Why Do I Write?

Why do I write?
Why do my words seem so trite?
Do I write for some purpose?
Do I write to amuse?
One thing for sure is that I'm often confused
Do I write just for me or for somebody else?
Since it is late and I am rambling
I suppose that I will have to answer these questions
At some time in the future . . .

I Wish There Were No Mirrors

Recently, I turned the ripe old age of sixty-five
But I really don't feel it
At least very much of the time I don't
Unless you count in the morning
When I find that certain old man
Starring back at me from the mirror
Then, and only then do I feel my age
At least a little of it
Still, I don't feel like I'm sixty-five
Not in body or in my mind
Which makes me think and wish
That there was no such a thing
As mirrors . . .

Is There A Test?

Much has been written and said
About all of the evils of carnal man
So we as men do our best
To put carnal lusts and desires
Away from our hearts and minds
To let the carnal man's desires
Be silent and rest
But as things go
The carnality won't rest
Which for many this means
That we as carnal men
Have flunked the test
If, indeed, there is one?

The Untitled Post

The Untitled Post
Certainly a page forgotten
A page not written
For lack of inspiration
Maybe because of self pity
Or more likely just due to laziness
Which is the post probable
Resulting in not only a page forgotten
But also in a very blank page
Thus, an Untitled Post
Until now, when words that say nothing
Are finally written
But are unmemorable
Untitled or not

Out and In Once Again

Out right now
But wishing
I were in
Sitting here
Lusting
Which they say
Is a sin
But my lust
Is for you
But you lay asleep
So I am out
But wishing
I were in
And in
Very deep
But tomorrow
Will come
And I'll be in
Once again
Surely such desires
And nighttime
Contemplations
Can't be a sin
Or can they?

A Nighttime Jog Through My Blog

Late at night
I go jogging
Straight to my Blog
Letting my fingers
Do the jogging
While my mind
Goes wandering
My thoughts
Actually running
As they pickup speed
And finally end up
In a kaleidoscope
That can't be put into
Just mere words . . .