david lessard Poems

christmas is a season of the heart,
a time to cherish family and friends;
a time to laugh and hug, or start,
to amplify the joy your prescense sends.
...

who can really say what's normal?
or call someone else insane?
who can read the damaged mind,
that works upon another plane?
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I will stay where stars can find me,
Where sun and shadow always play;
I will live in great agreement,
With contentment's golden ray.
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where is this lhing called love?
is it hiding in the shadows?
is it luking in the mist?
who will brave it's challenge?
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my God, I know your there...
I can hear you in the rain;
I can sense you in the air,
It balms my wired brain.
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tell me...the reason that your living,
tell me, the reason that you care;
tell me...if you've ever thought of giving,
then I will tell you, if I really care.
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if you could heal the world,
where would you start?
if you could save the deaths,
would you save them all, or just a part?
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to Ayn Rand, who taught me to be an individual,
before I realized I was one already,
to Robert Pirsig, who made rides on motorcycles,
a trip in itself,
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I will no longer know you by your name,
You've proved to me that it no longer matters;
You've caused me nothing but misery and shame,
Now I've respite against your mad and angry chatters.
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Let me hear you whisper my name,
Speak with the tongue of love,
Do not fear the touch of shame,
Your heart's pure as a dove.
...