I'm 72 and I'm not you.
Now I know I'm not me.
I'm just an afterthought
created with no purpose.
I'm a troubadour to amuse
the royal court confuse
the drunk King his *****
leaves him wanting more.
I write his sordid story
lies about false glory.
We watch as the stars
all fall from the sky
and we smell hell and
finally all just die.

Got you worrying from your gate post
to the cane fields. Got you fearing for
your life while the yellow eyed
black beasts stare with hatred at your
whips and ******* cruelty without
an ounce of fear anymore.

I'm on a cusp of life or death.
     Not quick like suicide, more
     subtle.  Life's habits can be
     harsh on these bodies we've been
     gifted.  Treat it like a church or
     carnival side show. It's our choice.

     Alcohol is weakness or strength
     depending on one's point of view.
     My lab results raised grave concerns
     about my physical well being.
     I'd died long ago when I lost her.
     I knew that I'd regret my choice.

     The truth is when good and bad are
     placed upon the scale of God
     I believe it will favor my good.
     What brought me here was sadness.
     Joy died long ago when I lost her.
     Forgive me for my selfishness.

It scares me how you turn
  your face into a wall
  how you rip your ears off
  when I call
  You turn your lips to stone
  when I try to kiss you when I fall
  in love with you and kneel at your
  feet with ****** knees after I crawl
  your just an old wrinkled crow almost
  forgotten except for your distant caw.

New York Times said it.
  God is dead. Heavens empty.
  Hell is cold ash.
  The devil's in the details.
  Heaven will be Timeshares.
  Hell will be for Geologists.

Judas wakes and takes his bag of silver
  after betrayal with his kiss like I've
  done a thousand times before. Great White
  Whale Moby **** ripped off dark Ahab's leg
  black hates white hates yellow hates brown
  hates rich hates poor hates young hates old
  hates drunk Irish and drunk French and fat
  Germans like little ******. Almost a disease
  write your soul down word for word see who
  is your friend and who is unkind. Almost like
  being free. Take yourself out to the curb sit
  and wait for a life I'm no longer hungry for.

Wheels spinning and lovers sinning
   in the dark of the tunnel of love.
   Kids giddy on wooden horses while he
   wins her heart with a stuffed unicorn.
   Guess your age. Guess your weight.
   See the freaks for your amusement.
   We live among acres of corn, slaves
   to it dawn to dark, too tired for love.
   Endless winters making children to
   bring another crop to market and we
   live for the same things we all do.
   Moonshine in lemonade at the Fair.

Women were dancing with women.
  Men were dancing with men.
  Donkeys were ****** and dogs too.
  Chains kept the whole thing civil.
  Love songs flew over mountains and
  the moon kept a billion secrets.

I write this sonnet for you
purer than our midnight
full moon, *** act one, in
the dead bed in motel 6,
you left for other tricks.
Afterward I got my fix
the purest of any mix
I ever shot up for kicks.

I wrote my soul word for word
on a grain of rice big as Mars
and called it my Suicide Note and
plastered it on windows of my bars
they took my ashes once they cooled
packed them to sell in Jelly jars.

There's a stranger in my heart
  who won't let me get to know him.
  I learned he doesn't trust love.
  It broke his heart on a whim.
  He travels back streets alone
  sleeps under stars full of lies
  of lovers for money by the hour.
  Love's out of my reach 'til he dies.
  Then we'll find a place for our love
  with no doubt. A bed for love again.

Like Vincent my art's invisible
now but maybe future generations
will find fire in the night sky
and read my blood on the page
and know what life was like in
my time spinning on this marble.

I was young and lost. I was
unable to keep up when he
went in the bank. I saw him
leaving across the street and
ran after him and a car hit me
and broke my heart and leg.
He was the god I disappointed,
the man I was always chasing.

There's a terrible storm in my heart.
    It's fire and ice. There's no in between.
    I live the best I can in the middle of it.
I floor it before I lose all my nerve.

I learned abuse from my
war torn father. He taught
me cruelty and hair trigger
anger. Always anger at me
and those I hoped to love.
I hate me. I don't know why.

I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of our kitchen
  I found my new soulmate
  I'm leaving you and the kids
  to write poetry with answers

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of your dorm room
  our last kiss and
  I'm off to Boston
  to discover myself.

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of my garret
  a broken fist I put in your wall
  I'm jealousy's beast of burden
  I won't bother for my stuff. I'm sorry

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  with a drunk *******
  I'm just another *****
  gather your stuff, bye
  why do I keep dying inside?

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  Nashville new job, we're over
  I'll mail your stuff.
  you were the cruelest month
  still I couldn't set you free

  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  always
  no cure for romantics
  who believe in God
  and impossible love.

