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Lonely Man

August 9, 2016

Super moon Tampa in the backfground 3Lonely man

You’re anybody, who has a story,
You’re the blood and guts, but no glory.
You’re the play, that’s no longer afloat,
You’re the poem, you never wrote.
You’re the crowd, in every room,
The conversation that always spells doom.
You’re the fly, that’s always unzipped,
The greeting card, that’s always skipped.

Lonely man,
You know who I am.
Labor of love,
Fit hand and glove.
Win the lottery office pool?
No?  Who said you were the fool!

Your drink is empty, nothing’s on the table,
Miguel your waiter, sells only by the label.
So you dance to music, that never ends,
And toast Bartender Mike, your new best friend.
You’ve become the sweat on everyone’s brow.
You’re the answer to the question, “No, not now!”
You’re the best friend, you’ll never have,
You’re the rub, without the salve.

Lonely man,
You know who I am.
Labor of love,
Hand and glove.
Johnny Cochran’s not your deal,
You’ll never win on your appeal.

You’re someone’s smile, without a face,
You’re the awkward, in an embrace.
You’re the gaze, behind an empty stare,
You’re the voice, that isn’t there.
You’re the cold pavement, under bare feet,
You’re the toothless grin, that never eats.
So when you dare ask for a slice of life,
You’re the one without the knife.

Lonely man,
You know who I am.
Labor of love,
Hand and glove.
If you ever want the moon,
You’ll need to bring your own silver spoon.

And when your chapter is finally read,
You’ll already know, what they’ve said,
A ripple in a lake, chased by a breeze.
A footprint in the sand, swept by a wave.
Silence falls on deaf ears, it’s for the best,
You’re just a moment in time, like all the rest.


We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering – there are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love – these are what we stay alive for. – Robin Williams

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