God's own baker

It really does not feel like Christmas
Till I get to mom's house...

It's a miracle what she can do
With just butter, sugar and nuts.
Sometimes she puts some chocolate in.
Tastes so good it's almost a sin.

Sometimes she does it all natural.
Absolutely pure. Nothing artificial.
There is nothing fake in the things she bakes.
And she adds love in heaps.

Mom is an artist the way she juxtaposes.
Everything she bakes comes out roses.
Often she uses fruit; her apple crisp is the ultimate truth.
The truth is her love which she piles on by the spoonful.

She is a baker for the ages.
She is a painter at her palette.
Every work is perfection.
Every bite straight from heaven.

God's own baker makes the blessings.
Your mouth and your heart confirm.
If you do not see the beauty,
You have so much to learn.

 I'm looking for my beloved revolutionary sweetheart

I'm looking for my beloved revolutionary sweetheart.
I'm looking for my warrior princess.
I want a woman to disagree with me all the time.
I want a woman of passion, not a woman of fashion.

I'm going to look until eternity.
I'm going to look until my eyes can't see.
The woman of my dreams may not be who she seems.
The woman of my dreams will never leave.

I'm an angry righteous freak.
Less direct, more oblique.
Yes the sun revolves around me.
But that's not how it always has to be.

I'm looking for my better half.
A crazy woman who makes me laugh.
I don't mind if I'm misunderstood.
But she won't ever say that I'm no good.

 Love is the path of least resistance

I shed that skin.
But now there's a new sin I'm in.
I keep looking for diamonds
In a pile of dung.
But that's how the west was won.

Every conquest is fleeting.
Every attempt self-defeating.
But I keep taking that shot.
Give it everything I've got.
True to my nature.

I don't have a clue
How to make you true.
But I'm desperate so to do.
Who the hell are you?
God only knows.

 Principles

Principles are what guide me
Principles are what undo me.
The man who wrote everything
Should be fair was an imbecile.

No principle guides life
But get what you can before you die.
No principle guides human motivation
Besides I screw you before you screw me.

I try to find some master plan.
Some underlying principle.
To bolster morality.
But it eludes me.

But if there is no underlying principle,
We have nothing. So we have to take it on faith
It must be there, even though it is fucking invisible.

It is all pretty empty at least from what I see.
Or maybe it is just a truly foreign language
That we will never translate.
But we have to keep on trying.
Or get a better decoder.

Dilemna?

There is a dilemma in whether we should meet
When I might rather stay in and be discreet.
And knowing I have already chosen.
Although I am  plagued with supposin.

Why do I often beat the retreat,
Knowing my victory will not be sweet?
Because although I made a choice,
I do not know if it was my own true voice.

Etymology offers no apology.
Because as it turns out,
The word itself is in doubt.

Some say it's 'dilemna', while others say 'dilemma.'
Potato, po-tahh-toh.
Who knows where the river flows?
Persona non grata.

Beauty and tragedy are one

Beauty and tragedy are one.
I heard about this girl.
I met her but she wasn't part of my world.
The girl could not eat.
I still don't understand this thing.

Why does beauty become a curse?
Why do some women choose
To deny themselves sustenance?
When we live in a world of abundance.
In the God-blessed United States.

What are the warning signs
That you don't want to be alive?
She had a heart attack
Because there was something she lacked.
The desire for food was not in her.

Goddamn it's a shame.
And I don't know who to blame.
I'm pretty sure it's the media.
And glossy magazines.
But I still don't dig that scene.

I am baffled by this girl's pain.
I have my own but it's not the same.
What is the pressure that laid her down?
It's a goddamned tragedy
That beauty has to be about shame.

 

ToGetHer

Your breasts are perfection.
And a bounty from God.
You are the light that shines upon
My head and my heart.

We have never met.
But I will never forget
Our first caress.
Such a work of art you are.

You are the rarest beauty
That God has ever made.
If you will be my bride,
My plans will be laid.

I am lonely and shipwrecked.
We really must connect.
Or I will be full of regret.
I think you are my muse.

There is only time to lose.
We can't turn it back.
Maybe you are the piece that I lack.
Or maybe you will give me a heart attack.

Goddamn it's frustrating
That I have been waiting,
Yet don't know if it's for you.
But I don't know what else to do.