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I’m not crazy just a little unwell
My mind is not for rent, but it sure the **** is for sale
Make me an offer
One I can’t refuse
My mind is for sale
Gently abused
It comes with bipolar, schizophrenia too
It’s got a history,
Forever Feeling blue
how many times can I google The words
Ways to tie a noose
You could say I'm suicidal
Mental
Crazy as glue
I’ve got so many problems
Come on
I’ll sale it to you
It comes with roommates
And some ****** up points of view
I’ve got issues and voices too
There telling me it’s over
I’m as worthless as poo
Absolute Mush
My mind is nothing but goo
I’ll sell it cheap
Sale it to you
.I’ll make you an offer
Throw in my dignity too
I lost my mind
It’s for sale
Mass shootings of morality
Guns make the man
Massacre happily
Ignorance leading the blind
Another casualty
Johnny has issues
He’s got an AR15
Arm everyone!
(EUREKA!!!)
Because more guns are just what we need!!!!!
Who gives a **** about Johnny and his mental instability
He’s got a gun!
It’s semi-automatic
That’s all he’ll ever need
Semi-automatic
Everyone will bleed
A few hundred rounds
He kills responsibly
A few hundred rounds
Watch as the children bleed
Just another day in America
How many more guns do we need?
This poem is and attempt at channeling my anger towards guns and the guns rights lobbyists after recent mass shootings, specifically after Uvalde, Texas.
Never get to close at the zoo
A hippopotamus can step on your shoe
You could get bit by a rabid racoon
Become lunch for a lion or get **** on by a loon
the zebras are crazy they'll eat your baby well humming a tune
They’ll  make a dessert out of your lady  
And eat her with a spoon  

YES! You can die when you visit the zoo
So.............
Here’s my advice to you ***** the hippo the lion and the loon stay far away from the dangers that lurk inside of the zoo
 Aug 2023
Where Shelter
<>

”To dream by the oak and awake by the sea
when August has ripened and turned Jubilee
you must enter dominion of summer's delight
and live in the rapture of candescent light

Oh to live and to love one must first learn to kiss,  
the kinetics of summer, with eternal bliss.”


~from vienna bombardieri’s poem, “Kinetics Of Summer~
(with her kind permission)

<>

First verse pinpoints accurate, this,
my spot!
by oak and sea,
my precise longitude and latitude, where my summertime
eyes open to receive the gift of morning’s light, observing
the conjunction of land, hard by the sea, the land-ed avian gentry
and sea~sailor birds interacting, sharing the uprising currents,
for sport and observation, travel and pleasured sailing,
these “Masters of the Sky can fly for hours (or days), while barely flapping,” and this verse stuns, and
my shock,

at these, her words
my breathing is gasped and grasped
by oak and sea, for so it be,
this is where
my morning’s operatic scrum, ballet and dance hall hullabaloo,
my diurnal natural choreography is performed,
while slow sipping my very heated first coffee

it was here
that I learned to love more easily,
for the kinetics of summers trio of sun, sky, and moderate breezes,
lulled the turbulence of my disheartened lives into an easier
order, the world~surround, a living, breathing exercise that
warmed the spirit, cooled the soul, and spoke without uttering
a single word,
here dear person, is the where and the when,
the comfort of the natural-blanket
that enwraps, covers, cherishes the atmosphere entire,
containing the healing elixirs and protective ointments,
that remove the
plaque of life’s accumulated injuries, slights and scar tissue

simply put,
here I breath freely,
here I see with clarity
here the infusions of
living in nature, prolongs,
restore, remind, enliven
and enhances,
the intermixture of
body and soul

here in actual deed,
the kiss of summer bliss
upon
my tiring cell’s walls,
are resurrected even unto the nuclei,
by the warm breath of sun life and sun light,
and the breezes of salty sweet caramel air
and under their loving, combined-dominion
am I
resurrected and will yet sense,
one more Jubilee again
as I lay dreaming
by the oak and the sea…
great appreciation to Vienna B. for the beautiful poem she wrote,
and thanks for the inspiration!
Always be dreaming!
W.S.
 Aug 2023
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
46 years
What do you get
Your way past old
Your pants don’t seem to fit
Your always cold
Like day old bread
Your beginning to mold
Broken Hips
Brittle Bones
46 years
**** that’s old
You always got to have a reason to laugh, you’re never too old.
Remember when…..
Barefoot running on a blacktop street
Lazy days
Summer heat
Swimming pools
summer vacation
There is no school
12 years old
To be again
One more time till the summer ends
 Apr 2021
Lily Priest
You made me soft;
A Marshmallow drop that melted sweetness,
and tasted like nostalgia on your tongue
In that place where camps fires smoked and we smouldered,
Orange with a glow
that crackled envy,
I saw forever in those flames.
Just a little tiny taste of eternity
Reaching for me, as I reached for you.
I curled and crisped,
Dribbled into that abyss
and bubbled up in the heat.
The loves that last a summer and burn out quickly. Old memories and old campfires remain.
 Apr 2021
Tanya


Yesterday I cried to the moon
as she wiped my tears away
made my worries disappear
so I could sleep again.



Today I smile at the sun
and it shines back on me,
what a wonderful world
to be alive;
to be me.
As soon as you're born there’s no time at all
By the age of 15 your a kid no more
You’ll clean up their **** you’ll scrub the floor
You’ll hate your work  always longing for more
You’ll ***** so much never having no fun
You’ll hate your ******* boss and The person you’ve become
You’ll cuss his mother you’ll call her a *****
But your still  broke and forever poor
Every day the same as before
A working class hero is something to be
Just open your ears and listen to me
Your back will hurt and they’ll test your ***
If you don’t go to college you’ll flip burgers for free
They’ll bend you over forget vaseline

Your  boss is a **** and so much **** you’ll  have to clean
A working class hero is something to be
Yes
A working class hero is something to be
They like em young they like them free
Paid in peanuts or even magic beans
Your just a number you’ll always be
**** you’re living the American dream
A working class hero is something to be
You work till your dead with bruises on your knees
They’ll beat you down
Until 63
You’ll never retire
Retirements not free
You’ll spend your life working
There’s never any time for “me”
A working class hero is something to be
strive to be the best you can be
Just like Bill Gates  you’ve gotta aspire and dream  always remember never settle for mediocrity        
                          BECAUSE!!!!
A working class hero is something to be
life is what you make it take it from me
Set to the song working class hero by the Beatles. I came up with this one night filled with boredom on a Sunday, dreading going back to work Monday morning to be just another working class hero.
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