Foolish Things






F O O L I S H   T H I N G S




Though we make

many mistakes,

we are but fools for these few things –





Dreams of the Heart


Of these things can no man find full understanding

and only fools can fully follow after them.


-mbl  9/26/99



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The Joy In This Journey






And the joy in this journey

is to watch with great wonder

as my tribe all about me’s consumed

and see in their fire

the unspeakable desire

of a Bride as she calls for her Groom



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Only Time







O N L Y    T I M E


Only time

only time

will tell

If what you’ve sewn will grow

and only time

will tell

if its true –

that which you thought you knew

only time

will tell

all the secrets that you know

of yourself

and other

and those wounds that you won’t show

only time

will tell

the destination of this trip

through hell and fire hath gone this ship

only time

will tell

who will live and who will die

who will laugh and who will cry

those who’ll suffer – those who’ll strengthen

in the time of their affliction

others driven to distraction

to run from truth stranger that fiction

shall I names here boldly mention?

it’s not for me to ever tattle

for there’s hell to pay, I hear the rattle

of a last breath drawn before a battle

Yes, another’s voice shall tell the tale

listen to it now, truth shall prevail

and only time

only time

will tell

the tale


012400 mbl

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Of Love and Broken Hearts


O F    L O V E    A N D

B R O K E N    H E A R T S



why must we do these things

why must we choose

why must we follow love

if only then to lose


why must we love someone

why must we care

why must our hearts be broken

as always -so unfair


why must i think of you

why must i cry

why must my members tremble

even at your sigh


why must i ask these questions

why must i seek

why must i share my heart

and not be less discrete


why must we all be such fools

why must we fall

why must we be so lonely

with no one left to call


(mbl  12.17.00)



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How to Become a Really Good Cook




H  O  W

T  O

B  E  C  O  M  E


R  E  A  L  L  Y

G  O  O  D

C  O  O  K



you take a pen

and some paper if you may

take careful notes

watch close

and maybe then

you catch the magic

that there be

in the cook

as she works

in her kitchen

ever busy as a bee


She takes corn

that was robbed from the cob

and stews it slow

as if it were a magic show

and can you see

amid the steam

and in confusion that there be

true magic

and not like on TV



A cu


green as it can be



as A goes through to C

Juicy meats

and other tasty treats

fill us up

(As we engage in gluttony)

oh, what else

there is to see

in the kitchen

of Cory C.


She takes wine

from the vine

a treat yes so divine

along with pork

don’t you know

she’s not a dork

that girl can cook

the smell’s the hook

that gets you going

looking smellin’

to see if it is ready

or if she’s  yellin’

Out! Out! the kitchens mine!

don’t pout

your snout

will see

something good a tastin’ soon

from your itchen little spoon

gayronteed it’l be

from the kitchen of cory C.



Marvel How

the sausage,

is covered



and ask yourself

the question

if you think it be


or is it talent

that you see

hustling in the kitchen

(Don’t you know this meal is B______!)

She’s the Cook

Don’t  you read no goofy book

Just watch and see

maybe your be as good

well see

cuz she’s the one

the only

the girl

Cory C.





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For Jenni





F  O  R    J  E  N  N  I




do you know

all the faces that the moon can make

on a summer’s night


and did you know

all the winks you get

when you sing

to a starry night

if you do it

just right


because they know

and they see you as you are

just a girl

in a big made-up goofy world


but can you see

that they know more than you think

about the way

that things are fashioned from the brink

of what we know

and what we always try to think

of what is

should be

and could be

you see


they know

as they were placed there in the sky

by his hands

and they pass us every night

riding high


and yes they see

those same hands from up above

holding you

just as gently as a dove





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Colors of these Wings



C O L O R S   O F    T H E S E    W I N G S




Hey you,

why do you have this affect on me?

Why do I think of you in my daydreams?


Is it because of your eyes?

Or is the dimple in your chin.

Maybe the lines that grace your face when you smile.


I am a fool.

