America
o’ america
what a place to be wealthy
too bad I am not
America
o’ america
what a place to be wealthy
too bad I am not
Homeward Bound
expat without home
I don’t belong here
but no place to go back to
I thought I had found my place
were I belonged, longed
but wasn’t there long
harder to be close
than to never love
or belong at all
Cecilia
cecilia always wore black
black thigh high boots
short skirts and bustiers
even though I am a leg man
and tried not to stare
i couldn’t help but catch a glimpse
she noticed and came over
planted one on me
black lipstick bruising my cheek
For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her
listening to simon and garfunkel
dreaming of running free through sunny woods
with fall colors along the quiet stream
Coulda Been Worse
coulda been worse, I suppose
after you left, I wept
not because you were gone
but because I didn’t care
not about you, or me, or anyone
I cried until I vomited
and got it all out
Dreaming
In my dreams
I can say what I think
vent my top off
tell the truth to those around me
and not give a damn
about any consequences
only in my dreams
and maybe
on an unknown blog
Giving Up
giving up, growing up
or maybe just getting older
settled in a comfortable routine
until real work becomes hard work
work, too hard to start now, but soon
soon I’ll get creative and make something
something greater than anything made before
but, when it is tomorrow, I haven’t gotten started
not sure I am ready to give up yet
but the inertia of rest is catching hold.
What is?
compact time and assignments due
get it done
at the end of roads
lovers mate
experimental cocktails
engaged to the numbness
the lesser minds sit
with their TV tans
literature can not entertain
and poetry must not be funny
work, sex, ignorance and boredom
what is there to do?
Sugar
brown sugar sandwiches
on fresh wonder bread
chased with a needle full of insulin
mmmm, dinner.
Sunday
I am still not used
to this new work week
starting on Sunday,
I want rest,
but instead,
work.