Trouble finds us all. Misfortune cannot be dodged. Karma seeks us out.

Words, what do they mean? Of time, mountains, and rivers Jon sings abstractly.

I've grown quite adept At preventing severe falls. Balance: my good friend.

Instrumental

Summers at the Lake: A teenage requirement. I seldom partook.

Ghost in the machine, Patterns from the soulless beast, Speaking unto us.

Is the really art? My muse cannot tell for sure; All the same to her.

Piltdown Man, a hoax? Don't buy it. He is alive In our midst today. Piltdown Man arrives In a black stretch limousine And grey flannel suit Piltdown Man survives (Anthropologists agree), Thwarts those who say "nay." Piltdown buys and sells…

Yesterday, today, Tomorrow, all illusions: Fractured bits of NOW.

Nothing matters more Than nothing, all adrift in A vast, endless void. A little ditty for the dark matter enthusiasts among you . . .

Time is relative. So, also, is space, says Al. Spacetime, your cousin. (Yep, you caught me--I said "time/space." It will be fixed.)

Instrumental

In fire or ice? How will the universe end? It ain't over yet!

This is not a haiku, Though at first you may think it is. The poet enjoys your confusion.

RPM Challenge: Twenty eight (nine) days to record Your next masterpiece!

Instrumental

A handmade go cart, Childhood prideful possession. No one to push me.

I am blooming late: Dreams from youth now realized. I suppose it's fate.

My groping hand shoved Away once more from delight-- Supple joys denied.

Sunlight streaming down, Gentle breeze disturbs new leaves, Spring's awakenings.