and then one day you find
a soul you want to bind
someone who makes you feel
you birth was not unkind

the garden of bougainvillea
is made of pretty flowers
but her branches and thorns
keep out the lovers

all you can do is
just be mesmerized
seeing the bloom
waiting to be euthanized

In response to: Please Don't Put Down Your Pen

You may live by drinking the words,
But I thrive on writing the words.
Perhaps "Please Don't Put Down Your Pen" was written in response to my works, but more than likely, it wasn't.
I live off of the written word.
It is my bread and my wine, my world away from the world.
But I have put down my pen.
Returned it to its rightful place,
The navy blue, leather coated, velvet sleeping place of my works.

I have put down my pen.
My pen has been put down.
Euthanized it.
Comatose in its leather casket.

Don't try to move
Just Be still
You must prove
It"s your will

Just be,
Quietly
Silently
Chill

No technology
No phones
No emails
No fax

Mythology
Bones
Trails
Relax

Thoughts flow through my head
like streams upon the riverbed
Constantly haunting me
Is it a plague or am I free

Wondering what it is I truly do seek
On this Hedonistic journey for pleasure
Once I finally reach the highest peak
Will I even care if there isn't any treasure

And even if there was, how much is really ever enough?
No matter how much was there I would still feel rough
The journey is over, but at least you can buy more stuff
Many toys to play with but your hands are tightly cuffed

Look a brand new thing to crave
How much money did you save?
I"ll take that secret to my grave
As a true consumer ridden slave

Everyone wants what they just can't have
Eyeing your neighbor"s prize like a vulture
Euphemise it veal instead of saying calve
Euthanized a deal, our throw away culture

I want more more more, that's mine not yours
So blessed to have our choice of each amenity
We"ve bore ourselves into consumer ******
So stressed when all we should seek is serenity

After My Little Black Dog Died of Melanoma.
After the Lumps on Her Small Brittle Body Slowly
Burned to a Pile of Ash in the Vet’s Office.  After My Step-Father
Drove in His Ostentatious Truck to Pick Up Her Remains.  After I Cried
in My Dorm Room and Tried Not to Wake My Roommate.  
Realization that My Loss Does Not Make Me Different.  There Are
Graveyards That Span For Miles and They Are Filled With More
Dead Bodies Than I Have Ever Seen.  There Are Hundreds of
Thousands of Children in the Foster Care System That Have
Never Met Their Parents or Maybe They Did and it Just Didn’t Work Out.
Kids Who Might Have Lived With Their Terminally Ill Parent(s) For Years
Not Just Days.  Kids Who Never Sat in the Opened Up Trunk of Their
Mother’s Black Nissan Pathfinder at the Drive-In Movies.  Kids Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Old Grandparents or Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Dead Grandparents.  Kids Who Were Never Told Not to Throw Snowballs Because There Might be Big Chunks of Ice in Them.  Kids Who
Never Had a Childhood Dog to Cry Over.  Kids Who
Don’t Like to Read Because They Were Never Read
Bedtime Stories When They Were Younger.  Kids Whose
Mothers Never Called Them Tweetie or Pumpkin or Honey or ***.  
Kids That Were Not Told to Just Go to the Bathroom When
Their Tummies Hurt Instead of the Health Room.  Kids Who Never
Listened to the Spice Girls’ Album Spice World on Cassette on the
Way to the Store.  Kids Who Never Got a Peach Drink Out of a Vending Machine at the Pick’N’Save on 27th  Street and Still Don’t Know
Exactly What 50¢ Peach Drink Their Mother Bought For Them.  
There Are Thousands of Dogs Euthanized Each Day Because of
How Sick They Are or Because They Were at a Shelter For Far Too Long
or Because They Are a Pitbull or a Rottweiler or Some Other
Irrationally Feared and Disliked Dog Breed.  We Didn’t Euthanize My
Stage-Four-Cancer-Stricken Dog or Even Get Her Treatment Beyond
Pain Medicine Because We Were Selfish.  We Do a Lot of Things Because
We Are Selfish.  We Waited Five Days to Pull the Plug on My Vegetable
Mother Because We Were Waiting For a Miracle That We Knew Would
Never Happen Because She Stopped Breathing the Moment the
Aneurysm Burst.  My Sister is Getting Married in June and My
Grandfather is Going to Walk Her Down the Aisle in My Mother’s
Place.  My Grandparents Had to Move In With My Sister After My
Grandmother Fell Down Too Many Times and Didn’t Take Her Health
Problems Serious Enough.  There Are Repercussions For Thinking
You Are Safe When You Are Really Not.

