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For Those Who Enjoy Happy Poems

For Those Who Enjoy Happy Poems

It takes a hell
for a man
to see what heaven
may be

And it takes a
hell of a man
to get there...

With his eyes to the sky,
you may pity the guy;
but not I, not I ---
His tears don't make me cry

All the sad songs and all
the poetry writ
gives me a strength,
even if I'm the one
writing it

So much woe that I tow
we'll never know
where all the woe's ever
gone and went...
(And we'll probably never even know
what all this woe's meant)

But I can tell ya something:
life's nothing
without every one of these moments

Momma's gotta baby
but can't pay the rent
She's feelin' like an angel that's
not so

Hearing her song, I see
what heaven's meant
She's alive
and survives
and has
ever since
And that's why...
her tears don't make me cry

To laugh
in the face
of Destiny
and spit in the face of Fate
To allow the bad life has to offer
to make you feel
so great

I hear the blues
in an old,
rundown bar (It -
like you and I - survive)
No wonder the deathly wail
of this old bluesman
makes me feel alive!

But misunderstood,
my poetry could
never feel
what I may feel,
never say what I may say,
and never
actually convey
how I live
and how I die

I fail although
I do my best
I write,
then bleed the rest
With the hell I know
inside my chest,
I say
“My wings use storms to fly;

and somehow,
for some strange reason...
my tears don't make me cry.”