LESSONS LEARNED?

Oh if I knew then what I know now,
I’m sure that things would change somehow,
I’m sure they would, well pretty sure,
I know life now; I’ve had the tour,
My wisdom now could help me then,
Not make the same mistakes again?
Could I learn to change, or stick to my guns?
Nah, I’d make mistakes,
Just different ones.

CHRISTMAS

Every year,
I fight the cheer,
I play along,
But listen here;
It’s not that easy,
The yule thing,
All the joy,
And all the bling,
I do okay,
I coast along,
Good greetings here,
A Christmas song,
But underneath,
It’s just a play,
I promise to,
Ignore the day,
But every year,
It’s just the same,
Come Christmas day,
I shed the game,
No matter how,
I’ve fought and torn,
I awake on Christmas morn,
Overwhelmed,
By Christmas spirit,
No matter how,
I fight and fear it,
It overtakes me,
None discreetly,
As Dickens wrote,
I’m done completely,
I’m overcome,
And what is worst,
My heart expands,
So it might burst,
On the 26th,
It’s gone to sand,
But on the 25th,
My fellow man,
Can do no wrong,
Not a single one,
I’m opened wide,
My plans undone,
For on that day,
That Christmas toll,
Some kind of magic,
Takes control,
No matter how I feel,
Throughout the year,
This special day,
It all seems clear,
That Love profound,
Clear, unadorned,
Can change the world,
How it’s been formed
Yes for that one day,
I understand,
Our real strength,
When we can stand,
As one,
A single human race,
A collective will,
And take our place,
All colour, creed,
Religion gone,
Bound as one,
And moving on,
To our next phase,
Of evolution,
When we move from problem,
To solution,
But so powerful,
Is this clear insight,
It’s only there,
For Christmas night,
On that one day,
We stand embracing,
Then after wonder,
What we’re chasing,
A memory, a thought,
A “what could be”,
If only all,
Yes, you and me,
Could connect our hearts,
And feel the way,
That we all feel,
On Christmas day.

Butter Rich

Did you happen to read,
In the paper today,
Of the shortage of butter,
Over in Norway?
So ill-timed and cruel,
This sad deprivation,
Leads Norwegians to look,
Outside of their nation.
They can use margarine,
As one way of faking,
The lack of real butter,
In their holiday baking.
But a butter black market,
Is what Norway’s needing.
So let’s bootleg some butter,
From butter rich Sweden.

Art or Science?

Is love ever not an act of faith?
Is there some equation to replace the inner workings of the heart?
Is love science, or is love art?
Many would say both play an equal part.
Either way, it comes down to the leaping,
To find out if a love’s worth keeping,
An analysis of what could be,
Then you have to close your eyes to see,
Walk slowly to the edge with me,
Take my hand,
And jump.

The Grinch Was Not Alone

The Grinch was not the only one at all,
Who found his heart to be two sizes too small,
Truth is, without disrespect or derision,
For many, that’s the fallback position,
In order for them to show empathy,
One must first find their heart and break it free,
Break into their ivory tower and shine a light,
Show life is made of more than wrong and right,
It’s mistakes and growth, not just win and lose,
We should spend more time wearing other’s shoes.

Surfacing

Submerged for years,
I manage to find which way is up,
Then rise again to the surface of our love,
Gasping for your breath and your warmth,
But trying not to make a commotion,
Not to ruffle the waters,
Or splash the feathers of those around,
Which is useless I know,
My re-emergence is obvious,
For they stand on the shore,
All asking “What for?”
Not able to believe,
That I want nothing more than to stand by your side,
They’d be just as glad, to let me slide,
Back in,
They’d not begin to help me out,
But they’ll look to you,
And if you reach your hand to me,
They’ll grab on to you fast,
Until you at last,
Pull me to land,
Then they’ll stand and wait,
And expect me to answer.