Mr. Cinderella

This is yet another work found from the high school archives, preserved for posterity.

A Fairy Godmother is too convenient.
I have no coach to carry my dream girl as well
As no white tux with spads of glass to wear for her.
Midnight makes not a difference to this hour.
Now why do I decide to remain dead of cause
Which fills my bludgeon'd heart with motivation from
Fat chance to pursue eternal young soul for mine.
'Tis easy waiting for the badman to speak up
And wait for oppurtune time to come but around
While saving her from pain abus'd and slay such fiend
To take up hero's banner glorified in name
Such evil thoughts have I for this intention spurr'd
To dream of her suff'ring for sake of my own glor'
Will someone slay me 'n'order to be done with all
Great selfishness and pride of ego full of pain
Can I not wait another eternity grand
To just be glad to see her smil' and laugh this night
While standing wearing my white tux and spads of glass
And sitting upon the coach bench adjusting my cuffs.
The rain falls down and trickles pumpkin walls around.
Sit back and sigh for patience infinite divine
Sustains my soul in this endeavor I set on.
The Ball still goes and midnight ain't here yet for me.
And boy do I hope I will not be late for her.
She only needs to find her invitation card
Then we are off to the occasion ordain'd soon.
And King of her and I just finish'd his plan
So none of worries partake I to save for feast
Set forth for us to dine and merry joyfully.
And all the more of this in eternity liv'n.

"Rules on Women.........For Idiots!"

This is something I wrote way back in high school less out of charity and more out of pure frustration. It's amazing what I have learned since then. But I have preserved the original for posterity's sake (including all the misspelling).

1. Even when you are right, you are still wrong.
2. It is your fault, no matter what, it's your fault.
3. She is beautiful; tell her?!
4. Money is not an object.
5. Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.
6. If you were the sole ruler of the universe and the most handsome specimen in all of existence, in the end all of it should be treated as trivial.
7. Apologize when expected to.
8. Be afraid, be very afraid.
9. Love is commitment, GET IT!?!?!
10. It is about her.
11. If something sounds like a bad idea, it more than likely is.
12. If you're in it just for the pleasure, not only do you deserve to die but you will.
13. Pray, oh dear God, pray!
14. All women have something about them that makes them beautiful, make sure you know what it is.
15. No, she's not what you expected, love her anyways.
16. No, you're not her type, fix it or get over it.
17. Dating and breaking up all the time probably causes more pain than the long wait for Miss Right.
18. Forgiveness doesn't come easy, if at all.
19. Just for restatement: Love is commitment!
20. Honesty might not seem that great of a policy, but you're more likely to be alive afterwards.
21. Yes, you are an idiot, keep that in mind.
22. No part of a woman's body is simply your play thing....I mean that with a passion!!
23. Take a hint………..I don’t know! Find a way!
24. Never first assume she’s playing hard to get.
25. No it is not the same language.
26. Tell her that you love her already!!!
27. No, you cannot like two women at the same time. What the heck is wrong with you?!
28. Let her cuddle, physical affection is a good thing.
28.5. But not in public....PLEASE NO PDA!!!!
29. Show love includes thoughtful gift and thoughtful actions.
30. Love her as Christ loved the church. [Ephesians 5:25]
30.5. This entails a lot, including willingness to be tortured, rejected, and killed.
31. Very rarely is something not wrong; but show concern, not annoying fear.
32. Following these rules holds no guarantees.
33. Never be ashamed of her.
34. Did I mention that love is commitment? Well, it is!
35. Read and remember 1 Corinthians 13's definition of love.
36. Put the toilet seat back down.
37. Just listen. Yes, that's a difficult concept to grasp, but you must. Just listen.
38. Being tough and a bully and being truly macho are different in actuality.
39. You are out to win over her heart, not simply impress her.
40. Be prepared.

A list of Vows.

I make no promise to remove thy suffering, only to share it.
I make no promise to never hurt thee, only to forgive you.
I make no promise to grant thee happiness, only sorrow and joy.
I make no promise to heal thee, only to share your wounds.
I make no promise to raise thee up, only to catch you when you fall.
I make no promise to worship thy words and deeds, only to love thee forever.