The king of them all.

For I hope in foolish things.

You deserve more than me

and I less then you.

Does anybody deserve anybody anymore?


When I look at you

my chest quivers

what is happening to me?

why did I fall like this?

why did I fall like this?

why did I fall like this?


Am I sick?

Or am I feeble-minded?

When you walk by – I smell your fragrance,

and I grow dizzy by it.


When you embrace me –

I melt.

And why?

I cannot explain it.


It is just that way.

Perhaps I will run to the desert and hide there,

where no one will find me.

But I cannot escape the thoughts of you.


I am so immature –

When Will I grow up.

When will I be invulnerable?

When will I get over you?


The highlight of a day –

is a word from you.

The highlight of a week –

a conversation.


Yes I am a man,

and you are a woman.

And I, I am not yet dead –

to these things.


I am dying though!

Please let it happen now!

Free me! But it is so slow.

It takes so much time.

And there seems so little purpose in it all.


Why do you even talk to me?

Why do you even smile at me – in passing?

It was so much easier before –

when you didn’t…


I am a little boy in a man’s body.

I want to grow up.

I want to grow up.

I want to grow up .


I can’t just yet.

I must bear yet more foolish emotions


I wish you did have favor for me, though…


I wouldn’t have to die.

As I am going to.

As I am going to.

As I am going to.


What if you did?

What if I was man enough to confront you,

and there was a glimmer of it there:

Favor for me in your eyes.

What if I was both a coward, and a fool,

and a man.

Surely the latter is worst.


To be an man,

and –

Feel this way.

Feel this way.

Feel this way.


See here,

these are my wings –

and for these fleeting moments –

I fly around before you,

seven years I was cocooned   –

and now I am escaped.

I am ashamed of my colors.

And I want to hide them from you.

But I am not strong enough,

and again

and again

and again

I spread them and say,

are these not my wings?

do they not beat only for you?

And then I run and hide them again –

and curse them.

For they are so ugly.


I walk into this desert now.

Let me die here.

Let this all end.

I am so tired.

I am so tired.

I am so tired.





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Starry Night







Stary night, by this light see –

the burden that My heart does need.


Another one I love tonight,

and favor is not found in sight –


of these brown eyes as they turn blue.

With constant thoughts that drift to you.


Long years I wait, with patients sit,

hoping that by some odd chance’s whit –


I could find favor in eyes that yet don’t see –

the fuller dimensions of this heart in me.


And so I walk through another day –

and scheme to work yet another way.


In blossoms of red a weary heart goes on,

Until this battle of fools is won.



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Secret Garden





Surly, I see what must be a majestic, hidden, secret garden; a dwelling place tucked behind carved stone walls – walls that hide so much of what surely no man hath ever seen before. And I – I in foolish hope, awaiting in ever-eager anticipation for that solitary second that might  ever happen in a given day: that I might catch a glimpse, a fleeting image riding on a beam of sunlight as it pierces through a crack in this imposing door; to for an instant see the glories that lay hidden within. Your words the sunlight – your honestly the crack, and my – what a beautiful garden you are my friend.




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God, Can You Hear Me?






G O D,
M E ?




Can you hear me?

Vanquished in this mortal shell I cry:




Where are you?

I see your fingerprint in the waves of the hurricane.

Your features in a celestial sky.

The valleys – yes, they are your footprints.

But where are you?



And where are found your courts?

I find them not.

No marble halls of stone or Gold have my travels revealed.


I don’t Understand.

Why you do it this way.

It hurts!

Please! Stop!

Isn’t there a better way?

Confusion – you beset my mind with it.

You do not make sense.




Forgive Me.

For I am but a stupid fool.

To Even think I could understand you.

Flesh to comprehend Spirit – impossible.




I look past my vanities.

For I exercise futilities.

To ever believe I could find where you are.

As if there is a place you’re not.


What a waste of time to think…..

how lost to be in searching……


You Understand me

And You know where I am.


Though I know not you the same.







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