in the dark

in the dark Ive always stayed
ive never been out into the light
like a murderer never let out of his prison
no one tells me how life goes along
their life sings and flies the way that they want it to
mine just drags by and seems like it will never end
in the dark ive always been
in the dark i will always remain

the better life

for the better life
what would you do?
climb mountains
go to the ends of the earth
what for the better life
a life of luxury and
ease?
where the grass
never dies
where happiness is a surplus?
where nobody dies
 where is the better life?
always where you're not
its always on the other side

these hands

work
play
these hands do it all
rough, rugged, creases, and blisters
in these well worn hands
cuts and burns and scratches
these are my fishing hands
these are my climbing hands
and my building hands
these hands I'm using right now
these are my writing hands

poems that will probably never make it to the big times, but i love writting them anyway

Crime
illegal
broken rules
hopping fences in the middle of the night
getting the thrill and adrenaline rush
from seeing the flashing lights and wailing sirens
it feels great if you are successful
sucks if you get caught
running as fast as you can
avoiding the dogs right on your heels
somehow evading them
breaking the law only for the thrill
for fun
for crime
you are now a criminal