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A Soaring Sound

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Through Thick and Thin



Whatever comes for us, in whatever way,


if we stay true to each other, then we get the final say.


Pulling apart lives are the games evil play.


From the very first day to dusk on the decider,


the world we live in is a constrainer as well as a provider.



Living our own lives under the laws of the land,


doing our best with our given hand.


Making a stand when seeing a sham? sitting back down again like a good little lamb.


Trying to sever the strings of the puppeteer year after year.


Voting again seems ever so queer.



Walking down the street in damage control,


saying what you want, falling down a black hole.


Being brave about it, putting on a smile.


Waving back when they do, man you,ve got style.


Pulling no punches, straight to the point.


Look em in the eye, and then anoint.



Take a deep breath, and remember your rule,


don,t stumble sideways and look like a bloody fool.


Grab your cue, and head off for a game of pool.


You shark you sharman, winner and loser, all in one life like the head of medusa.


Go on stay confused, or see what is said, unravel it all and solve it instead.

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Hmm..the last one is pretty deep....I don't know if we can do anything about the puppeteers ....they are pretty strong, man !!! Big evil out there...more than ever !!!

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Wherever Love Goes



Two men, two hearts, one purer than the other,


that one takes light from his soul and gives it to his brother.


His shoulders carry the weight of that burden, or so it is told,


He cannot turn away, or ever be cold,


With each small step that it takes to repair a life, turn to leaps of faith in the ways of the bold.



Now picture a place, so full of grace, and add to that a warm smiling face,


This man unwittingly takes the hand of a stranger passing by,


anyone in need of troubles to bleed can see this guy as his powers radiate from the sky.


Cupping his hands together he pours out his heart,


Then kneels on the floor and prays for a fresh start.



Living and loving go hand in hand, one feeds the other so that he might stand.


Taking the path that walks away from wrath is his journey to the sun


Closing the door on darkness, handing back his gun.


What can be said about love not dead, more and more, and forever a thread.

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What is right, what is wrong,


and on which side do we all belong.


Some of our love here, some over there.


We bide our time in the sunshine and the rain,


each one has its price, and we all pay the cost.


Turning this way and that, forever lost.



A beautifully horrid predicament with long arms that won,t let go.


Caressing us gently, then yanking us too and fro.


Placing us at the foot of our fears, and to this we spend years ascending the stairs.


Some of our loved ones stand in the shadows, held back from caring too much by the bad rose.


For the flower he hands out falls black in their hands, its dust deforms the earth as it slips through the fingers,


and then only the memory lingers, and oh for such a short time.



The heart of a strong man beats well for his woman and young uns


he faces the day, and pushes shite away, takes a deep breath and with arms wide open welcomes the warm sun,


stares down the starers, cares for the carers, never surrenders,


and always remembers.






All of you, and you know who you are, my loved ones, and the ones even loved and lost, my door remains forever open.


Words unspoken can be put right with loving actions, simple caring deeds to fulfill your needs and those dearest to you.



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