Truth reveals itself near midnight
when I swim in deep pools of wine.
I'm lost. My family died in my depths.
I need shallows to hide in.
I need a goddess named Georgine
to help me find my North Star.
I'll sail back home and find my
broken life and fix it best I can.

It's a lost cause
   broke Santa Claus
   corrupt without pause
   king without *****
   queen without claws
   shark without Jaws
   country without laws
   election full of flaws!

Not all love is lost as time can't heal all wounds.
   Lust has no use for time beyond a fortnight. It withers.
   Keep your heart under lock and key but your knees apart
   for my midnight wine stoked visit to your sacred chamber.

I was desperately drunk and desperately in love.
    I made promises I wouldn't keep. She invited me
    into her garden. I ate forbidden fruit. Nirvana!
    Pains, doubts, anxieties, fears gone instantly.

    The morning after had a sour taste.
    God and priest and nun and catholic world
    collided with our promised land of love.
    We stayed drugged with flesh and defiance.

    Pregnant, we were married in the Church.
    We had our daughter and a son soon after.
    I wish lust didn't fade with time.
    I wandered and became a ******* cliche.

Tiny dress and **** me shoes
       bring me back from the dead.
       I was sleeping in a graveyard
       inside the cavern of my head.
       You made my heart beat again.
       It throbs wild like a beast
       hungry for the promised sin
       starving for your siren's feast.

I fall in love easy
with all the others.
Snake hair and *******,
thin as ice I skate on.
We play our parts on cue.
We laugh and cry sculpted.
Life like posed in wax in
Madame Tussaud's museum.

Do you know these people
  dirt poor with joyful eyes?
  No tears or pity asked they
  work hell's cloudless fields
  every meal fatback and beans  
  sharecropper hands of stone.
  Sunday overalls starched go
  to Church praise Jesus, atone.
  Saturday nights there's music
  and moonshine and slow dance
  they give up the ghost midnight
  still clutching in fierce romance.

I eat your poetry like ice cream.
It settles in orbits in my mind.
A universe of words swirling
into meanings understood by
the lost souls called poets.

To be or not to be?
   I paint a black halo around
   your blond hair at midnight
   while you hide the moon from
   me and I wonder at your games.
   It's all intense; music, acid,
   *******, the beautiful things
   I've known, but  not seen lately
   We wait naked in the dark for
   dawn's first vague glimpse of
love in our eyes. We stare blind
and reach into the dark for lovers.

You fool no one but yourself
  with ***** and peppermints.
  You slur words and stumble.
  I will love you always.
  You're the funniest man I
  will ever know and kindest
  and fiercely loyal to a fault.
  You're broken and know it.
  You don't know how to fix it.
  I'll keep your broken as best
  I can. We'll live in a crooked
  house on a crooked street with
  less and less. Our world is
  small. It shrinks often as our
  friends and family drink into
  their early graves as sure as
  you will or give up on us as
  too broke to bother with.

Each pencil is an arrow, every pen a spear,
     each typewriter key a grenade of "truth".
     Propaganda sways masses where writers steer.
     Who are we to doubt the almighty news?

I write a thousand poems.
  Some good, bad and so so
  and put them in bottles
  in the ocean to be found
  by The New Yorker or
  Harriet Monroe's POETRY.
  It's bad when family flies in.
You know you're almost gone
and it'll be printed in the very
next issue my favorite one.

I'm an altar boy raised by nuns
trying to dance on the wild side with
guilt my constant companion. I bury my
conscience under absinthe and *******.
I wake naked and bewildered among people
searching for clothes caught in piles
never to be found again. We cover our
shame with anything we can and slither
out the door in splendid wonder at what
we dared do in such a strict world. We
are strangers who will meet again in
tomorrow's ****** of our own creation.

Before time and matter and
love and hate and you and me
a movie started it all. Why not?
Big Bang on the biggest screen
we call universe. In a pool hall
the gods racked their ***** and
Zeus broke and sent nothing
into an acid trip of everything.
Some find their paradise.
Some find comfort dying.

Old Joe's drumming on the pots and pans
    as someone hums a harmony and starts a
    symphony as others join into the noise.
    Soon dancers move into the picture and
    flail about as only the mad can. They
    are perfect in this human zoo. I love
    every scar. We each own every flaw.
    There but for the grace of you go I.

I don't pray
per say
I hold hope
in my heart
and do what
I can to help.

The war was won the men came home
   broken but ready to fill the cradles
   and cry on the shoulders that matter
   and smell of the remembered perfume.
   They spent the venom into wombs to
   bring buddies back from ugly deaths.

We poets watch the world our eye
    glued to a microscope. We pick it
    apart and we lecture in slow motion.
    We examine nerve ends as blood explodes
    when your soul mate breaks your heart.
    We've felt your pain and suffer with you.
    We are undertakers dressed like clowns.
    We are clowns dressed as undertakers.

