Is it our nature
To cause intentional harm,
To make things suffer?

Do we find pleasure
When we terrify others,
Is this really us?

History has shown
A fierce beast resides within,
There’s a tame one, too.

All humans struggle
With Yin-Yang disharmony,
With the good and bad.

Some rationalize
There is a duality,
We’re devils and saints.

Humans **** humans,
Insatiable blood lust,
**** and **** again.

Humans help humans
There is charity and love,
How long will it last?

Is it our nature
To cause pain and to do harm;
Or, to pursue good?

Presumptuous, perhaps arrogant,
My perception of reality.
I invoke, with humility,
The Great Spirit and
Receive an answer.
Heavenly manifestations
In the form of trees,
Birds and dreams.
My reality.
But, what about me?

I am important.
I am destined.
I am.
I
Regulate and manipulate
My world.

Channeled energies, memories
Are brick and mortar
For the building of myself.
I build and build,
Adding rooms,
Windows, staircases.
My domain.
My center draws farther
From the edge.
Understanding expands.
I know more and more.
I sleep.

I dream of angels,
Of nature in bliss,
Of blue skies imbedded
With soft clouds,  
Of worlds--
Many, many, worlds--
And, I dream of myself.
I wake up.
I wake.
I

Am aware, facing
A being not of my choosing,
Beyond myself.
Shrill whistles,
Bright, flashing bulbs,
Agitated bees,
Forgotten memories,
Woven into the
Space that unfolds--
And more.
No longer under my control,
The earth spins on
Its axis.  
A world apart from me.
Presumptuous, perhaps arrogant,
My perception of reality.

Mesons, quarks, neutrinos, too
Drawn inexorably
Into eternity
To a finite point
Called singularity;
Rushing, streaming
Toward one juncture,
To a destination
With unknown structure.
Swirling, speeding
Into the abyss,
Reason, logic
Cease to exist.

Space and time
Merge in disarray,
Matter altered too,
No night, no day.
Warped, transmuted
Realities,
Become twisted, melded
Finalities.
Inconceivable dimensions
Reign supreme,
Nature’s laws violated
To extreme.

Crossing the event horizon,
No turning back,
Into the precipice,
Down a void of black;
Facing the vortex,
Light gasps in disbelief,
A terminal journey starts
Without relief.
Stars and galaxies
Give a sigh
As they spiral in
And begin to die.

One day we too
Will meet this fate;
The only questions are
The place and date.

She's blond, sleek, and hot--
Complaining about failing
A tough college course.

Busy barristers,
Make lattes, teas, and smoothies
On Valentine's Day.

She's quiet and shy;
Holds head down, sips a mocha,
Reads romance novel.

Nice, pretty women
Without candies or flowers,
Not looking for love.

Old, balding, obese--
He does not look too happy,
Wonder if he smiles.

Nice Asian features,
With a body to die for...
Still, she's not my type.

Do not bother me with your absurd theories;
Reason, logic, and evidence have no place
In the heart of the true and righteous believer.
Faith in holy texts should be your guide,
Your faith should be blind, unadulterated, and quintessential, or
Risk a dreadful and eternal damnation.

If Einstein knew so much
Why do they call his premise the “Theory of Relativity”?
If Darwin was so sharp, why is it the most
He could up with was the “Theory of Evolution”?
The answer is simple, they really had no clue,
They simply did some scientific research and, in the end,
They came up with nothing more than theories.
And, what about all those archeologists
Claiming the earth is billions of years old, or
Cosmologists with their “Big Bang Theory.”
Everything is nothing more than
Theories, theories, theories.

Turn your back on these absurdities;
Trust, instead, the ancient, sacred texts
That offer immutable, unquestionable truths.
How ludicrous the idea that
The world is more than 10,000 years old,
(Carbon dating of fossil rocks is just mambo-jumbo)
The universe and all creation
Were made in six days,
God, tiring after all that work,
(Wouldn't you after working 24/6?)
Rested on the seventh day.
It's there in black and white,
For everyone to see.
(Assuming you've read the right version)
Men were created from a clod of clay,
(Or mud, but you get the point)
Women from the rib of man
(Which is why they should be subservient to men).

