Your life’s but a shadow
he’s a king of the earth
he’s secure in his place
he knows his own worth.

He‘s lacking all burdens
his smile merits bliss
by the King be commanded
you’re deemed worthy young miss.

The lady‘s so lucky,
as a rose meant for plucking,
this brawling, rough rogue,
- this heir to earths throne,
deems her worth the f—king.

I chuckle demurely,
“Be away drunken sir
- leave me to my studies
- go chase other skirts
with your fraternity buddies.”

I startled awake, early Sunday morning,
fraught - my mind, darting like a panicked animal
because my assignment calendar
is wet, smeared and illegible!

Total darkness - I fish for my phone by it’s cord - it reads 3:08am.

I flop back onto a cloud of thick, memory foam.
Ahhh, jeeez, it was just a DREAM.

Of course, my assignment calendar
is safe, digital, redundant, cloud backed up.

“THAT was a little morbid.” I think,
as I drift back out of consciousness.

Dissolve your genuine self
hide your natural traits
deny your heritage
forsake social interests
and embrace the darker side of love.

Be reborn, departed Shakespeare
for now is truly the time to quench
your perpetual attraction to madness.

Threatened by the cruel hounds
of distemper and heated atmospheres,
our broken trusts and unhealthy emotions
set a luxurious bed for extravagant madness.

Be freed from truth, beloved bard
and unbound by complex thought
- relish in weakening America’s
obsessional social dysfunction.

What if you feel like dancing?
I mean when you’re in class
or standing in a pandemically
distanced line - you know
INAPPROPRIATE times?

And what if you feel like singing
but you’ve been told your singing
is like the screeching of an angry cat?

What if you’re being stared at
because you’re pencil tapping
or head bobbing to a happy tune
that’s only playing between your ears?

What if you’re smiling to yourself
despite having to read 300 pages
every night for homework?

Happiness can strike, like a thunderclap
or in my case - the morning alarm.
I mean, have you ever found yourself
quivering with uncontrollable happiness?

Do angels, those exchequers
of heaven’s golden shores,
have hearts or humor
as they focus on us with
their greedy, eternal attention?

They must be well-acquainted
with vice and the offending elements
of our ingrained, mortal weaknesses.

I’ve read those frampold canaries
- at man’s creation - coveted the gift
of choice, cruelly denied them - freedoms
that can corrupt the weak and too human.

How do those singers of exquisite songs
still find worthy peers to invite home
unless they pity, forgive or grant
endless sufferance which must,
at least in practice, resemble love.

(a five minute poem - sorry, that’s all I’ve got)

I came to the university
to get some needed privacy
- to learn about the world
and give adult life a whirl.

I’m up here in the frozen north,
where I expected cold and polar bears
and the pressure of academic cares
- but there’s a storm every week
- my mom, back home, has started to freak.

This weather feels like Florida
should we keep the windows boarded-up?
Can we get the power back?
The butteries are flooded
- we can’t get snacks!

I think it’s all hilarious
and so far, a peak experience.
This looks like one of my best decisions
in spite of natures interventions.