my grandfather didn't speak much
he barely asked any questions
besides a quiet "how are you?"
he sat in his chair with his newspaper
a grimacing statue
the center of orbit in the house

my grandfather gave me icecream
without me asking
a clinking bowl with sweet vanilla
would appear next to me
and no words would be spoken

my father gives me icecream
without me asking
a clinking bowl before he fades back into the shadows
and i think i'm starting to understand
how we learn to love

i hope i will do more
than give someone a bowl of icecream

i smoke
                and i drink

'*** i thought it would help me not to think . . .

but here i am
                         after several shots

thinking all my anxious thoughts.

Draw a stick figure
future - diminished
and virus ransomed.

Paint the landscape
with the sweltering glare
of global warming.

Come share this
with me - let kisses heal and
soft whispers inflame.

Some locks need two keys
to open; some heavens can
be reached by mortals.

She has flawed carved into her arm, just above her wrist veins
wonders to herself, how she can escape her pain,
feels justified...in the sadness that she calls her own,
I told her, it isn't wise, to make this place your home...

Black and White photos, she's in her room head down,  
deep mind state, like an artist, she feels that within her image she has found,
A way to project that she is deep,
I smile faintly and whisper, whatever helps you sleep...  

Sadness is a ball and chain, and life is just a game, but when theres sunshine outside, its a pity to claim that all you see is rain,

I've never felt that it is deep, or particularly difficult, to cut oneself off, to cut oneself out, or...to cut oneself...

Much more difficult to wade into the sea of madness that is the collective human experience and proudly proclaim, I do this for me, I do this for you, I choose to labour towards happiness, because the sadness isn't true,

They say the truth is an ugly *****, and lies are her beautiful sister... she never looked so lovely as when she was crying, I swear it was so hard to resist her...

But the tears were the lie and now here is the ugly truth...life is full of love, if you cant connect, perhaps you should investigate why, and if the reason is that your sadness somehow gives you a feeling that you have a monopoly on the truth...well then... i say to you...

99% of what we go through is positive
1% is negative
and this is common to everyone, who has ever lived
you ask me what hidden condescension my eyes hide when I gaze at you,
its because all that i have said to you is true...
and you have chosen to focus on the 1%...
the reason why...is the only thing that isn't evident

This is the viral solstice and I am liberty’s gambler.
What would I give to taste the fresh air of freedom?

Anything.

Thaw-out that space-cold hope and puncture me – please.
God blesses the poets to write of such miracles.

You can twist the way a man sees the world.
Do you think that sounds ridiculous?
What if you did it over time with subtlety and diligence?

The audience is largely uneducated, so remind them of their impotence; tell them any other source of facts must be regarded with suspiciousness.

Whisper to them over breakfast and slowly introduce corrosive dissonance; outright lie to them at dinner,salting in some truth for spicy antithesis.

Those who run the country are up to something mischievous; their lives, their fine America, have been eroding with precipitance.

Remember empowered yesterdays with a sad and tearful wistfulness; twist the needs and rights of others with pernicious lies and maliciousness.

Invest their government with conspiracy and its policies with wickedness. Remind your audience that freedom was torn from kings by well-armed militias.

Introduce the savior as a shining instrument of religiousness; defend his faults as small and frivolous and his right to rule as unambiguous.

When shocking reality dares assert itself, denials must be vicious and officious.

A rescue mission must be launched and certainly they must be participants; banners from the gift shop will form a team identity and a certain moral equivalence.

The leader will whip the angry crowd, stoking resentment with fabricated incidents, swearing, “I will be with you on this great crusade and you will be my instruments”

As the mob storms off he will slink away; he was only there for stimulus.

Hear the old republic creak as the President flexes his insolence; he’s seen that no blame can touch him, so he’s filled with proud ambivalence.

What will it take to rein him in? What kind of obvious stimulant, with thousands already dying every day and our society marbled with brittleness?

Hello again
nagging dissatisfaction
diminish me again
corrupt everything
with your whispers of truth.

Arrggh!!
**** phone alarm.
I gulp haste.
I open my school app - like an eyelid.
Invade my sanctuary, virtual tyranny.
Where's my focus?!
looking around for my coffee cup
I feel like a bobble-head.

virtual school moments (in senryus)

I forget that I'm
virtual school, because I'm
really in my room.

And start brushing my
hair or singing a song I'm secretly
listening to - until friends text me!

My mom forgets I'm
in v.school, comes in, to yell
at me about dishes.

My cat walks across
my keyboard submitting "84;'/jifgvbzws"
as a test answer.

"It was a typo!," I complain,
“You still got an "A"," she says.
"But I LOST 4 points!!" Argh!
"Get a life!," she says.

Now I understand
why dogs get so excited
about going out.