The Mind Is Sorry The Body Suffers

To love you To love you is bliss Peaceful and secure, To have picked a flower Fragile and pure. To have won you is sublime No doubt to endure, To know you is a gift Transforming I’m sure. Seeing you naked Reflection from the mirror, Be ever so constant Be ever so near. Bus Ride Uptown, downtown, outside of town, Hurry and wait, early or late, piece of fruit in a rolling crate, Taking in a bus ride. ‘Tis a story to tell, the carriage fell, now push or pull that signal bell. Fee too much, might have to touch, smelly person with crutch, Taking in a bus ride. Crowded in front, move to rear, look straight ahead, my nervous dear. Might have to stand, hold buses hand, swaying side to side, Taking in a bus ride. See the sights, hear the fights, waiting at every stoplight. Starting to rain, what was your name? Coffee’s on me, After our bus ride. Can I Trust You, Daddy? You said I was the dumpling of your eye, And your pride and joy. I had regrets of being a girl; I wished I was a boy. All I wanted was to make you happy. Can I trust you, Daddy? When you would play with me I thought the fun was sincere. The way you touched was confusing, But I still loved you, Daddy Dear. All I wanted was to make you happy. Can I trust you, Daddy? You would look at me sweetly, Saying I was your princess. You wanted to show me something, But first we had to undress. All I wanted was to make you happy. Can I trust you, Daddy? My stomach tickled from the request, As you removed my blouse and skirt. Naked I shivered, a bewildered little girl, Wishing Mommy would come home from work. All I wanted was to make you happy. Can I trust you, Daddy? I trusted you with dolls, You fixed my red bike, You helped me with homework And chased monsters at night. Trust was gone; you raped my mind As you caressed my hair and fondled my behind. Howard Howard took a walk on Cemetery Lane Canopied by willows drenched by rain. It led him to plots where skeletons rest; Howard realized, he could be next. He viewed the headstones, colored gray Dates of birth, and that dismal day Formed in stone, the names appeared Young and old, loved ones dear. Flowers bow from weary head Afraid to stare at what is dead. Yet colors paint tranquil hope Of eternal bliss and how to cope. Howard tiptoed down the lane Feeling a touch, hearing his name. He spun around and stepped back, “Nothing there,” he fearfully laughed. He made haste on this eerie way, Hearing voices of threatening clouds say, “If you dare you’re welcome on Cemetery Lane.” Howard buttoned his coat as it began to rain. Yellow Rose They want to live in a story Where life is warm and bright, The anxious girlfriend lingers With dinner every night. She opens the door for him; He presents a yellow rose. She shrieks for a special vase, Searching high and low. After her discovery, She snuggles in his lap, Brushes dust off his shoulder, Removes his sweaty cap. She fingers soiled hair And kisses his Roman nose, Together they look at the vase That holds the yellow rose. They want to live in a story Where life is warm and bright, Dreams constantly linger, Making love every night.