Ramblings Poem by Robert L. Bixler III

Delight in the sight of the perfect fight
End the trend only to find a friend.
Handle any scandal with a burning candle
Quite the night that she showed you the light.

Mime the time you lost that dime
Feel the pin without sin.
Tender the fender and mend the sender
For we all score when the core transcends the war.

Quiet the riot without making her say it.
Take those words that make you shake
Heave no words you would rather leave than receive.
Speak words to strengthen the weak and multiply the meek

Tie your lies to your own thighs
Be free to love, charge a fee to those who hate thee.
Turn away from the scorn before it starts to burn.
Restrain from all pain, just dance in the rain.