What I have is pretty obvious
You need only come and view
I'm Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,
and I'm crazier than you

Nothing more than a bundle of nerves,
and a vast sea of nutty habits
If my sickness took a form,
I swear I'd reach out and stab it

Checking lights, checking doors,
over and over to make sure they're locked
Better watch out at the window
Who knows? I might get stalked

What did I eat? Do you think it was poisoned?
What did I touch? What was it, then?
I think I'll go into the bathroom
and wash my hands all over again

I feel sick, perhaps I'm dying
I feel ill, my time is up
You have to clean it very neatly
or I won't drink from that cup

I'd better not, something might happen
I'd better not, my mind says no
I really would, but I just wouldn't
I really could, but I can't go

Please understand, it's not my doing
My own brain won't let me be
I would love to sit and chat,
but I'm no good with company

So I worry and I worry,
over old things and over new
But I'm Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
It's who I am and what I do

Written 2/23/06

He was all alone, but struggled on
The last man left on Earth
He pushed his legs, and forced his nerve,
and showed what he was worth

But no machine, or tool or craft,
could save him in these hours
The land had split, the seas had dried,
and brought down all the towers

So now he climbed, and staggered on,
to reach the top of the mountain
One final gaze, one final glance,
just one more drink from the fountain

He cut his hands, he bled from wounds,
the ground it shook and rattled
The sky turned red, the air grew thick,
but on and on he battled

He must get there. He must, he must
Failure simply held no reason
Surrendering, or giving up,
would be nothing short of treason

For the sake of the people, for the sake of the world,
this trip must be completed
He would not be stopped, or lose his way
This man would not be defeated

As he hurried on, the heavens tore
A meteor ripped through a cloud
Then came a second, and a third
Their screech horrid and loud

The rocks beneath him began to fall
He slipped but held his place
And on he went, with shattered feet,
to run this final race

At last he reached his sacred spot
His summit upon his hill
He'd spent his strength, he'd spent his breath
He had nothing left but will

And as he looked into the sky,
his eyes caught a sight most dire
An asteroid, heading straight for him,
full of death and flame and fire

But in this moment of his demise,
his courage refused to fold
He opened his mouth, and spoke the words
that should and must be told

He mentioned the world, and what it had been
All the good things and all the bad
He mentioned the forests, he mentioned the cities
What this planet, now gone, once had

He praised mankind, for all it was,
and regretted that it had died
It wasn't pretty, it wasn't perfect,
but Christ, at least it tried

He took his heart, and he took his soul,
and he merged them into one
He stood there alone, in the face of fate,
and he spoke until words were done

And then he sat, for his mind was clean,
and his mission had played its tune
He looked at the trees, and the valley below,
and all the rest that would die soon

And as the asteroid made full contact,
he had no fear, and had no doubt
For he had spoken the last great something,
and then the lights, they all went out

Written 4/04/06

I got myself a rabbit's foot,
and I kissed it twice for chance,
but when I asked her for a date,
she didn't give a second glance

I took a horseshoe that I found,
and I placed it on the wall,
but after filing my taxes,
the IRS gave me a call

I tossed some salt over my shoulder,
since I heard it brings good luck,
but then I saw my only car
on the back of a tow truck

I plucked myself a four-leaf clover,
and I pinned it to my shirt,
but the floor was rather slippery,
and I fell, and did it hurt!

I made a wish upon a star,
and I kept my fingers crossed,
but my goldfish up and died,
and my dog got itself lost

I went to see a gypsy lady,
and I had myself a reading,
but my new car has lousy brakes,
so I was ticketed for speeding

I caught myself a leprechaun,
and I asked him for some gold,
but leprechauns, they don't grant wishes
That's just a lie somebody told

So I bundled up my lucky charms,
and tossed them in the sea
I couldn't stand all that good luck
It simply wasn't good for me!

Written 4/04/06

                                        .

Written 4/14/06

Down the street he went,
his hands waving wildly above him
Hair all messed and matted
Crazed, like a lunatic

Shoes falling from his feet
Jacket split and frayed and ripped
Face with a beard deepest brown
Fingernails, full of the dirt

Seeing and hearing no one
Walking quickly in his direction
Going where nobody knows
Talking loudly to the empty air

Written 4/19/06

God is not one of us.
He cannot even pretend to be.
It is not a possible thing.
Not even for Him.

Jesus is not one of us,
if he was who he claimed to be.
He may have lived as a man,
but no man had the comfort he was given.

The angels are not our brothers.
Their route is easier than ours.
No winged host of heaven
has to face starvation and death.

They, all of them.
They are not of our kind.
They do not suffer as we do.
They can never understand.

What angel lost his splendid looks,
and shriveled under the pain of old age?
Jesus died, this is true,
but only after the Lord assured him.

Are they plagued with floods,
and heat and rain?
Does disease eat their bodies
and kill their children?

Do the Cherubs and Seraphim
bleed like us?
Do their hearts ache
with the agony of love unfulfilled?

Does God Himself know what it's like to never know?
Has His fate been pulled from His hands?
Has He ever been called insignificant?
Nothing more than dirt, and to dirt shall return?

I cannot be sure,
but I think they know not.
They cannot,
if reason holds court.

They have fact,
and we have faith.
Which is harder to hold onto,
and easier to lose?

We are unique in our tragedy.
We face a something they simply do not.
Uncertainty, self-doubt, loneliness.
No knowledge of what lies ahead.

We are better than the angels,
for we are expected to be.
We are judged, and if guilty,
we burn.

We stand before
the Almighty Himself.
Alone.
With no one to help us.

We live alone.
We die alone.
What we are
is just ourselves.

So you see,
God is not one of us.
If He was,
He would not be God.


Written 7/8/06

There's a sound, a mournful tune,
which calls when people leave too soon
It floats on high, but sinks so low,
and tells us that they have to go
It shakes the nerves, like saintly choir,
and brings us to the funeral pyre
Whenever you hear bagpipes play,
that means that someone died today

A teenage boy, too young to shave,
proved his worth by the life he gave
Caught in a hole, he bowed his head
The shrapnel fell, and he was dead
They wrote his mother, they told his dad
Your son gave all that he ever had
And so that's it, nothing more to say
Send him home, as the bagpipes play

A courageous nurse, pulling her weight
Got caught up in a war of hate
She healed the wounded, she prayed their prayers
She felt their pain, and heartache shared
But there was a mine, out on the road,
The jeep kept moving, and never slowed
And that was it, no more prayers to pray
Send her home, as the bagpipes play

A fighter pilot, brave as can be,
was flying over Italy
But anti-aircraft rocked his ride
His face all black, blood from his side
He landed her, that much is true,
but nothing else then he could do
One last breath, and there he'd stay
Still in the field, as bagpipes play

We know it now as history
Some call it fate, or meant to be
But if that lie is allowed to spread,
it matters not what's done and said
If we don't heed and we don't learn,
someday soon it'll be our turn
And then we'll see that we were wrong,
as we sit and listen to our song

There's a sound, a mournful tune,
which calls when people leave too soon
It floats on high, but sinks so low,
and tells us that we have to go
Whenever you hear bagpipes play,
that means that someone died today
When war and anger sets the pace,
we all have failed as a human race

Written 2/2/07