I wrote this awhile ago....just thought I would put it up. Greg...here is a sample of my writing.

I Have the Monday Night News Blues-K.P.C

I wonder what a man thinks of moments before he dies?

Does the earth stop somehow to memorialize the passing,

Silent and still, as if we all could pause and pay reverence for a life.

I imagine all of the signs of new life coming,

First cries, stretches in this new world, occupying space on this planet for the first time.

I wish we could usher in each other, so full of hope and potential to do something,

To be someone, to love.

And I am sitting here thinking about death lately as I calculate my own breaths

Gliding in and outside of me, and I don’t want to be on that other side

Don’t want to see that light yet, clinging on to my own piece of this planet,

Clinging to people that walk in and out of my minutes.

I’m tired of going to funerals and wakes, tired of saying sorry,

Because it’s not enough, but some moments are too much for words, and the spaces between people are filled with that feeling, sorrowful and confused as it may be,as we all sit and contemplate why something must end.

As I turned on the news tonight, cameras congregate in California as we are set to watch

Another man’s death, sanctioned by the state, sanitized by appellate courts.

And he was a bad man, but I am wondering about redemption these days because I can feel it and maybe he felt it, and perhaps other deaths don’t need to be memorialized in this way.

Maybe we all need to just stop for a minute, if only the world could hit the pause button for a moment. Maybe it would just take a moment, to look one another in the eye, to look at ourselves,

To stop ourselves before we tarnish our humanity with all of this hatred. And maybe it’s the Joan Baez in me, but I want to write a protest song. And maybe someone out there will listen.

I don’t have a guitar, all I have are my words.

Maybe they’ll travel around, these little insignificant letters on a paper,

Maybe we can all try to fill these pages.