I had a few of my poems
Published in an Australian
Student project underground
Art-paper in '97.

One of my Melbourne High School
Teachers said he felt I had
One foot in Rumi's world,
The other in Bukowski's.
-
i could either be
a drunken genious
at the track
not winning
yet certainly
drinking
my health
borderline
euthanized
and writing to sustain it.
the magic and
honor in not
being an honored
magician.
-
But the sun-warmth within her palm
Makes everything she lays it upon
Feel as if kitten's belly-
Soft and as inviting to love as the
Newest-born infant on Earth
With her touch.
All is Day.
I need her too much to find sleep.
-
****. I do love them both.

It's during times like this
When I wonder about you.

It's been
What
Two years now
Since we euthanized this beast of a relationship
Stampeding and rampaging
Leaving contempt and devastation in its wake

All the people rejoiced.
Finally,
They said.
At long last
Our prayers have been answered.
Glory be.

You deserved better anyway
Than this ****
So dense
For all his wit
This stupid *****
She couldn't even think straight.
C'mon, let's drink
Play badminton
Hit the beach
Forget about this ******.

Barriers demolished by alcohol and fatigue
Bravado has long faded
Given way to sentiment.

**** inhibitions.
They're legally dead at this point.

I should be asleep by now
But my thoughts are with you.

I don't want you back
(I think we're well past that point already, don't you)
But I do miss you.
The way we used to talk
About anything and everything
Your quirky, subversive little philosophies
That you gleaned from the mindfucks of your day.

Sure
Your friends hate my guts,
I'm guessing.
My friends sure as hell hate yours.
'That *****', is how they refer to you
'That nasty ***** with the rotten *****', to be exact.

Still I sit and wonder,
How are you?

I'm doing much better now.
That job of mine that you dissed on a weekly basis
Well
I got a better job now.
Dated someone briefly
(A minute compared to our three years)
Before she broke my heart
And skipped away.
Got a PS3, too, finally.
(Still no Mass Effect, sorry.)
Cut my hair
But grew a goatee,
Lost those love handles you always laughed at
(Thanks to my striking and grappling coaches and cigarettes
And my all-too repulsive coworkers.)

Still chill.
Still writing.
Although I've abandoned prose
In favor of poetry.
Whodathunk, right?

But I'm happy.
I'm sure you are, too.
It just bums me, I guess
How two people so crazy about each other
Willing to die for one another
Turn their backs on their families
Could go on and become strangers
Just like that
After some tears and substance abuse
And be complete and happy apart from the other.

It's 3 AM
And my thoughts are with you.
They never left you.
Not when I have to speed past your hovel of a house
Every day on the way to work
(And not a day goes by when I don't entertain the thought
Of running into you around the neighborhood)
Without wondering
If you've finally patched things up with that ***** sister of yours
If your parents are still ****** as ever
If you still think of me
Like how I think of you.

You're still probably up
Reading strangers' blogs
Like how you first stumbled into mine,

Or coding
Trying to beat a deadline
For yet another insufferable client from hell.

Because I really did love you.
You were an answered prayer
(By Lucifer, my friends would sneer,
Before spitting and demanding another cigarette
Another round of beer.)
But I truly did.

I just hope that you truly did love me as well.
You're still an enigma.
Very much so,
As much as the day I first met you.

4 AM now
And my thoughts are still with you.
When would they ever
Get with the program
And leave you
Like how I left you

With a final cry of
Enough
And a stride surer than a lion
Walking ahead of its pride

Because it's getting old
Smiling at myself in the mirror
All too pleased with what I'm seeing
Without having to ignore the specter
Staring beside me
Judging silently

Enough.

