Like grains of sand, that slip through the hand:
     Where’s the sense in counting?
Years pass quickly by, so soon we die,
     for sins we’ll be accounting!
Some meek - some bold, times hot - times cold,
     the life that’s ours, too fleeting.
To where winds blow?  No one will know:
     naught but momentary meeting.
We plan - we scheme, we act - we dream,
     all comes to end at death.
Friends met - then lost: we count the cost,
     they’ve drawn their final breath.
We live each day; our chosen way;
     count not the hours we’ve spent.
As some will say, to live each day,
     must be our sole intent.
From Nature’s earth, at dawn of birth,
     ours, but a passing presence.
So count not grains, for Life soon wanes:
     time always of the essence.

Rhymer June 15th, 2018

(exercise madness)

put him to death and
in less time than it takes to draw
one single breath
the history of man began,
that's modern history and
not Neanderthal stuff
although there's not nearly enough
known about them,

and we end up with **** stars
and rock stars and star wars
and more ****** who keep scores
and play out the old wars to settle
old scores.

I'm lost in the maze of a manuscript
tripped up by Tryptanol and
being killed slowly by Kryptonite,
you'd think Superman might have put
batteries in this cheap watch he gave
to me
nobody will save me and
I'll go to the grave
unnoticed.

the heart is located just below the sternum and i
would like you to exist in the space between them
curl into me and fall asleep to the pounding
of my heart that i feel whenever you look at me.
i think i could make you like me better if i
could make a soft bed for you inside of myself
but there’s only hardness and bone.
would you still love me after seeing that there’s
no depth to me at all? no flowers under my
nailbeds? there’s nothing poetic about the
desecration inside me. does that turn you off?
does it scare you? it scares me. it does.

Darling boy. I think you’re more of a dream than
I’d like to admit. You’ve existed in my mind for
so long. You go by many names: soulmate. The
One. Love of my life. Angel. True love. Mister
right. Beloved. Red.
Why would I call you anything but your name
when you go by so many? I can call you my
sweetheart and it doesn’t hold what I’d like it to.
My Red. Color boy. Have you ever considered
that the crime scene of my heart is now covered
in your fingerprints? Does it bother you to have
your name so close to a ******? I’d like to think
your hands will be the softest thing to ever touch
me. I’d like to think your lips are even softer. I
want to believe that you’ll always love me like
this, the way that I’ll always love you like a
whirlpool. I am just spinning in my feelings
for you. They can be overwhelming, but I wouldn’t
change it for the world. It’s almost like the universe
created me to love you. I was created to be yours
and you were created to be great. You’ve succeeded.
And I hope I’m succeeding, too. I love you, soulmate.

Time is passing by
I am here against my will
Who invented me?