It’s wonderful what you can do with time on your hands. I just became a senior member thank you very much. I sure do feel old as dirt today so that’s appropriate. How about another poem inspired by Criss’ antics last summer. Since, I can't format to save my life, you might want to go to Criss Creations and read the poem. It's easier to look at there.

My Life

A man awakened from his bed beaten and battered, feeling half dead.

“Why do I do this?” went round in his head.

“But wasn’t it thrilling ?” A little voice said.

This is the voice he hears late at night, calling him to plan his next feat of fright.

It’s dangerous. It’s crazy. But with all of his might,

He tries to stay focused, his mind flying like a kite.

“I think I have enough bruises. I think I have enough scars.

Sometimes people look at me like I’m from Mars.

Maybe I should have stuck to drums and guitars.”

Doubt creeps in but life goes on. He’s ready to go and his next day starts.

Craziness ensues and now he’s racing go carts.

He’s happy to do what he does best.

He creates art for the masses even if it smarts.

Copyright 2007