They said you can't do that with a cat—
The world's not ready for that!
And at first they jeered,
but then they cheered,
'cuz my cat is the fanciest hat.

A guy and his gal were abed,
when she looked over at him and said,
"The way your ***** is bent
is my only lament."
So sideways they did it instead.

You'll never know a fairer pod,
Than when you meet a therapod;
For a therapod will care a lot
And doesn't want to scare a ***.

So if you chance to meet a therapod,
Don't think that it's a terror pod –
A therapod is a rarer sod,
Unless you meet a pair o' pods.

Canoodling his significant other,
Our man Henry was loathe to discover:
The **** had run dry,
But rather than cry,
He decided to go get the butter.

Everyday's the same, same old crap, same old wonder
New day is dawning, morning bright, a day to plunder
Welcome to the real world, one away from heady dreams
Yet still ripe with stargaze and colour and off-of-table schemes
You wake up in the moment, taking it as prescribed
Leaving buried things buried, you keep it all inside.

Visiting "Chez Louis", tossing back Main Street
Who's putting on who, who's missing the beat
Pair of size 10 sneakers, rubber soles, red and white
No sweater, no hat, the sun is raging bright
You take a trip to nowhere, not so very far
And marvel at the marvel, of feeling like a star.

They call you a lost wonder, you call 'em all first rate
Leave it all to karma and destiny and fickle, fickle fate
Don't start your **** again, just leave and keep on truckin'
You've other strands of life that you'll want to get to pluckin'
Living, it's called, a right serious sore temptation
To shed false airs and try for new sensation.

Oh, to die a death less valued
     Much that was once lost now lives
And yet, and yet...
     Here I find myself undone
By powers beyond my scope
     Such is my end.

Oh, such wonders wondered
     Living a life unloved
Waiting, waiting...
     A threat not voiced
Only spoken through silence
     A morning without sun.

Oh, what wroth hath writ
     Hope sharp as wit
Love a soft-spoke casualty
     Of a crushed and listing ship
Foundering on a shore
      This wielded weapon.

She's looked, you speak, finally, yes;
Dancing the talk of a child...
Hearts strong shall fight soft,
Falling, young, set, and sorry...
Held, they gave peace.

Soft music and falling leaves.

She's spoke, you look, finally, yes;
Knowing she heard sad in a bright laugh...
No reason, her mouth at peace,
Her eyes bring dear hell;
Lost, there is no longer a longer.

Snow brings the cold.

there is no cure quite like for the dour
than clean pyjamas post-long-hot-shower.
with a sigh and a hug and flannel kisses to yer ***
hot shower/clean pyjamas: for when a day is done.

Pure shadow, breathing;
seeing the question in your embrace —
     the color of heat...birds in a secret storm.  

Let's  be  tight.

Weak legs.

A crazy shine.

A dry catch, safe;
love's stone a spent breeze —
     laughter's lot...short emotions that needed to rise.  

Gentle sounds.

Closer.

Eat a star.

Minds died, began;
cool facts giving way —
     later...night's secret covers the skin.

There's one thing I want you to keep in mind: you decided it had to go down like this. You decided I wasn't worth it. You were the one who decided I was a waste of time.

And in case you're still wondering what being in a "real relationship" is all about: it's when you care so much for another person that you'd do anything to stay with them. Problems aren't problems as long as you have someone watching your back. You don't run away, you stay and fight for the other person, not just because it's the right thing to do, but because you love and care about the other person so much that you want the relationship to succeed. It's when everything seems right when they're there, and wrong when they aren't. It's when you know that no matter how low things get, you'll always have someone there to help you through it.

A real relationship means "us",  not you and I.

In the end,
you've only managed to pull the trigger first.
And yet,
knowing full well the consequences,
I struck on,
hoping that someday my love would fall true.

It was my mistake.

How was I to know
— a man bereft of possessions and purpose —
that you
— glorious, important, so very very tired —
required more than:
                    a single glance,
                              a sidelong smile,
                                        a tender touch,
                                                  a silent moment...

