Jack

Jack be nimble

Jack be sleek

Jack always had a rotten streak

when momma told him hope was bleak

he scared

and glared

and claimed to be prepared

for the scene that often aired

around him

does there burn a flaming candle?

will it kiss a candlestick?

to jump over is pure evil

is a devil's dreadful trick

what a mind to hold a memory

but to waste a mind is sin

hate is power's next of kin

next to greed and need and gin

shoulda had a claritin

ultra, non-drowsy

feels lousy

running to arouse he

never knew

i'm sure

never saw

the score

never felt

the floor

when it hit him

would've stood his ground

around

when no one found him

or wound him

poor Jack

so small and nimble

poor Jack

and candlestick

if he'd only had a beanstalk

and its picky poking pricks

perhaps therein lay his trouble

when he never realized

that life was too short-lived

and too small to be despised

thus stands the story's lesson:

when you race around life's track

and you find it hands you lemons

better wash them down with Jack.

Light is one thing. Dark is another.

What of empty?

There must be a something for something to be empty. Or lost. Or dark.

It hurts. You know you’re alive. You know you feel.

Afraid. You know you’re real. You know you feel.

Feet are heavy. Flight is grim. No one’s there to hold you.

You know you want to be held.

You want. You need. You’re real. You feel.

So fear is stupid. Is silly. Is crazy. Isn’t real.

Like you.

Like who can breath and dance a dream come true.

Like who can hope and wish and kiss and coo.

Like who is one who wants, who needs, who blew

A kiss and said I knew who

Was you.