Showing posts with label archive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label archive. Show all posts

Sunday, June 28, 2020

Wishful . . .


The black coffee’s aroma hangs thick like a cloud every morning.
He sorts through paisleys and patterns and stripes on the door,
As he lifts up a vain little finger to stifle the blood
From a close shave in the battle of life.
The late night crowd’s returning from an all night bout of drinking
While he’s all-consumed by grand delusions also known as wishful thinking.

His star quality seems to escape everyone
Who would be in position to help him.
Still he goes off each day in anticipation of all
Of the thrill and the joy that one feels
When he’s making interment arrangements.
He’s misunderstood.
A book a song a TV sitcom part you’d miss for blinking
Or a winning lotto ticket in his hand are only wishful thinking.

Oh its nobody’s fault but his own.
So few offers come over the phone.
But he still perseveres faces up to his fears
That can cloud the intentions and bring on the tears.

Still his spirits get lower each day that this program’s protracted.
Moment by moment it takes all he has to go on.
But he just grits his teeth, charges in, slings the arrows back into
The face of outrageous misguided conclusions.
And even though he’ll never die a pauper or a rich king,
He’s just not content to spend his time on anything but wishful thinking.

Oh the groceries and the bills aren’t paid by talking or by drinking.
So he just resumes the grind lacklusterly and does his wishful thinking.



Wishful Thinking
©1992 Raymond M. Jozwiak
(an 'oldie' pulled from the archives for a rough performance)



Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Fine . . .

. . . line

It’s a fine line I walk
Between here and insanity
It’s a fine line
Like a good wine some care
And some love must be taken and given
Like a good wine
I don’t know where it’s gonna come from
I only know that when it gets here
I may care or I may not
It just depends upon which side
Of the line that I’m on

When it’s my time I want
To be free of these cares and these worries
When it’s my time
I don’t when that’s gonna happen
Not really sure I want it happening
Any time real soon
It just depends upon which seat
That I take in the room

Do I really know what I’m asking?
You tell me I’m thinking too much
How can someone question the feelings
You haven’t allowed them to touch?

When will I find the things
That I’ve searched all this valuable time for?
When will I find
Just a thin dime will I take
For a glimpse of the depths of my soul
Just a thin dime
It’s not exorbitant to ask for
It’s one small price to have to pay
To get a piece of someone’s life
A good investment I can say
Because I know that it’s mine
It’s a fine line


Fine Line

©2006 Raymond M. Jozwiak
(from the archives)



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