Buy Me a Buddha

I have everything
and nothing in life
Just one more thing
Buy me a Buddha

I can’t stop wanting
till I have it all
Everything there is
Buy me a Buddha

Kid in a candy store, maybe
Or just a man pushing sixty
holding onto his life
Please, buy me a Buddha

Happiness used to visit more often
when I was young
I beg you please
Buy me a Buddha

When you have everything else
that money can buy
There’s just one thing left
Buy me a Buddha

Call It What You Like

You must be brave enough to be yourself
And never for a moment, look back
Wishing you were something different
Than who you are

We’re not the same
From day to day
Not even
Moment by moment

We’re not the same
You and me
Thee and Thou
Something then or now

You must be brave enough
To transcend all the bullshit
All the nonsense you think, read, and see
Transcend it all

I can’t help you
To be yourself
You can’t help me
To be who I am

But we can help each other
With reassurances
Undeniably why there are mirrors
Mire reflective moments in time, you and me

The Sweet Smell of Life

Sometimes we try too hard
To be something more, or different than we are

In our haste to grow up
We grow old before our time

We lose track of ourselves–
Our real reason for being

Sometimes it takes an unexpected reminder
To make us realize
We are who we are
And the more we fight that
Our spirit dies

As a boy, baseball was important to me
In part, because Dad enjoyed it
But also because baseball is life–
Running bases, trying to get home safe

A couple years ago
My younger brother Doug helped me reconnect with something
I had lost some fifty years ago–
My Gus Bell-autographed MacGregor baseball glove
My first, the only one I really loved

Tears filled my eyes
When I opened the box
And saw it lying folded over–
Just as I left it so many years ago

My first instinct was to smell the leather
Its sweet scent reignited memories
Of the forever dusty baseball field in Martins Ferry
Early morning practices
Anxious game days
So much more

It changed me
Not baseball, or the glove
Not even my brother’s thoughtfulness
But the sweet smell of life