Alone

Aimless and alone
Sitting by the phone
While wandering the streets
Of bygone days

No one is there
No one to care
Lost to the world
In a haze

CEO

Equipoise of averice and acquisitiveness
He clawed he way to the top
With books he sedated his inquisitiveness
So his climb would never stop

Few friends he ever made
And with those he used a spade

Till at last he was alone in his aimlessness

Something Found

I took a walk today
And found your sanity
On the sidewalk
He seemed quite shaken
Alone and lost
Wondering streets
He had never seen before
In a city
He had never known
I picked him up
Took him home
And served him cookies and tea
So when you go to find him
And find him missing
From where he was supposed to be
Don't you worry
He's waiting for you
At my place

Singing Bird

Pretty little bird,
Sitting in the tree,
Pretty little bird,
Won’t you sing for me?

Sing little bird,
Tweet, tweet, tweet.
I like your pretty song,
I think it’s very sweet!

The Mind of a Poet

A stranger kind of movement
But only a slight improvement
From bygone days
And bygone ways
When his mind was closer to right

Now he spends his idle time
Sitting, thinking, trying to rhyme
Writing up prose
He never shows
And trying to sleep through the night