ON THE WAY TO JOY

ON THE WAY TO JOY

Wean yourself, my friend, from screaming,
Give yourself, my love, to dreaming.
Light a candle for each time smiles creep like panthers across your face.

Wean yourself, my friend, from sorrow,
Have some faith in a new tomorrow,
Make this world of demons your bauble and your toy.
The path is laid with ice and stones, on the way to joy.

First the icicles must break.
The winter must slip between the cracks of treacherous, slippery sidewalks.
The eyes must swim in their aqueous and vitreous humors
With a clear shine devoid of glaze.
Life through the microscope must come into focus
And the days must lose their mystic haze.

Next the tears must fall like syrup,
Down your hard Mount Rushmore face.
The cold must melt beneath the gun
Of a fire breathing, fighting sun.
The eyes must swim in the peril of the terrors they see.
The heart must warm to the pale, grim journey.
The mind must cradle the tragic in its bosom,
Compassion must live bold and free.

So wean yourself, my friend, from screaming,
Long enough to start your dreaming,
Light a candle for each time smiles creep like a sunrise across your face.
Wean yourself, my friend, from sorrow,
Turn your gaze toward tomorrow.
Make this world of demons your bauble and your toy.
The path is laid with ice and stones, on the way to joy.

-Bruce Potts
Revised Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

HERE COMES YOUR HAPPY

HERE COMES YOUR HAPPY

Here comes your happy you’ve been wanting from me,
I’m like a court jester and my goal is to please.
Open the flood gates, sunlight’s pouring through,
I’m weak and I’m weary but I can still dance for you.

Here comes the mother ship to sail on a rhyme.
To a gentler habitat, and a sunnier clime.
Close your eyes you might miss it, here’s your last warning,
My smile it is waning, may be gone by the morning.

Here comes your happy, here comes your dance.
Here comes the fever and the rush of romance.
One last fling of summer, one last walk upon the sand,
Hold on to your happy as long as you can.

I’m ripped apart, I’m wailing,
I slip and reach for the railing,
I tumble to the ocean,
Hole in this boat I am sailing.

But I’ll try to do it quietly,
Though I’d rather do it riotously,
But not at all righteously and not at all piously.
I am the perfect specimen,
A persnickety Parkinsonian.
And though I’m feeling crass and crappy,
Heaven forfend I should stomp on your happy.

I only want the shining sea,
To flail in lost and gallantly,
Its waves to roll right over me.
A desperate slave to the Deity.
I know he knows what’s best for me,
And not to go all soft and sappy,
Come get it quick, here comes your happy.

You try happy with a bounty on your head,
And you try joyous, with arms as stiff as lead.
Why, the most I can hope for is another day of breath,
And at the end, at the road’s final bend, a most delicious death.

For those of you in a mirthful mood,
Beware my hapless attitude,
Life is what you make it and I know it’s true for me,
I’ll make it to the pearly gates a long, long time before ye.
So this is alas, all the joy I can muster,
I’m filled to the brim with boisterous bluster.

I’d hum a hopeful number, but it would be off key.
And you would see right through my frank dishonesty.
But don’t go pout and don’t go faint.
I’ve plenty of rouge and a boatload of greasepaint.
Here comes your happy, with nary a complaint.

Here comes your happy you’ve been wanting from me.
Like a golden retriever my goal is to please.
Come and swim in this gooey pool of rhyme.
But do hurry in before you get slimed.

Come get your happy, like manure hides a pony,
This happy is here for a short time only,
Come now and jump into this raucous bale of hay.
And have a little fun with me, before I melt away.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

EVERY NOTE OF LIFE

EVERY NOTE OF LIFE
       (FOR KYLE)

Every note of life rings happy,
Every song of hope rings true,
Every line I write seems sappy,
All because of you.

Every taste of love is sweet.
Since you crossed my threshold.
Every kiss from you a treat,
That welcomes me into the fold.

You with your industrial strength vaccuum,
Your moist and succulent granite wipes.
You and your funny kitchen broom,
You are so totally my type.

Every dance of dreams is golden,
Since I found you years ago,
To you I am alas beholden,
And you melt my tears like winter snow.

Some day when I can't move at all,
And all my parts they slip and sag.
Just vaccuum me up without a thought,
Then empty and replace the bag.

Then put my ashes on the mantel,
Live pure and chaste the rest of your days.
For I'll be watching from my perch,
And I'll point out your errant ways.

I'll frown at every man you bring home,
Jinx your every affair,
Until a suitable period of mourning,
And then perhaps I shall not care.

For I want you always to be happy,
That your every song of hope ring true.
I want your love life to be sappy,
With your partner fine and new.

For you gave me love so sweet and tender,
Ever since you graced my stairs,
And you have stayed when hope was slender,
Chased away a world of cares.

You and your industrial vacuum,
You and your golf club shoe horn,
You whistle me a happy tune,
And lend a smile to every morn.

You have made this life worth living,
You and your heart of rugged steel.
And filled my soul with sweet thanksgiving,
My sure companion at the wheel.

You have filled my world with such confetti,
With the colors bright of every hue,
A heaping plate of pasta, a lasagna or spaghetti,
Seasoned with marinara or a dash of Ragu.

You are every breath I breathe,
Every hope to which I cleave.
Your body's like a county fair,
With cotton candy everywhere.

You are my one and only man,
My circus and my caravan.
My friends are all aghast to see,
That someone loves a freak like me.

As long as you stay, it's a happy day.
I'm like Lazarus raised from the dead.
You love with such ease a brain so diseased,
A horn on each side of my woebegone head.

Every love song has its story,
Every partnership its song,
Ours is one of lasting glory,
Since the day you came along.

Every note of life rings happy,
Every song of hope rings true.
Every line I write seems sappy,
All because of you.

-Bruce Potts
 Copyright 2012
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED