If only I could collect the rain,
Put it in a jar
And take it to God.

Then I would say,
Here, I found your tears,
They made the soil breath.


-- Eleanor

A river of lies flows from the White House.
Watch as the river widens each day.
Watch as it gains speed and momentum
And all credibility flows away.

The reasons for firing James Comey,
FBI Director, are scattered:
Because of Comey's treatment of Clinton's
Emails? Really, as if that mattered.

Then it was a DoJ
Suggestion that Trump was acting upon,
Adding another story to the
Great pretense phenomenon.

Next in an interview,
Trump sang another song--
That he had really wanted to fire
James Comey all along.

A man whom Trump had praised in the past
Was simply a "showboat," a "grandstander,"
Who'd lost control of the FBI.
Watch the river of lies meander.

We have heard a different story
Having to do with loyalty--
That Comey was fired because he wouldn't
Bow down before the royalty.

Just mention "Putin," "Russia," "hacking,"
"Collusion," and yes, "investigation,"
And the "You're fired!" president
Acts out of desperation.

Has Trump considered telling the truth?
He and his team should give it a try.
If they are going to make up stories,
At least they ought to stick to one lie.

- by Bob B (5-12-17)

How pretty the skin on the worthless *******
With hair that caged the essence of strawberries
What a soul that burns electric in the common neon night!
But all he can see are her legs.

I guess those are good too.

Alone in a bed
With arms wrapped around me.
Real, transparent arms.
The ghost of a memory hugging me.
Imaginary friend, where did you go?
You used to be real.
But what is real?
You’re here now, in my bed.
I still taste your cologne with my nose,
The smell of your last cigarette in my hair.
How did I get here?
Walking through this life alone,
You promised you’d always be here.
I can feel you still playing with my hair,
A hand caressing my knee.
You slayed dragons in my mind,
Set up fortresses that even make God proud.
But still.
The moonlight is my companion.
Wind the only whisper I hear.
Yet you are here
As I lay
Alone in a bed.

Brittle bones and dulcet tones
Of monitors beeping their last.
In a sunny room with a sinless floor
White sheets of purest perfection
Cover the only blemish
In view of Eden.
A casket of flesh hangs in tranquility
Over the hollow structure of mud and man.
Angels blink and do not see
The raging lacerations cradling
And caressing the final pieces of life
In her.
Her visage drapes to silence the mind
And will never be held again.
The winter of her absence is already felt
As her hands drift away like smoke.
Never took more than was hers,
Now this takes all that ever touched her.
The payment for a well-lived life is love
Hers wandering after the dulcet tones
Do cease.

Everything you say and do,
I still resent you.
And from my heart of hearts,
I wish your horrid, drawn out death
       the easiest of starts.
Your lips breed putrid cologne
That rots me from the cores of bone.
Your presence drags on my flesh to make it crawl
Enough that i'd rather bang my head against the wall.
My poetry even suffers from this burning hate
And leaves it to a simple, rhyming fate.
I crossed the line from passion and grown to detest
The time spent with you, which began so blest.
My mind is bare and uncomplicated thanks to you
So just remember,
Everything you say and do,
I still deplore, detest, and loathe
Myself.

Sleep, little girl, where the nerve endings died,
And pain no longer finds you.
In the sun’s thoughtless light your heels are too high
With your chest falling away from your body.
It’s on the edge between dreams and waking
The shore of feeling and thought
That those gentle storms kick and shake you.
Don’t you see it? Sitting wide
A hole with a mouth to swallow you.
It’s the place where the glass kept cutting and cutting,
Where fires burned and the salt ocean burned worse.
Memories forgot about it and they’ll forget you too,
In the place where all nerve endings died,
Where the little girl forgot she cried
And drowned without pain to alarm her.

It’s breaking and it’s lifting
But **** the alcohol helps
When the cold taps your shoulders
And clutches more than yourself
I could stand in darkness for these next few days
But the fear of trying
Oh, it’s gone and passed away.
I know the end, know the struggle
I’ve cried many a night
But the dreams that still wake me
I’ll be **** sure the win this knight is mine.

And I stretch and I breathe and how the mistakes help
With the twisting and turning beyond the letters
Into the soul.
Into the soul I delve.

Let it be dramatic, you’ve thrown bigger things away
In the rotten garbage I thought I’d remain
But I rose to the light, rose to Heaven above
Not because I’m some silver winged dove but because

Because, because, oh friend, I don’t remember where I belong
In the nights with the cold tapping and the street clapping
Oh, I know this worn song.

It used to press me from bitten skin
And torn flesh
And forgotten blood,
…my God, what did I give?

I gave everything I had and still he took more
From the liquid release I REMEMBER.
I KNOW.
I SEE.
I FEEL, my Lord, I feel what’s been stolen

And in the brisk night
Between the twilight
With the wind aloud
Slapping streets proud
I have been wasted
My soul, been tasted.

But tonight I belong to myself and no more
With the sunlight scratching deeply
In a drunken, morning chore.

The light that seeps, sunlight is absent
How this soul glitters in the blurry wasted seconds
And I know, I know, that some poor soul will hear my cry
Instead of pity I’ll find the dreams of another kind
Together we’ll rise in the frosted air of light

As I sing drunken lullabies so sweetly in the rhythmic night.