Look man
I know life
It seems pretty bleak.
We all like
To jest
And make each-other
Look weak.

You've joined in too,
Please don’t deny,
You’re saying I’m blue
And of the bickering kind.

Well I think that’s just rude,
Although a bit true,
That you've just assumed
That I miss loving blooms
In warm summers
Breezing lovely songbird tunes.

Just let me say:
I love the Thrushes,
Finches, and Jays.
King Fishers
Fishing all day.

You see?
I hear songbird tunes.
Now won’t you tell me
That you've heard some too?

Have I told you of the seasons?
Fall endings, winters blue,
And spring’s tree sons?
Please and thank you.
I love that you've given me a reason.

It’s not like people love to share words,
Through and through,
Like season's turn
From orange
To red
To blues
And green's hue.

I’m not trying to bicker,
Or be slicker,
I just like to snicker
And be jocund or lesser.

So thank you for the inspiration
From your modest interpretation
Of the infinitely doubtful implications you see
When others debate on philosophy,
The abstract, the riddles, trite jests, even
The summer breeze and society.

I heard someone say
Science is a noose,
Society a stool,
And philosophy
The dubious
Kick.

Well I'd say:

Society sets the rope,
Stool,
And gives the kick.

Science saves my life
Before I hit
The end of my rope.

And philosophy helps
Me cope
With the reality
That everything
I'm told to believe
By society
Was meant
to set me free,
while secretly
They said,
"Ah, Schucks!
Let's hang'em instead!"

It’s raining,
And I’m taking refuge,
Watching a bridge
Withstand a river deluge.

Drinking the sight of waters rage,
The ebb and flow of each new age.
My faces are glazed,
Until I exchange my gaze
For a traveler
Treading
Woe.

In a hastened pace to stave disgrace
By their cultural need for saving face.
Their mind unlaced,
Glancing through
Time’s passage;
They can’t see the message,
Blind to choosing a clue.

I assume their fear
For failing to adhere
To societal passages,
Spurred by the purchase
Of each new dear.

I feel their urgency surging waves of gravity;
Tied tides, I can taste the apocryphal surgery.
It hurts me,
To see their druthers change hue
Just so they can drink the dangers they’re daring,
Slaking their need for this fixed way through.

Un-damming a plea,
Steeped in empathy,
“Be patient. Please,
May I help you see?
That this river is
Swifter
Than you or me.”
All spilling from my heart's case,
And my mind.

“Can’t YOU see?
I haven’t the time and hardly the space.
I must keep trudging if I’m to keep pace,
In the race for the sun
And all that’ll never come
Undone.
Now keep you to yourself and--oh, never mind!”
Damming their course,
Leaking remorse lined remedies.

With each new step, the last one readies,
Traveling rapidly towards temporal eddies;
Vexed whispers in the flow of things,
Watch this fellow in the context of streams.

This friend thinks they can churn and rage
Against the turning of an age.
I really thought that they could too,
Oh! How I wish this stream’s course true.

Instead I watch the warrant
Of ridged destiny
Abridged,
Tearing under river's torrent;
I’m drinking in a travesty,
Of purely slickening torment.

The levees brim then burst.
The waters rage and rumble,
Spilling over bridge a-tumble.
“Don’t take me!”
My neighbor’s footing starts to crumble,
Their mettle and meter all a-jumble.
It is a tragedy.

“I’M DROWNING IN COMEDY!
What do I do?!
Can I do?!
Will I do?!
Should have done?!
Would have done?!
Could have done?!”
Nothing.

So I watched my dear friend swept
Away and wept
Into my hands.

I gave them a rope,
And found them hanged.

Then,
Looking up,
I realize something:

It’s raining,
And I’m taking refuge,
Watching a bridge
Withstand a river deluge.

Drinking the sight of waters rage,
The ebb and flow of each new age.
My faces are glazed,
Until I exchange my gaze
For a traveler
Treading
Woe.

There’s a harbor,
In which I‘m swimming
Sideways
With a neighbor.
We’re savoring a gray day,
Faintly misting inlay.

I looked to them to say,
“It’s such a drowsy day.”
To which, with weary,
They said,
“I think you mean dreary.”

At this I tilted my head,
And yawned,
“No.
I feel I mean drowsy.”

In opposites we
Watch hushed mist drops
Silently
Drift
down.

Mirrored in lay, I
Saw my face holed, clamored, and
Watched it melt away.