If we're together til death do us part
Then the only way out becomes suicide

you keep me awake
eroding desire for learned things

the aching reality seeps
into the dinner i’ve yet learned
how to cook

TV,
numb the onset of a depression
bound to break me
as it already has to my family

a family intoxicated,
sitting staring submissive
to your sermon, the rippling pool
of sounds too stale to in and
exhale

I watch you indoctrinate
placid as a vegetable

like a euthanized dog
falling asleep I slide into
senselessnessbliss

…

oh

finally

my favorite show

the travel one I seldom see

take me to the places
I long for so much

a shadow of a man, i am
to walk this earth thinking i am worth something
to think my soul has any value
when it has been proven that i am nothing but floating particles

what a cynic, i am
to believe i know the value of something
to put an investment in something so intimate
when it has been proven that i only knew the asking price

a blind man, i am
to see things the way they are
and not the way they ought to be

i pray for the quietest death
as i don't want to disturb others
a silence to the groans that come from my deep within
and a sigh as i release my final note

i wish for the quietest death
a euthanized extinction
my throat is raw from the mightiest of roars
my claws; dull at the tips

your love still rings in my ears
a torment I can never cease
i lay still, night after night
begging the invisible heavens, please;

somebody slip me the quietest death
nobody needs to know
i'd do anything to see you one last time
and kiss your lips before i go

i will lay still.
i will not make a sound.
i will be subdued.

i would die to never see you again.

I'm a young kind of broken
I don't break easily, but I break consistently

I haven't devoted half my life to a love
Only to watch it flicker and dissolve

I haven't drowned in bills I can't pay
Handing my dinner off to my better bits of DNA

I'm a young kind of broken

I break at the sight of documentaries
Hosting hate, disease and inhumanities

I break at hurting Grandmothers
Euthanized dogs and dead Grandfathers

I break consistently, a young kind of broken
Holding in my arms love, hope and humanity
But I can't handle it all, so I may let a piece drop out
Every once in a while
And when I bend to pick it up
They all come crashing down

I'm a young kind of broken
Broken all the same

All my broken elders:
Would you let me break with you?
Will you be there to help collect what remains?

The revolution will not be televised,
unless it is being used to vilify,
or is being politicized
by those political guys
trying to score votes.
Any fair press will be silenced or brutalized
along with other protesters.
The leadership will be euthanized,
or demonized unless they can be
subdued quietly.

If you are under the illusion
that you can fight back physically
you must be mentally silly.
The cops got equipment
left over from the military
cause the war machine
wants to sell our government
the newest toys.

If our government has any say
they will find a way to lock away
anyone who might inspire change.
If you don’t believe me
just look and read
about Assata Shakur,
or Angela Y. Davis.

If you know or love anyone
who is out there trying to save us,
from the congressional and big business,
power hungry alliance
you better pray that they keep their defiance
just low key enough to slip the notice
of Law enforcement, or POTUS,
cause this country isn’t for us
and does not provide justice.
It is just a business that is made
to break and degrade
while the working class is enslaved.

Your son was injured and I'm as sorry as I can be.
But you had no right to **** a dog who wasn't guilty.
Your son was attacked and nearly killed by another Doberman.
You thought that it was my dog so you shot him with your gun.
But the guilty Doberman was caught two days ago and he was euthanized.
You killed an innocent dog and because of that, you ought to be chastised.
My dog wasn't just a pet, he was also my friend.
I cried as I buried him because it was the end.
If it wasn't for your son's predicament, I'd have you put in jail.
That's the only thing that's stopping me from having you locked in a cell.
If you shoot another innocent animal, I won't be so nice.
Before you shoot another animal, you'd better think twice.

combustion was concealed
as flashes of despair,
created plaque throughout
bruising memories.

catastrophic events
euthanized rational thoughts,
as grinning cheeks sparkled
upon dawning drizzle.

dejavu sprinkled sunshine
on a fainting glow,
as the moon smiled in
devious nightmares. .

pergatory a permanent domain,
sleeplessly engaged with ghosts
haunting her final dormitory.

life embezzling imperfections,
death welcomed infectious diseases.

limbo remained faithful
between pulsating beats,
while inhaling peculiar oxygen
embezzled immortality.

pulsating heartbeat expired,
long before the coffin nail
unearthed its final target.

i sympathize

i empathize

i want to be euthanized


l.r.

