a man who lies

a dishonest man is not a fun man
he'll break your heart at every turn
a dishonest man is not a fun man
he'll leave you to cry and burn

don't ever love a man untrue
don't love a man who lies to you
he'll break your heart at every turn
while in the dark you cry and burn

a man who lies is not your friend
his love is fickle, prone to bend
if he bends the truth at his whim
face his lies: stay away from him

save your heart for a man of gold
whose word is good, whose word is true
he's the man you can love 'til you're old
the kind of man who won't betray you

don't ever love a man untrue
don't love a man who lies to you
he'll break your heart at every turn
leaving you to cry and burn


(c)2008 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

What You Need

Tired of being alone, you open
your doors and invite people
to press their feet into your carpets,
drink wine, and talk
about politics, movie stars,
and the meaning of life.

Alone again, you muse
about how women and men
long for extended seasons of love

and how all you know of the world
is asses braying -- a lion's roar --
garlands celebrating your house

--that if your philosophy is skepticism,
no one can dispute the words you spread
out on the sand under the sun,
that if you fill cups with water
and feed hungry children,
who will deny you your ambition?

--that favors turn up in unexpected places. . .
You meet a man in the road
carrying luggage with foreign stickers,
and ask him how things explode,
to explain spontaneous combustion,

to carry your grocery bags
to speak plainly of plans,
to sit down on your sofa
to write a letter that talks
about
how hard it is to see
the obstacles that lie
in the desert ahead.

And then you stand near the desert
not knowing if the sun rises or sets,
knowing only the time to cover your face
from the drying winds.

It's sleep . . .

or . . .love . . . .

or . . . God . . .you need.


####
(c) 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

I changed the template, and that messed things up.  I will figure out how to repair it one of these days, but too busy at the moment to do so. You can still access everything, even if it's repeated.

Edit: Psssst. When you copy from Word to the publish page, please get rid of the crap code. Best Regards, Anthony.

In the still dead of night, a fear takes hold,

a suggestion of giving too much, then being left alone.

Time breaks your heart, and you grow cold.

 

How many times have you yearned to be bold

but afraid the cord will break and drop you with a moan.

In the dead still of night, a fear takes hold.

 

You travel to the days when they tried to mold

you, dissatisfied with your natural skin and bond.

Time breaks your heart, and you grow cold.

 

You relieve the threat of getting ironed into the fold

of a cloth without txture, music, or tone.

]In the dead still of night, a fear takes hold.

 

Night after night, the stories are told

about houses burning that you don’t own.

Time breaks your heart, and you grow cold.

 

You lose sight of the rainbow as the days unfold

counting the minutes you have yet on loan.

In the dead still of night, a fear takes hold.

Time breaks your heart, and you grow cold.

An acquaintance with privilege
The walls are so high
Opportunity is perennial
yet underground like a sigh

Acquaintance with privilege
Who truly are you?
Behind those walls, what do you do?
Or think about when moments are spare
Or minister to with strong feelings of care?

Acquaintance with privilege
What matters to you?
What are your priorities?
In your life, what's new?


(c) 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Shadows

though i hear your words
there is no action
so why should those words
mean anything to me?

you've held your secrets
you've hid in the shadows
you claim that's your right
and yes, yes it is

you can stay in the shadows
i'll not look for you there
nor will i care what you say

stay in the shadows
it's your right
but those shadows
will hide the jewels