Given the wind I’d fill the sails
Leave for our port of Abigail
Changing our hearts with love to give
Pardon all sins without the sieve
Free of guilty rifts and driven
Sins thrown in the sea and forgiven
Strive against impulse from within
Sailing over the sea of sins
Abigail is our home port choice
Our women see us and rejoice
At home, not lonely or missed
Repentant again sins dismissed?
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/31
Our lunch hour talks seemed to be getting through
He’s dangerous beating her with bamboo
Her stories were gut wrenching getting beat
Now bruises showing, no longer discrete
Her scarf blew to me as she ran to him
I watched her back heave being a beat victim
I kept the scarf because it had her scent
They ran away in spite of his treatment
Watching them go was harder than I thought
The story was on page three, showed she fought
Her fear finally overcame his snare
By killing him with his gun on a dare
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/28
Posted in Video
Tagged Diamond Rio, In God We Still Trust, Patriotic, Something To Consider
I wander alone down this road
My cart has one wheel that wobbles
What belongs to me is what you see
Don’t try to take it from me or squabble
Coming to a broken concrete bridge
The only way to get past the river
Up ahead a clown jumped up and down
Showing it’s safe but the river made him shiver
What do you see when you read
Two men at their end of their future
I see what happens when two men don’t heed
Who have nothing to show for their adventures
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/23
The house has gotten bigger since you left
The one thing you couldn’t get was my echo
You took everything else through theft
Taking my heart and leaving my chest hollow
The love poems we read say we have to pay
Or have the universe unbalanced
How can something made from earth and clay
Cause universal turmoil and violence
It’s only love and that is all it takes
It’s a force that binds us all together
When one web is broken it vibrates
The vibration lasts forever
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/22
The days spent alone grows
Trampled red ribbons and bows
But for gathering crows
She was the last to know
Knock knocking filled my ears
Broken boxes smudged tears
Showing she’s welcome here
Not alone with her fears
Once a year we commune
Colorful wrapping strewn
Hovering loose balloons
Showing we’ll see her soon
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/20
Alabaster goddess, small fissures did display
Suspended in an expectant posture, very poignant this way
Her hands outstretched and forward as if grasping for someone
Cheekbones raised I see a tear reflecting in the sun
Ghost of once a goddess, larger fissures now displayed
Seasons, decades swirling round, longer these last days
The last sail gone for so long with many setting suns
All that’s left is silence where their last words were all but sung
©2010-2011 Michael Yost
Posted in Poetry
The two faces of these words hesitate
Causing confusion that molds our fate
Putting one foot in, pulling one foot out
Walking between, my love and our sake
Would you care if our scales were even
Trying to save our relationship from within
Too many times we promised to change
Knowing we couldn’t but hoping we would
Walking past our obelisks crumbling down
Undermining each other’s tainted crowns
Not wanting to change for either’s egos
Bystanders laughing at the clowns
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/17
*Not the song
Ashes scattered around the ashtray
Wine class rolling round on the wood floor
Bubble head swiveling on her shoulders
She’s looking for her glass and wants more
Sees the empties pounds for another
One’s too much and twenty not enough
Last call already shouted it’s over
We grab her swinging arms needing cuffs
The dimmer lights turned up are blinding
Well on her way feeling conviction
Toes dragging across the dirty floor
Giving into fears and addiction
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/15
*Not the song
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Addiction, Blinded by the Light, Bubble Head, Conviction, Fears, Last Call
First summer Saturday syncs us all
Making all our problems appear small
Gain and reinforce family allies
And distance ourselves to those who lie
Looking at this with wide open eyes
Reunions are more than warm apple pie
Jealousy of those who have succeeded
Their harvest came because they seeded
Jack stole the plum pie and thought it was good
We knew the truth because Jack’s a hood
Some of the family were plum glum
Forgiving Jack thence love overcomes
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/13
Why do you call my name again
Leaving me on that curb before
You’re pregnant when we abstained
It’s not ours why do you implore
Having no interest in me
Our time together was my loss
Now you have a problem you plea
Hanging me to another cross
My advice was tell your parents
I had nothing else but contempt
Your problem would be transparent
And time would show I was exempt
Why you called I’ll never know now
Being a thousand miles away
At least now I can disavow
Leaving her on the curb today
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/12
Posted in Poetry
Tagged Abstained, Another Cross, Kicked to the Curb, Loss Love, Parents, Pregnant
The drain devours my shed
Waking to pillow head
The mirror confirms worst
Premature loss and cursed
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/11
Summer heats over a quiet afternoon
In the fall when love fell, azaleas bloomed
The mere mention of love and there it was,
The black box with a ceramic white dove.
Her perfumes‘ persistence mocks
After having opened the box
With the broken red lock.
Clasping hands with a swing and a strut;
Wanting of emotion, an empty gut.
Silliness of newness, cutting edge of loss
Feelings and images faded, losing their gloss.
At least allow peace or recover some chains
Let me have something tangible to gain
Her perfume still mocks
Hovering over the box
With the broken red lock
Let the dove take wing, carry me away;
Hear my pleas now, give me some say!
Suddenly in the heavens looking down from above
Released from its grip, at last peace from the dove.
Her perfume no longer mocked
Having tossed away the box
With the broken red…
View original post 6 more words
Posted in Poetry
Stretching my definitions
My echoes fading away
All the parade bands deafen
Shrugging off what hurts today
Knowing the ugly ending
Waiting for your heroes crash
Even if you hated watching
You pick up the parade’s trash
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/10
Summer sun hides behind the low clouds
Wicking clothes sucks the mist, sweat and bug splat’s
Rehashing my dreams suspended above me
And where I’m at in two minutes flat
Never been this close as four minutes bled
I was learning to fly over Route Twelve
Strange, my bike going rider less up ahead
Still flying low as the little children delve
With past family and friends hovering
Over for six minutes and six feet deep
Gravity has me down as if to say
Time to go home and not to make a Beep
© 2013 Michael Yost 07/10
Michael's Lair 