So at the Cliffs of Moher I started to hike along the dangerous path, taking it slow, but when I was hit one way then the opposite by strong gusts of wind, I decided better of it, and went back, writing a limerick of what could have happened:

There once was a man from Seattle,
Against the winds of Moher he did battle,
From a sudden strong gust
Over the edge was he thrust,
On the rocks below his bones did shatter.

untitled (2016)

Why do I still love her
After all this time
With even a love and loss
Since that brief time with
Her
Knowing full well that
Being together
Could never work
Even casually
Failed in the end
For she could never understand
Me
As she paid no mind
Or ear
Only wanting her needs
Attended to
And I did listen
And I do understand
Which is all the more
Reason
But my stupid Heart
Will not listen to that
So on I go
Anguishing over the
Impossible

untitled (from last month)

Oh, pretty girl on the bus
Why do I make such
A fatuous fuss
Over a girl I don't know
I'm just an old poet
Watching a pretty girl
But you could not know it
As I look like any dirty old man

First stanza of a song that came to mind, but nothing more with it

Listen boy, you must understand
That you are not a man
And prob'ly never will be
Unless you learn to see
What truly makes a man

Mother, Mother

Mother, Mother
Bring me home
Is it not time?
Is
It
Not
Time?
I am so weary
I so want to sleep
And dream no more
Please release me
From all this confusion
I just want to rest
In your warm embrace
Mother, Mother
Please bring me home.

For all my young friends who struggle

If you can survive
Your youth
Without sacrificing
Your ideals
You can find
Contentment
Perhaps even a measure of
Happiness
So persevere
My children
And take strength
From your adversities
Stand tall
Against the weak-willed
Who try to drag you
Down
To their level
For they envy you
And would suck out
Your souls
Believe
In yourself
In your dreams
In your worth
The World
Needs you

untitled (1 Feb. '13)

Imprisoned by my Ego
I struggle to be free
My mind is oppressed
With Ego's nonsense
But how does one live without
In a madcap World
Full of drones and sheep
Power-mad and grovellers
And struggling masses
How does one release it
Back into the wild
An answer I've searched
Long for
Tho' in my youth
It had it's uses
To stave off ennui
Or stand against other
Bloated egos
It is only in middle-age
That I see what a quagmire
It truly is
And wish to be rid of it
Once and for all