It all started with a wire recorder,
Skinny wire wound up on a plastic
Roller, in the basement bedroom of
His neighbor’s garage, very near
The place they euthanized a cat to
Learn about feline anatomy.

Fresh from his new job as an
Orderly at the VA hospital, and
Sure of his place as the savior of
Many a homeless alcoholic drifter,
Adam decided to start with a cat
So as not to practice without a license.

The recorder was a Christmas gift,
Since the young man had started to
Document the songs he learned in
His choir-school days in case he
Had to audition for a role in the
Church mini-pageant the next year.

Adam took pride in being able to
Reply in the affirmative to both
The questions his friends asked:
“Are you a scientist?” and “Are
You a singer?,” since the Nobels
Are being handed out oddly now.

Taping his notes was a necessity, as
His hands were always full of sheaves
Of music or carefully wrapped in
Latex gloves when he was armed with
Stainless steel surgical tools, and
Liable to get ****** dissecting.

On one occasion his much younger
Cousin happened in on the anatomical
Experiment and was sprayed with a
Rather morbid dose of formaldehyde
From the spot just under the tail,
Where he was standing.

Adam began to wonder whether this
Was the tip of the iceberg, or if he was
Merely fooling himself into recording
His results as the best way to gain
Entrance to the grad school of his
Choice, to join the other robots.

He wondered, too, if this was just
A little bit of a dream from faraway.
If the cat was simply a clue to the
Future, if in the entrails would be
Found dramatically bound in
Ribbon, the key to a music box.

And from this music box would
Spew forth a melody which Adam
Could redeem for a ticket away from
This basement laboratory and to
A candlelit stage floor where he
Would hear the sound of a single cello.

He believed in the things he always
Thought he knew, the things he had
Not memorized but had gut feelings
About, so in his beliefs could be no
Deceit, no surprise, no doubt.
Only wonderment and blind faith.

Black dots started to form on the
Ceiling, bells began to ring, soft
Crying in the distance became louder
As the ghost of the basement in the
Attic whispered in Adam’s ear:
“Your sleeping heart is awake!”


The whisper became a whistle, a
String of lights, then a fugue, then
The tick-tock of a clock, finally the
Sound of a fire’s breath in green
And gold murmuring over fake
Rattling radio waves.

Adam’s lab was transformed,
It became a lobby with a Steinway
But no player at the keys and no
Rolls hiding above them, only
A triptych playing the carols of a
Lone double bass leitmotif.

Adam felt blessed as he was called
Center stage by a maestro in white tie.
The podium’s glistening red and gold
Parament complemented his bright
Blue eyes in a pleasant way, as did
The strains of “Fantasia.”

Adam’s mom entered the room
Suddenly without knocking.  She
Handed him a letter from the ASPCA.
“I had to sign for this,” she whined.
“And get dressed.” she ordered, “Your
Choir rehearsal starts in an hour; hop
To it before your voice changes!”

© Lewis Bosworth, 12/2016

Welcome* to the dragons den...

Nobody ever told me when I was born,
That there would be times when the place where I was welcome would fill with fire...
My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was very young,
She passed away when I was nine...
My father blames me everyday, he calls me a curse

So now I believe that I am worth nothing...

When I was 13 my soon to be stepmom had a stroke,
She was euthanized no more than 2 months ago...
My father blames me everyday, he calls me a curse

I am sure of it now I was an accident...

Today was my birthday, My father called me an accident...

You have no idea dad...no idea...

