What is wrong with this world?

Why does it have to be so round?

All these planets around us,

Are nothing but balls,

Just big, giant balls,

Except to God,

Who uses them to play sports with...

"Let's see...

Off the gates of heaven,

Off the crystal sea,

Off satan's head, between my legs,

Nothing but air."

That's why there are earthquakes.

Can you believe it?

Heaven has turned into

One big McDonald's commercial.

So I guess Saturn is a giant Big Mac,

And Pluto, a Chicken McNugget.

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Slowly falling...

Down...

Down...

Down...

Down a deep dark hole...

Knowing not where,

Or even how.

Only wishing for a bottom.

Sinking...

Sinking deep within...

No light.

Not even a crack

Like under a door.

Which way is it?

Up...

Down...

Left...

Right...

And where?

Yesterday...

Today...

Tomorrow...

Falling...

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Tomorrow-

The Man was going to be someone.

Tomorrow-

He was going to have it all:

The money and the fame.

Tomorrow-

His dreams were reality,

And his life was smooth.

Tomorrow-

He would do the deeds

He needed to do.

Tomorrow-

He would do his homework.

Tomorrow-

He would mow the lawn.

Tomorrow-

He could clean his room.

Tomorrow...

Tomorrow us here,

But where is the Man

The one who said he'd do it

Tomorrow-

He is trapped in

Yesterday...

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

My heart is in conflict.

My life is nothing but confusion.

What is this thing called love?

Or should I say where?

I have not yet found it.

I thought I knew love,

But I was wrong.

It was thrown out the door.

The one I thought I loved,

Didn't love me.

Nobody loves me.

Each day I feel only hatred.

Hate is a powerful feeling.

Well, I guess its power is on me.

It is a contagious disease,

And I caught it.

Now I can only remember,

The love I never had.

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Why does the sun set so quickly,

and the moon rise up to take it's place?

The days are going by.

Each day is a birthday candle,

lit, then blown out.

This second here now gone.

Why can't it stop just long enough

to grab hold of?

What is now is now then,

and what was then falls back to form now?

The days are circles.

Days to nights.

Nights to days.

Falling with each grain of sand

In the hour glass of life

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Rain falls down on my face.
As I look to the stars,
darkness covers my world.
I look for my identity.
Wind blows toward me blocking
my pathway to the future.
Then I look back and remember
all the moments we shared.

Now only a memory.
I remember your face.
Eyes sparkle blue
like the sun glistening off of the ocean.
Your smile makes the rain and wind die.
And the sun shines once more.
But in reality the rain is continuous
and endless like the stars in the sky.
It falls down hard,
and I drown in it.

Poetry © by Mark Ballard

Through the night it calls for me.
Haunting me.
Wanting me to grab hold.
It pulls me in through it's door.
I'm inside,Unsure of where.
But on a wall in front of me reads:
"You're in love"

Poetry © by Mark Ballard