I'm bored in a meeting - so lets start a game
To spark conversation, disrupt and cast blame.
Search for contention in turning a phrase
Impute hidden meaning to a word someone says.
No matter the purpose, or just what they meant
Argue at length implied messages sent.
Worked up to a lather, sparks hot in the air
Now sit back and watch wile the others despair.

I don't think that I'd like to live there,
Too many steps to the top.
No corners to park naughty children,
A light that will never stop.

Fog that rolls in calls for non-pointed horns,
Warns sailors but wakes lookers on.
Sea-spray and salt coat both precious and poor,
corroding and rusting 'till gone.

A lighthouse in name, it's massive and tall,
Concrete and steel aren't light.
Not fit for a family to call it a home,
A house where I'll not spend a night.

No switch to flip nor wire nor plug
Rays of brightest white  
Like clockworks made precise and sure
each day o'rcomes the night

Inventions to enrich our lives,
fill every corner, nook, and crack,
Screens that glow and flash and shift,
compute, process, display and track.

Hush the screaming lights and sounds,
seek refuge in some quiet place,
Loose the chains that tie the mind,
Take on a calmer slower pace.

The rhyming star is a fickle friend,
With mystic rays that shimmer and bend,  
Around and past the would be poet,
With fullest heart though none may know it.

Visions of beauty and scenes in his mind,
Are trapped without outlet and won't be defined,
'Till lamely he finds a flavorless phrase,
Lost in a labyrinthian linguistic maze. 

"I was not born under a rhyming star",
He howls in despair to the silence afar,
An echo returns with taunting and spite,
So he sets down his pen and calls it a night.

The truth will set you free they say,
Give you strength and show the way.
Help you stand when threats come strong,
Make clear the route to carry on.

Sometimes it's true that truth is kind,
Healing hands and heart and mind.
But all too oft it carries weight,
Truths that grind, and crush, and grate.

A knowledge of a harsher sort,
Breaks through to light, a sharp retort.
The darkened hearts that plot and plan,
To hurt, oppress, and exploit man.

Patterns followed o'er again,
Truth and right now labeled sin.
Done before, the outcome's clear,
But boldly on, 

Large even from an airplane window seen, 
sixty miles away.
Built to send people where nobody's been,
the vacuum of space. 

Buses could park on the stripes of the flag,
if it laid down.
A symbol of pride, a nation's great brag,
look what we did.

Here they built monsters of metal and flame,
they tore at the air.
Hyperbole claimed we would conquer and tame,
the vastness of space.

Pushing man and machine to limits then past,
They risked all to explore.
Lionized pilots who flew fearless and fast,
some died on the way.

The men are gone -