If I Knew I Couldn’t Fail

If I knew I couldn’t fail,
I’d soar up to the sky
I’d set out on adventures
I would not fear to fly

If I knew I couldn’t fail
I’d take another chance
I’d find myself a new love
I’d even learn to dance

If I knew I couldn’t fail
I’d have a new career
I’d make new discoveries
My life would hold no fear

But alas, I’m all too human
And errors I will make
And that’s no reason not to try
So new thirsts I will slake

I’ll try my wings tomorrow
I’ll learn new things today
I may fail, but I will try
And that is still okay



If I could write larger stories
About spacemen and aliens and such
I’d write about a first contact
Where everything seems to go much

Better than we could hope for
We’d learn to be loving and kind
Our world would be a better place
A better home for all mankind

If I could write larger stories
I’d write about the end of war
And hunger and illness and sadness
How there’d be no need for more

Constant help from all our brothers
And sisters to help us to mend
Our wounds and we’d all have our homes
Struggles for power would end

But I only write very small stories
About life and loving and friends
I talk of my cats and their foibles
And of all the stuff that sends

My brain to such crazy places
That my sanity seems to be gone
Clearly I need to write larger
And happier tales from now on


In the end
It didn’t matter
Who was right
And who was wrong
They all died
After battle
None were left
To write their song

Of the glory
Of their deeds
Or the rightness
Of their beliefs
All were gone
And all were equal
None were left
To show their grief

No side won
And no side lost
Both were gone
To lie in graves
Shall we learn
From their mistakes
And choose instead
Our world to save

My job

My ideal job
Would be to read
And read and read
All day

There’d be no need
To talk or work
My books would be
My pay

But then at night
I’d need to sleep
And books don’t make
A bed

So now I think
My perfect job
Is sleep, and sleep

What If?

I am afraid of being found out.

I’m afraid that people won’t like me if they discover the real me.

I’m afraid that I’ll be judged lacking. That people will realize that I’m not normal.

I’m afraid I’ll be shunned.

And then, on good days, I think, “what’s the worst that could happen?” And I realize that it truly doesn’t matter.

I am who I am.

And someday I’ll discover myself.


I write the most when I actually make myself sit down to do so.

And when I’m inspired.

It’s not always easy, but I believe it is a muscle to be exercised. It becomes stiff with misuse, and easier to flex when used daily.

Hence these writing exercises, some of which may turn into songs.


I like to spend my time worrying. At least that’s what it seems like, some days.

I worry about starting things, because I might get them wrong. I worry about not having enough time to do all the things I “should” do, and all the things I want to do.

And, of course, one cancels out the other.