I once saw a very gloomy old man Whose smile weighed only a gram. I said, “If you tell me what’s wrong I’ll do what I can!” But he just sat there as cold as a clam.
He did not move, not once! Never did he decide to look. Just smoked out of his pipe Reading a dusty old book.
He kept getting older, and older: He now had long hair and a beard. The room felt colder, way colder: He finally looked up as he sneered. His image got lighter and lighter As his hair got whiter and brighter.
This sad man drew nearer, and nearer As I felt closer to him much dearer. The truth became clearer, way clearer That this old man – was me, Staring into a mirror.
Back in the Summer of eighty five thank God I was still alive music was filling the streets as I chilled by the strip here’s the trip many girls were dressed with flames both were not ashamed the innocence of
Tears of Man You have the right to remain silent. Do you make the choice or remain violent? Do you evolve and become more civilized? Or do you choose to stay belligerent? You choose to be healthy, like you are
The bones are brittle as are the thoughts they crumble events of yesterdays that never happened things that happened not remembered today becomes another time faces and events mingle become a crazy quilt He sits and stares unaware of a
When a rose turns old petals fall but the rose bud remains and its beauty and fragrance leaves a lasting impression in our minds Sure the beauty and fragrance of a rose lasts but briefly but the rose garden goes
Who said that dawn doesn’t know him? Yes … Who has said that? He is secreting night when the sunset flows to poem end ; the flute, which surrendered stealthily to the day song, it runs away from the maze