Can't Reach That

There once was a lady in a tower
Rising high, made rose petals and feathers.
She danced with the clouds,
Sung with birds aloud,
And nay never once fell to the nethers.

Good Morning.

Well look at there out in the eastern shelf
It's Morning Sun, I do say so myself

She's on a path overhead I hears so
To cast out Lord Darkness til tomorrow.

Good morning to ya, M'Lady Sunshine
Have a good morning if you be so kind

A morning free of mourning and dreary
And a day full of joy, love so deary

Morning Sun's warmer than she's was early,
Wishing M'Lady good morning, surely.

She's Not Lost, Merely Adrift.

Once I gazed on the open harbor
And saw my ship run aground on the sand.
She had lost her way away from the shore
And I saw my crew aboard deck, All hands!

She forgot her crew, she forgot her wind,
And the current carried her carefully.
She had lost her name, she had lost her love
But the Sea did not forget this ferry.

I think it gladdening to see the beach
Had taken the beating from her bow's ram.
For she may had been lost, never in reach,
Had the ocean not saved my dear lost lamb.

On Belittled Faith

I traded in my guitar for a voice, my speakers for ears,
and my poster for a piece of timber.
But apparently you did not see the difference it hinders.
I found an old cloak to shroud my shirts, and banner to place on my door.
I smiled when I would shout, laughed when I would pout,
and hugged what I would abhor.

You say there is a man on a distant shore
Who has cast a spell on the island.
I hear he is a fine man with a long grey beard
And drinks a toast to old Ireland.

You say there sits a pontifical old coot
Who is sad, sorted, and dull.
I hear he likes cats, jokes, and good beer
And is merely doing a job most dreadful

You say there once was a man from the desert
Or was it olive fields? I cannot recall really
He was to be kind, gentle, and soft
And all the things we find easy.

I hear He died once, for something He said
It could not have been very pleasant
He was beaten, bruised, betrayed, and belittled
Both by priests, princes, and peasants.

You say I am a fool, of this we agree
I am dumb, dirty, and detestable, mind you.
That is precisely why I follow that Man,
His pontiff, His staff, and His crew.

For He is my King who loved me life
And just as well loved me in His last
He may have been nice, He may have been swell
But He is risen and the very stars He passed.

Confession Again.

In silence does he come unto thy feet
For his own words cannot be held to truth.
He weeps and shudders, and falls to his knees,

Kneeling and groveling, fears of thy Truth.

Eyes gaze downward as his head lowers more

And his sins so recent, the blood still warm.

How can thou forgivest this very one

Who brings thee only this scourge of thine harm.

I confess to Thee that it was but I
Who hath whipped and strucketh thee just now.
If it was not for my loss of control
I would only stuck thee once for the show.

It is my fault, I am to blame for this.
But Thou dost place a hand upon my sorrow.
I am Thine to crush or bless at Thy whim.

But I fear I shall strike Thee tomorrow.

Needing Help's a Bitch.

So Sympathy ain't my specialty
and don't come crying to this empt' well.
Let none who thirst come down o'er hill trodd'nly
to fetch some waters for their cattle

Prideful bulls and content cows that go gnaw.
one tip of one teen prank they fall and groan
wailing, moaning about the clear cut lawn
because they fail to stand up on their own.

Expect me to help you, now then do you?
By heav'n I hope I get a tip for work
But I guess some righteous help is ado
and pacing and watching makes me a jerk

I so do care, I bleed for you, honest
You see the tears on my coat collar back?
I shed those for you but did not near fest
because then self control I'd surely lack.

I'll help you up if you will stride forward
or 'tleast stand on your own a little while
So either march and cross your river Jord'n
Or lie and drown your mis'ry in denile.

After-Grad Party Goodbye.

(This one is about six years old, so it is very ancient and not a good reflection of my current form or mood.)

