He sat down
by the bar with a bottle of
whiskey.
And while the angels sang
he listened
to the preachings
of a crooked bartender
Whose days were filled with drunk forgotten nights,
and he knew
for first time
that he has
never felt more
close to God.

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

Mother
Help her
Don’t you love her
She’s bleeding out
On the bathroom floor
Mother
Hold her
Can’t you see she’s dying
Right there in front of you
Her lungs are shaking
Mother
Tell her
That she’ll be alright
Put pressure on her wounds
Stop the flow
Mother
Help me
I don’t want to die
It’s getting so cold
Please keep me warm

I hate for I was deceived
You hate for I am weak
Others hate for they do not understand

In-between the breathes of panic
While blood trickles to my fingers tips
The only hate that I know
Is the one for my myself

I have a head full of bitter
change.  Shake me gently
or it will fall out.  Do you
like me enough to tally
the aged money?

You are a stream where
people go to pray.  The
Ganges of the soul.  Weary
of the candles floating on
the prayers of lesser sinners
you ask only for confession.

You send the lighted candles
downstream.  Forgiveness
is not for the weak, and
shy of life's detritus

you weary of all things that
I leave on the edge of
sorrow.  Oh! River of my
Old age why do you

need me?


Caroline Shank

You tell me that the present moment is over.

The arguments
The disappointment
The expectations
The anger that rages
Followed by tears that make it hard to swallow

The present moment is over when the company in no longer enjoyed.