Michele Di Carlo became a freak show
the day he climbed up a tree
To his dismay, that rainy day, he fell
and broke his bone in three

Some say, it could have been worse
a deformity for the hard ******
but humbled now, with a wrist to hide
now that his fingers were all twisted

Yet, no shame is in the mangled
Michele dangled no pity in his pain
He learned to show it off in pride
though be crippled or he be lame

When shaking hands with most men
he smiles, offering a disfigured hand
His strength was in his frailty
a bashfully better and stronger man

For on the day of his funeral
photos reveal before he died
an array display of his freakish limb
his best pose by his side

Even then, Mr Carlo in his coffin
requested only one thing when laid to rest
that when they placed him in the ground
they’d lay his hand upon his chest

If you try
to close your eye
and keep your thoughts
in to think
Take care
not to sleep
in too deep
at a flicker of a slightest

blink

I’ve fallen asleep
many times
lying down

ink and paper in hand

To find my thoughts
splattered around
so I’ve learned to write
while I stand

try
to not lie
and write
the right
way up

You may find
thoughts like mine
spill

and never stop

by the time
you have this read
you’ll think it’s in my head

so no…it’s

dripping down

You will find
It’s not in
my mind
but
in my toes

flowing on the ground.

a
   poem
      hides a
     secret within a
    letter or placing of
     a word look carefully
           and intent-fully
                   a secret you may have
                heard examine it ever closely
                       what’s preferred
                  or inferred if you
         open read it slowly
     it may fly out
like a
bird

A lizard and a tatt!
imagine that…
his lover left before she came
gone on a whim
leaving him
with a tattoo of her name

now full of regret
but soon will forget
when his words finally come true
his promise of change
never too late to arrange
a shed of skin and off with the tattoo