I like to go fast--
 I guess I'm a racist

And short form sadistic
 Makes me a sadist

A stater of diction:
 A simple dictator

And I cater to hats
 Which makes me a hater

A modest worder that's guilty of murder
With thoughtful effort that comes off as theft
Absolute sureness has made me absurder
And I've always slept in, so inept

Now I'll never claim to finding my fame
By faking the aim of my mind
But a bind made of blunders just isn't the same
As saying I go about blind

Sure I'm naive and often a nob
By the name of my jive and also my job
But a trivial clue isn't true

And the bite that you itch is a son of a bitch
But the yak in your shoe isn't you

So please understand-- it's the standard of wonder
To understate blindness and call it a blunder
Then find it was destiny's hand

For being destitute and tiny may cause us to stumble
But to fumble through hell is how we get humble
And standing your ground can be grand

So listen to the glow as it glistens
Through that damn outer debt they call doubt
Insults and derision are hurtful incisions
But visions of misery give us our missions
And fighting's what life is-- a bout.

And I don’t wanna say that my world went and whirled-ed
Or I hurled up the papers I thought were my job
and all that I worked for seemed homeless and bunk

I don’t wanna say that she’s rare as a mystic set
watercrest opal twilight autumn-dressed goddess-blessing
pressed upon my heart caressing every part she’s still undressing
Shining in my arms~*

And I don’t wanna say
That somewhere… there might be a way
To love and still be free

It seems like my doors have all been unlocked…
So why does she feel like a key?

Thinking happens quietly
Not in words and rambles
Spewing like a knotted growth of tangled vines and brambles

Forest walls of any size will always block the view
Thinking should be clear blue skies that help us see right through

But days we find we’re wandering
Through all that old growth pondering
Lost in dark and twisting paths
of branching thoughts in plots of massive
tangled knots we take in passive
nods of all we’re squandering

Yet sometimes the breeze
In the canopy trees
Makes holes in the ceiling we knew
And a pillar of light
Of clear, simple sight
Comes shining down out of the blue

And we stand in this silence
Looking up at this hole
As this beacon of light seems to shine on our soul
And it melts all the brambles away
And we see that the simplest way out of the trees
Is to follow the lightness of day

Thinking isn’t all these words
We circle in our tangled minds
It’s clearing all the growth away
So the truth can simply shine~~*