The Reckoning

Harassing a woman is awful.
And believe it or not it's not lawful.
The gropers are paying.
'Cause the mobs are a-baying.
Damn sure they'll be getting their claws full.

The Reactionary

Some creatures have eyes on the side of their head

And others have eyes that look forward.

I, on the other hand, hark to what's dead,

To a past that's already occurred.

With longing I pine for the sweetness that's gone

For the flavor that's turned into dust.

Others want iron that's spotless and strong

While I like mine covered in rust.

Jangled Noise

Where there is random noise there can be no rhythm.
It's almost spiteful how shrieks and unrepentant humming
Put to death anything unified or hopeful.
Nothing against noise.  No, boisterous sound can carry a family
Or even a nation.
But both are wearied to frustration,
Deadened by tuneless tintabulation.
If you must make your voice heard, make it sweet
Give a man's ears something good to eat.
Make it potatoes or creme brulee,
But don't ruin a God-given day.

A Red Door

A red door is... striking.
A red door is bold.

A red door will beckon you

In from the cold.

A red door gets opened

When you've got the key.

But it isn't much help

When the key is with me.

A red door takes mail

On the days that it comes,

And sometimes graffiti

When found in the slums.

But this door is special,

Whate'er it appears,

Because it's my Granny's

And has been for years.