On People

Thereís nothing more Iíd like to do
Than just sit back and watch the sky
With her in my arms and the stars watching us
The soft grass as our bed, the warm air our blanket
We swiftly fall in a sleep that only nature intends
And nothing more is said or done
But who is she where is that who am I
Never in the sky do I see a piece for me
Never have I seen arms that looked good around me
Save one, save her, save in memories forever
But now its just I that stands alone
On a hard pavement
Looking over a cold night
At an empty sky
Listening more than Iíd like to do
Iíd like to just say the heck with you
I donít need nature anymore
Iím going inside to stay warm
Keep your green and air out there
Who needs these outdoor dreams
These fits of natural pleasures
When nature just wants to be just as bad as we are
Because She is moody like us
She has bad days and cusses too
She doesnít know what she wants either
Dreaming of dreams
When she stares into the sky
And sees a world
Where the trees sit on people

by Don Bernal

Mirror People

There might be nothing more in my brain than that one thing
That one thing Iíve been blamed for having in my mind all the time
So there might be a certain bounce my thoughts take when I think

There might be a certain shade not quite seen but not quite gray
So what if I have a one track mind
Thereís no fault in that, at least not to me, not in my eyes
I see I want I need
Survival at the very basics of life indeed

My one track may not make the grade
But itís mine to ride, I wish all day
And maybe I donít always ask for the moon
Maybe the sky is too high, but the sea too soon
There lies I in the grass without the care in the world
Asking myself if itís lovely over here or over her
Give it to me but I promise to give it back

I take what I can get and then I want some more
The single track can only go forward, only fast, maybe slow
No turning or breaking allowed
The single track in my head doesnít need a crowd

So they say Iím a little on the side of perverse
That I think things that shouldnít be thought
As though my thoughts turn into real words
They say you shouldnít think things like that
But they canít possibly see what I see
They merely see me looking back at them
They canít see what I see, then theyíd understand where this thought will end.

By Don Bernal

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