They Don’t Have Men

They don’t have men
Down at the newspaper anymore
Dusty ages disagree
They’ve forever closed the door

They’re hiding the truth
In the time of an information superhighway
Where they locked away Dignity
They’re not telling, they won’t say

We’re on our own out here alone
You think we’re lost & have much to fear
Stranded under this desert sky
Be still thy soul, for I was born out here

The Wind Howling At Midnight

 

The wind howling at midnight
Broken windows – open to the outside air
Exposed to the communal by-passer
Her soul had fallen into disrepair
Fatigue & listless emotions manifesting
Immune to careless compliments
Time to pause & regroup her focus
Happiness born from common sense