The house is empty
Except for your ghost
Lumbering past
Legos and Lincoln Logs

Vacant expression
Weary eyes
Licking your lips you lie down

And the only weather
Which would soothe
Would be a rain
                        of frogs

I want to see the sea again,
but not like seen before
I want to watch a beast wash up
on a sopping, stormy shore

the sun has all forsaken me
the breeze turned torrent doom
the bright of day is dashed away
in tumbled, trashing gloom

my skin is scales, my breath is salt
my air is suffocating
I'm taking in the cold and dark
I'm watching death parading

to spite the light that's left my heart
is all the due I've paid
and every drop of dampened soul
sounds out my serenade

At lunch with Mr. morality-now...
*
Enter Tommy
The bureaucrat
With much aplomb
He'll chew the fat

He will tell you
What it takes
To make the partner-
ships he makes

And how to play
The politics game
And deal with those
Who smear your name

You need to know
Exactly what
Motivates
That pain-in-your-****

Find out what
They care about
And use some leverage
To beat the lout

Apply some pressure
And you'll find
They'll change their ways
Or lose their mind

Oh, while you're
At it, pray for all
To hear the savior's
Beckon call

That's what Jesus
Of course would do
It's worked for me
It'll work for you

These apparently
Discordant tips
Call into question
All your quips

The restless soul
                             heaves a low heavy moan

Of loneliness
                                     when we’re not alone

We all have inner
                                              sadness at times

Enjoy this brief visit
                                   before the clock chimes

I need to write a brand new poem
Of hope and strength,
Of pride

I’m fettered, chained, shackled, bound,
The old trope, at length,
Descried

    But

The scaly skin is thus removed
By claws that gently peel
The rind

“It all comes”, the student said,
“Of slumbering in caves,
I find”