Music and cheers flutters to our ears,
Drinks pass and pour to our mouths,
Food and treates fall to our stomachs,
Words and laughs escape from our lips,


We all dwell on our lives here
We all remember the good ol' days
We all want to stay here
We all want to see our friends each day
We all sit here and hold on dearly
We all stand around and not take a step forward


Who'd blame us for this nostalgia?
Not I, nor he, nor she.
But are we not meant to live
Are we not meant to love, to learn, to keep moving.
We have finished, we have a new course to run.
We will miss eachother dearly, but life moves on.


Let us never forget, but we cannot dwell too long.
It's over, it's gone, time to leave senior high.
Our new lives are waiting, take hold, grab on.
Let us all, for the last time, say goodbye.

An Unexpected Visitor

The view of silken layer of white ice
Can give a comfort in a chilling glance
That autos and alleys been cover'd twice
By the first Throne of Heaven's favor'd chance

Lunar mistress be my light this ev'ning.
Lead our fishers, foragers, freemen.
For the Winter Rose knows not her going.
Was it not ago 'way with her we send?

Wolves howl your long call to her arms of love,
Uninvited she is but still a guest
Gather round the fires under snow clouds above.
Let her tell of her early return jest.

She pulls over her blanket, tucks me in,
The story of Winter's King she does tell.
But before I drift, in my bed thinking,
"Why of all times is it winter'n April?"

Bitter sweet victory.

Let us make our stand on this field of heaps
And let the bodies find graves 'neath our steps.
And raise the banners high, comrades! Onward!
Let us make war upon the Prideful Dead!

So is the heroes calling, and ever
Is it heeded for the masses fortune.
But after four die and three left half-dead,
Our hero sets himself 'side from winners.

He moves onward, westward, and upward now,
Prospecting a home to lay and live/die.
No lost lover to share each sunset with.
Just another mission to sacrifice.

What possesses a soul to take this sword?
The answer is simple, and difficult.
For a man will gladly hang by his hands
So that none others will ever have to.

Ode to Raphael's Aide, and the like.

Please just let me wonder onward by'n by,
Eastward beyond the scarr'd woods'n cold seashore
That raft of ice or steed of strength to try
And ride to rising red sun set before.

I recall rememb'ring readings of rights
And other such fanciful fairy things.
But fairies fare not fairly those blood nights
Jerusalem had more welcoming kings.

To the East an East Star Luminates Dawn.
The journey's end to bring forth to adieu.
Let me go and sing the sorrowful song
It will only last for a mass or two.

Recall me well, in song or in sadness
Or satire, something a bit more bright
Just don't cry too long, I am not long gone
For heaven will be a guest by tonight.

Time to Pay Up.

There sounds a low thunder in the distance
Upon the sands of wanderers and kings.
Shaking fault-line, phone-tower, tax-cars,
And all the stable, stone, and faithful things.

There's a place called Market that's seen better days,
And a square in town where markets must close,
For we must fear the loss of numbers green-gold.
"Forget the lightning. What threat does it pose?"

The habits of the healthy heal not home.
And the homeless go marching: conscripting.
Here come Homeless Habits with healing hearts
"Alms for poor? For yourselves?" They cry: begging.

There shines a dim lightning beyond the sea,
To brighten stairs of saw-dust and silver.
The Kingdom demands taxes: blood and sweat.
And debts best be payed or justice delivered.

Enough with the Nostalgia.

I remember coffee shops, coble stones, and cigarrettes passed around.
An occasional tear, and occasional stare, and laughs on and on.

Hang around some hang-outs we did and we lived,
We were young once and simply loved and laughed.

Do you remember me? Do I know you?
Let me set a catch-up date or two.

We ran down College Ave, blissful and regretful.
And then rode down College Highway, distant and painful.

Where once was a coffee mug now rests a beer tankard,
Where once was a cigarrette now rests a pipe.
Where once I thought of bands, jokes, and pranks,
Now all left is memories and stale tunes.

And I look up in joy for tomorrow.
Because I am delusional I guess.
But I did not expect such good times before.
When I had to leave my Kindergarten class.