D.N. Rebb

Left my home town just before six am
The right thumb was my only ride
Someone finally stopped, thank you ma'am
Heading to the city that has nothin' to hide
...

I once wanted it all
But now search no more
As I let inner peace soar
And watch others now crawl
...

No choice on being born, no pick on the given scene
Hidden skills discovered on life's journey; the world, too, unaware
As the years go by, for some, death's a reward, or perhaps a refreshment
Reminisce running bare through the field, never alone though
...

I thought the path would lead to a more familiar purpose
Wandering in silence; alone
I used to enjoy the soundtrack of the birds,
The freshness of the sun,
...

I write really bad poetry
Someone called me dilettante
No idea what that even meant
So I had looked it up to see
...

With eyes wide open
Leering the acoustical ceiling
Unable to communicate
Counting every hole in each tile
...

Your laces are untied
You could trip n' fall
And hurt yourself
So why not just
...

You're like a poem waiting to be written
Like a luscious fruit, yet not forbidden
A golden statue for all to worship
A fine speckle of yellow gold stirred up
...

PART 1 - THE HOSPITAL ROOM
The room, consumed in mournful silence
Labored breathing echoes between the concrete walls
Out in the lobby, plenty of action, in here it feels timeless
...

Is your sky still blue,
Mr. President?
Telling nonsense truth
Of fake news you dreamt
...

Going through life like a calm breeze
Balancing struggles to keep things at ease
Achieving little goals for us to appease
Finding lost time to continue to breathe
...

I talk to myself,
But whisper back
Actually,
The inner voice whispers back
...

But, but, but why?
Why, Daddy, why?
But, but, but why?
Why, Mommy, why?
...

Following the direction of the howling wind,
Guiding to meet that destiny.
Though the end has already been written.
Fearful exposed realism erupting while venturing too far from the marked path.
...

The room is silent
Apart from
The sound of the ticking clock
It's two a.m.
...

After the first day of spring,
In beautiful Williamsville
How many years has it been?
Since those pale grey eyes instilled
...

Blue collar blues
Only in love with you
Could I ever afford your dues?
If only I knew
...

Mister policeman has been taught not to be a racist
Blind hatred was the lesson on the third day he missed
His pale white skin restricts him from certain neighborhoods
Membership to the club that meets monthly in the woods
...

A moment of truth revealing acknowledgement of possible knowledge.
The fear of naked honesty held in the hands of the unbeknownst.
Fearing exposure in the revelation of shared opposite passions.
This beauty within cannot withstand the loss from previous generations.
...

Thanks for the advice, Charles
Writing makes anyone question their morals
Composing poetry is a bit of an addiction
Penning in verse separates real facts from fiction
...