The only patience we had for belibers was spent in a quick game of operation and listening to the music their god produced, who may I mention is the age of *******. Let me be clear Justin Beiber the death of your belibers was no accident actually it was a genocide. Our purpose was to take out your dooncoff belibers and believe us it worked since your here to see them go 6 feet under beneath us. Don't get jealous cause you're next, yes this is a eulogy but low key this is a meeting on taking you out. First we take out the army now we moving onto the commander slash general. we're going to assassinate you, my bad that implies you're famous, we're going to euthanize you put you down like a dog but its not going to be a one and done shot, naw, ima have more arms on stand by like a centipede using the 2nd admendment to the fullest extent of the law , my bullets will be hitting on you so much that you will think they was flirting with you just like start of your euthanized dooncoff belibers club.

my drug myopia------my bitterness-----my sheltered life----like a harlequin----dancing a reel--then I'm camouflage-------a rotted tooth--
a euthanized dog-----the son of-a ***** -could do no good--- ..................
i see the fly on the wall-their brood found in stench-- so look away-- as I lie in ****--the sinner need savior-- pastor need flock---meat bounced from the back of a garbage truck--- ..........................
lonely-- impetigo----greasy--and willing----to slit my wrist -and risk no redemption----I'm the book you shut----kicking the ground--left to my own devices--- dead on the ground ...................

euthanized epiphanies
fluttering vacant thoughts
hope's expectation
breaks on waterfall rocks
creation of oblivion
averted sideways glance
stares of isolation
all is happenstance

I'm seeing them.
And I am Immobilized!

I'm hearing them.
And I am Mortified!

I'm feeling them.
And I am Paralyzed!

I'm smelling them.
And I am Demoralized!

I'm touching them.
AND I AM EUTHANIZED.

I think I should be the poster girl for suicide. Okay, wait listen, I promise that makes sense. There are a certain number of things that a person may show before the commit suicide. I should not hit as many as I do. Oops. There is a handy little guide that goes by IS PATH WARM, which, let’s be honest, is kinda a dumb acronym, but it does seem to be accurate. Once again. Oops. I is for ideation, which kinda means that I’ve been thinking about it. Now, no one else happens to be privy to my thoughts, so I’ll go ahead and let you know that that is a big old check. S is for substance abuse, now, I used to be straight-edged, but that was before I discovered how wonderful being high was. It feels like the biggest weight in the world has been lifted from my shoulders and I feel, well, normal. Another check. Oops. P is for purposefulness. That means that I don’t see a purpose to living. I don’t. Simple as that. Check. A is for anxiety. Every **** day is filled with what if what if what it, and I can’t see how anyone could love me or how anything can get better and what if what if what if I never become anything, or if I just fall off the radar of everything and what if what if what if I just do it, just let go. Check. T is for trapped. Trapped in life, trapped in routine, trapped in my mind, trapped like a rabid animal in a cage, set to be euthanized. There is no way to get better, there is no way to change, everything day in day out is the same. I wake up the same time, go to sleep the same time. Same job, same friend, same same same. Check, check, check. H is for hopelessness. Golly what it must feel like to have hope. To hope that things will get better and change. I gave up on hope a long time ago. What a silly thing hope is. Check. W is for withdraw. Once upon a time I could laugh and smile with my brother, once upon a time I could run to my father and he would catch me no question, once upon a time I could go to my mother with woes about weight and love and friends and life and and and now I can’t. I ruined those relationships. Pulled away because I could feel myself changing, becoming a darker, altered version of the sister and daughter they knew. They didn’t deserve to have to see that, to carry that burden. No, that burden is mine to worry about. Check again. A is for anger. I have been angry about so many things for so long. It ***** that I have to go through this, that my dad got sick, that my mom works every day and doesn’t ask for a thing in return, that all the friends I have ever had have left me, that people move on and pets die and the world keeps on turning even when I have stopped. I’m dizzy because everything and everyone is still moving and I, I am angry. Check. R is for recklessness. Have you ever walked across the busiest street you live by without checking the traffic, or hovered a little too far over the edge of your balcony, started a fight with someone you have no hope of beating, seeing how long you can stay underwater even though you let out your last breath a minute ago, done so many drugs you’ve forgotten what you even took, forgot what you were drinking three no four maybe it was five shots ago? I’d say I’m a little reckless. Check. M is for mood changes. This one is oh so simple. I used to be happy. Check.