The Poet Enters

Many of us live with the belief that eventually good people will have good things happen; maybe this isn't always true.

What is more important, the memory or the feeling?

Sometimes you have to stand in the gap; and sometimes you need to find a replacement.

Sometimes you have to smile; but only if they make you.

You played me like you play guitar; very poorly, and for far too long.

Sometimes a song on the radio can be like a cool glass of water on a hot day; refreshing for all of the right reasons.

People are always yelling about paperwork this, and paperwork that; I have yet to see paper do any work.

People hide behind walls; behind walls, which are supposed to protect feelings, feelings meant to be exposed.

I am fully motivated; often for the totally wrong reasons.

Sometimes the silence between us is a magical moment; sometimes, most times, it's not.

With respect towards the matter of credit for accomplishments; I could always use a little more than I currently seem to own.

Regarding the story of your life: Some people will never like your story, and you can't re-write it for everyone you meet.

Somethings don't make any sense, and some things don't even try to.

Sometimes I wonder why I try to explain; it's not like the agreement will always be worth the effort.

The world isn't always a bad place; I guess that depends on your location.

How do you restore a relationship to a better place, when it's always going forward?

Were the good times as good as we remember; if so, I really miss them more.

Life is not a dream, and I am not rowing down a stream before learning how to swim.

The world is a big, big place, with lots of small, small people.

Sometimes you find answers to all of your questions, and you regret ever locating them.

Sunlight feels good on the skin, and it feels better in the heart.

Reality makes everything feel so real.

Sometimes we cry when we are really happy; but mostly we cry because we are really, really sad.

All relationships will not workout, but unfortunately, some will.

I can only be responsible for the things which I understand; but what if what I understand changes?

I would like to have heroes, but they have to be perfect; correct?

Just because I use it everyday, why does that mean I need lessons?

I need to be a product of success, but of what success, and what products?

It's my time, and I am ready; I just don't know for what I am ready.

Get up an dance, sit down and cry. Do whatever you are told, and never ask why.

I wish I could back and retrieve all of my failed years; but have I learned enough to live them better?