boulder

I will push this boulder

to the top of the hill

even if it takes all day

maybe I can do it

I know that I will

if somebody shows me the way

maybe use a pick-up

or some kind of truck

plus a measure or two

of fortune's good luck

I can do it

I know I can

the future is now

the time is at hand

I will push this boulder

all the way down

when the time is right

maybe late afternoon

right before

the day turns into the night

it just takes some doing

not too much force

just determination

to follow the course

of events that I

may never understand

the future is now

the time is at hand

I will push this boulder

as far as it goes

I am not pretending

I can't move mountains

but you know I can try

to make it to the ending

one more push

I stretch and I strain

trying to hurry

so I won't be to blame

I'll see that boulder

go back to the land

the future is now

the time is at hand

what I can do

it's all so confusing

this life that I live

I don't know who to condemn

and who to forgive

the questions are present

they're hanging around

but answers are hiding

nowhere to be found

          all of my problems

          are old and brand new

          but still I keep trying

          it's what I can do

my thoughts are uneven

my green lights are red

it's morning but I

want to go back to bed

I overthink everything

I worry and fret

but more and more trouble

is all that I get

          I started out happy

          and ended up blue

          but still I keep trying

          it's what I can do

all of these words

that I write on the page

will disappear

with the coming of age

but still they keep coming

they don't know when to stop

if I keep trying maybe

I'll end up on top

          this life I've been living

          is pulling me through

          but still I keep trying

          it's what I can do

novel

I have spent my life

writing this novel

which no one will read

but that's okay

still I keep working

with all of these words

I organize letters

till there's something to say

this is what I do

I sit down and type

and I do my best

I write what I know

a story about

a man and his future

where nothing happens

and nowhere to go

there are no happy endings

try as I might

no matter what happens

conflict occurs

action verbs

lost in translation

sentences broken

spelling insecure

and still I write

even though you won't read it

God only knows

if I'll ever be through

but I will continue

writing this story

because that is all

I know how to do

just another day

it's the Fourth of July

and it's just another day

I'm at home alone

and there's nothing good to say

folks are grilling hot dogs

and drinking ice cold beer

but there's nothing fun to eat

in my refrigerator here

I suppose I could do something

but I'm not going to right now

I'm just going to feel bad

'cause depression's taught me how

people eat potato salad

and party with their friends

me, I'm just waiting

for this day to end

give me Easter Sunday

give me Christmas day

give me any other

of this world's holidays

I hate being alone

when everybody's having fun

but for me, days of fiendship

have been here and done

it's the Fourth of July

and it's just another day

there's nothing here to do

and nothing left to say

you all have a good time

I'm staying here at home

having yet another holiday

I have to spend alone

breathing

I listen to my breathing
I want to feel calm

but trouble is inside me

ticking like a bomb

I can feel it coming

like a crest upon a wave

why do my emotions

have to misbehave

I listen for the footsteps

walking down the hall

but all I hear is silence

there is no sound at all

I always live in conflict

it fits me like a glove

preventing me from pleasure

separating me from love

so, where then do I wander

what is there to see

I feel unhappiness brewing

deep inside of me

time to sound the warning

it is time now not to feel

any way I turn now

is an unfair deal

I listen to my breathing

hoping that it helps

me to find a reason

to take care of myself

I can feel it coming

there is nothing I can do

in my time of darkness

all I seek is you

Cezanne's blues

turpentine and linseed oil

brushes made of horsehair

the smell of oil paints

take control of the air

so many colors to decide on

so many textures to choose

so much living goes into

looking at Cezanne's blues

the mountains and the ocean

the fields and the sky

the houses in the valley

all live in Cezanne's eyes

all beauty is a mystery

in rich and tender hues

you can see the world go by

when you look at Cezanne's blues

my hands are misshapen 

they do not know to touch

my fingers are all awkward

I cannot hold a brush

but my heart can see the power

it knows it cannot lose

as I wonder at the world

I see in Cezanne's blues

progress is slow (rewrite 1)

progress is slow

it barely even moves

it flows like molten lava

one drop at a time

progress is slow

it never improves

as it rises to the surface

of the back of your mind

trouble, on the other hand,

thinks it can outsmart us

but it only works to part us

in ways we can't ignore

but progress is slow

it barely knows we're here

it's like we've disappeared

while stll looking for more

progress is slow

you hardly can see it

hiding in the distance

nearly out of sight

progress is slow

you can try to free it

as it pushes us onward

into the light

trouble, on the other hand,

keeps us on the ground

neither safe nor sound

it holds us in its grasp

but progress is slow

it fools us with its hiding

but all along it's deciding

that in time trouble will pass

progress is slow

but I can feel it breathing

out from the shadows

to show its face

progress is slow

so you start to believing

it is there in the future

of the human race

progtress is slow