I was lost inside myself. I was at
  a party, loud music and beer a
tiny madness tugging at my mind all day.
  I walked naked from the bathroom.
  They wore costumes.  I was
  the only one to come as you are.
  Only that not understood
  is truly irresistible.

Paint me in watercolors.
  Bring me back to life.
  Hues of laughter and desire,
  light inside brilliant light
  husky brawling of youth
  half naked, sweating, proud.

I smoked the wine
   I drank the smoke
   I was gone when I
   rang my doorbell.
   I was Tinman with
   no heart you took.
   I'm rust and dust
   just inside Bedlam.

I'm a son of god.
I'm a broken drunk
puking in gutters.
I'm your ex.
I'm your lover
always hungry.
I buy your drugs.
I smell your incense.
I feel your pain.
Be crucified like me.
Escape the tomb then
we'll compare scars.

I'm almost 71 years old.
I'm lost in a changing world.
I still have hope for progeny.
I still believe in True Love,
Santa Claus and happy endings.
I don't think I'll ever really die.

God help me in these godless times.
A black sabbath, corrupted holiness
inhabits our hearts and souls.
Sulfur from Satan delivers his kiss.

Each click of the second hand
    validates my life. It's seamless.
    I'm here and now. Maybe not smooth
    as time can be reduced to billionth
    of a second.  Slices of time we can't
    even begin to imagine. An incredible
    number of snapshots! Life continues.
    We desperately try to slow it down,
    somehow tame time.  This a beast we'll
    never defeat. Nothing lasts forever.

I'm frantically looking for my *****.
  It's hiding behind my chair like a cat.
  Like old lovers we feel comfort again.
  Don't tease me like that. I need you.

I'm tilting at windmills tonight.
   I will slay dragons and broken hearts
   and bring dogs of hell to heel after all.
   I still sleep with her ghost tonight.
   We find small comfort living and dead.
   Cervantes'  certainty keeps our faith.

I'm an altar boy raised by nuns
trying to dance on the wild side with
guilt my constant companion. I bury my
conscience under absinthe and *******.
I wake naked and bewildered among people
searching for clothes caught in piles
never to be found again. We cover our
shame with anything we can and slither
out the door in splendid wonder at what
we dared do in such a strict world. We
are strangers who will meet again in
tomorrow's ****** of our own creation.

I reach into my ice bucket.
I feel like the Titanic ruined
as I cover the bergs with wine
and crash into my destiny again.

Did you ever see the perfect woman?
I did. She was always on a movie screen
and larger than life itself. She shimmered
and spoke loud like a goddess might.
The light was perfect for her and I lost
my heart that night in the dark and swore
I would look forever to find her and I'd
kiss her in a final scene every night.

Kathy
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of our kitchen
  I found my new soulmate
  I'm leaving you and the kids
  to write a Great American Novel

  Betsy
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of your dorm room
  our last kiss and
  I'm off to Boston
  to discover myself.

  Georgine
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of my garret
  a broken fist I put in a wall
  I'm jealousy's beast of burden
  I won't bother for my stuff. I'm sorry

  Terry
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  of my latest *******
  I'm just another *****
  gather your stuff, bye
  why do I keep dying inside?

  Lynette
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  Nashville new job, we're over
  I'll mail your stuff.
  you were the cruelest month
  still I couldn't set you free

  Jayne
  I'm aching naked
  in the raw dawn
  always
  no cure for romantics
  who believe in miracles
  and impossible loves.

Love is a 4 letter word as is ****.
   I've given both like the ***** I am.
   If I were rich I'd buy the sweetest
   wife I ever wanted. I roll poor man's
   dice and live in walk ups with you
   and work a ****** city job bringing
   home the bacon and beer to survive
   panic attacks that last until I sleep.

I've seen the priest and lawyers
and had my last meal. Big Macs
and fries and apple pie dessert.
To bed early, big day tomorrow.

I sleep. I dream. We're in a field
of wildflowers in youth's kind
innocence fumbling our way to
Eden, ****** and laughter.

A stranger takes me away to
a naked room with the smell
of death. Am I still in Eden?
I'll wait for your scent forever.

Light strikes summer night
  brilliant thought is thunder
  we stare out windows to see
  what our minds only wonder.
  A distraction from boredom
  serving our life sentence out
  make love a time or two then
  lightening kills your shout.

Christmas vacation and promises
of  presents leave us frenzied for Santa's
magical visit on the Eve of
our holy child's birth.
We hover on the upstairs
at 4 am whispering.
Who will wake mom and dad?
The short straw descends in the dark
to their door. Knock Knock
and they stir and grumble
and prepare for the explosion
of 6 kids upon treasures.
Lights are lit and we stampede
down the stairs and think,
"Is that all there is?"
That's all there is.