And, when you med Davy Jones, was that at his
locker? Do you really like Burdon? Have his Mickey Most series?? Regards, tom
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