These things no longer exist,
or, at least,
if they do,
I have no idea how to find them with you.

There once was a man named Munn,
whose wife in bed was no fun;
but the horrible part
is when she would ****,
and say, "Get off, I'm all done."

Lying eyes
disguise goodbyes;
the Honest ones will tell you.

It's like love,
just to know that time
has taken you from my life,
my eyes,
my heart.

By day, the feeling is...away.

By night...the world makes
me say the words I think,
mind all the little things
I used to know.

I'm a man in the light,
a long look on my face,
left there to tell you,
"I need you."

Head up, smile in hand,
trying to make friends with the clock.

*I thought people were better than this.

A window flung open with drapes barging into the room,
The sun's smug shine tells my toes that the rest of the world is awake,
And so my eyes make their first journey into today's forever.

1 poet,
0 thought;
Wordy,
Often
Reaching
Deep,
Pens
Obdurately
Excessive
Mi­ssives.

A test is nothing more

than:

one man's way of gauging

another man's way of calculating

another man's way of thinking

all so pride may be synthesized

in forms of correct and incorrect

put to paper for someone's satisfaction.

My excuse?
                            —  I
                                  never learned
                                  to write a sonnet proper.

Marsh and Cope
lovers locked in embrace
took it upon themselves
to make each other great
by destroying what they had
all the while
mapping new life with old bones.

I occasionally
skip a beat
just
to watch you falter.

Should the earth die
a touch to make times stay,
a soft voice waiting, looking,
room for a kiss.

We stand at a great door
the moon's arms our friend,
our bed running beauty,
believing we're at sea.

O happy morning!
To help us understand,
this last night's song,
when men lay staring at stars.

This, a touch will do.

A sigh transforms
a breath into
a rainbow of meaning.

It's Christmas Eve
and here I sit
drinking a drink
and giving a ****.

The mistletoe's hung
way up in the air
on the semi off-chance
that you'll give a care.

With stockings and trimmings
and **-hoes and tree
and candies and dandies
and gifts not for me.

So welcome to Christmas
a wonderful time
with tannins and balms
and lonely red wine.

Perhaps the zombie,
in all his uncanniness,
is truly the definition
of asymmetrical anthropomorphism.

Perhaps the zombie,
with his slow shuffling gait,
is really the word
when it comes to unbridled determination.

And perhaps the zombie,
his hunger bottomless,
is indeed the very picture
of a man who can have it all.

Be Not Bitter in Thine Writings,
for They Be Most Wondrous Things;
Catacombious Monstrocities,
Though You May'st Conceive Them.
Words Stray'd and Pluck'd into Near-Woven Dressings,
Gone Fade with Thine Temperament—
These Things that You Shrug and Forget!—
Shall ****** Adventures unto the Intrepid,
Kind Caretakers as yet Unknown to These Days.

cannot hand in code
stupid website will not load
this is getting old

My cat howls at night. I sometimes wonder why.

I don't think it's 'cause he's lonely.
The door is open a crack and he knows how to get in.

Maybe he's going deaf. I heard that can happen.
"They howl real loud, like echolocation."

Or maybe my cat is a mutant.

All I can tell you, when he starts up like that,
is when I call his name he stops.
And comes into the room.
And jumps up on the bed.
And starts to purr.

So here's what I think—
that maybe what he's doing,
when he howls like that,
is scaring away the monsters so we can sleep.

I'll never understand
what could possess
one to tell one
that they have no skill?

How do you not know
that they know how to do
things you could never
master yourself?

And what if they ****
at math or soccer or
just being social
and stuff?

Maybe they have
this awesome innateness
that endows them ability
to rock your wife's socks off?

it's a fair thing when the air dreams
the windows tell me so
it's time again
to leave what we've got
while thought is deep and white and slow

so hunker down and enjoy the now
with a warm spot in the bed
tonight will pass
and tomorrow will shine
but for now we'll sleep instead