What nonsense from biologist and paleontologist
That claim we evolved from micro-organisms and apes,
This notion is total sacrilege, a blasphemy.
Life is too complicated, too complex to just evolve,
Intelligent Design is the only answer,
All the talk to the contrary is nonsensical hyperbole.  
God made everything happen.
Read the holy texts, the truth is as obvious,
As plain as the tip of your nose.
Everyone knows that all the anthropological data,
All the purported archeological digs,
With reports of dinosaurs and missing links,  
Are fabricated to fit nerd scientists' preconceived notions of
What they would like everyone to believe.

When in doubt, refer to the holy texts,
You will see all the unsubstantiated, ludicrous claims
For what they really are:
Trash, trash, and more trash.
Do not bother me with your facts, or
Your scientific data or findings;
In the end, everything boils down to more idiotic theories.
Have unquestioning, blinding, and total faith,
Read the holy texts and they will set you free.
So, the next time someone questions your beliefs,
Claiming there is no merit or facts to support them,
Remind them that to question the word of God
Will send them, along with their theories,
Straight to hell.

Amen!

No *** for awhile.
Not really looking right now,
Give me your number.

Waterfall Rainbow:
We embraced on an outcrop,
Under a fine mist.

Her head on my chest;
She smiled, then falls fast asleep,
I fall asleep, too.

“What” I asked, “again?”
*** three times in one hot night—
I wanted to sleep.

Do not get too close—
I have had my fill of love,
Now you have been warned.

Nothing left to say,
This will be my last Haiku,
Still thinking of you.

Black Widow in bed
Waiting for the right lover
To ****** and eat.

I fell in love once,
The sweet taste lingered for awhile
Then turned quite bitter.

Love is a question;
No one has all the answers
We can only guess.

The first time we met—
My body overheated,
It hasn’t cooled yet.

My Chevy’s backseat:
Many memories linger
All of them are good.

Tina Turner said:
“What’s love got to do with it?”
I say, “Everything!”

My fidelity,
Along with my love, is all
I have to offer.

Here God,
Everything is for you:

Here are my
Testicles, looking like smashed purple grapes,
Bruised, mashed, and crushed along with what
Is left of my once proud, now exploded, tattered *****;
I have laid before you my
Disemboweled, bloodied and tangled intestines;
Blown into bits and pieces, here lays my torso along with
Shattered ribs, ruptured lungs, exposed internal organs:
Erupted heart; battered, split, spleen; torn, mangled liver;
Next to them, my legs, minus a few toes;
Arms with hands missing thumbs, fingers;
My head,
Less pieces of skull, cheek bones, nose, tongue, and teeth,
Is nearby;
Those puffy messes of glutinous, jellied, deflated ****** orbs are my eyes;
Over here, piles of chunks of obliterated pieces of flesh floating
On a thick soup of congealed blood, mixed and meshed with
Splintered, fractured, cracked bones; everything
Convoluted, disfigured, impossible to identify.

All of this is for you,
I am your martyr,
Your soldier,
Your obedient servant;
I blew myself up,
Along with many infidels including
Men and women,
Unborn babies and children,
Young boys and girls,
I tore their bodies to shreds,
Mangled and mutilated, they
Suffered deaths no nightmare could imagine.

I sacrificed myself for you,
Exemplifying piety and righteousness,
I await my reward,
Wait for you to put my pieces together again;
Been here for what seems an eternity and
You have not come near;
Not made me whole.
Where are you?
Are you not great?
Where are the young, innocent, ****** girls or
The boys with silky, pearl smooth skins;
Will I ever have an ******* again?
Uncomfortable, anxious, concerned I
Lay here on this sacred, hallowed ground,
Like a fleshy puzzle, scattered in jagged pieces,
Waiting to be solved;
Praying to be completed and recomposed.

Where are you God?
A virtuous, faithful, prostrated one waits;
I have much to show you.

He was only one, that day,
Standing alone to fill and gap the breech.  
No one else, but he, stood to face the onslaught,
The terror that charged forward,
Toward where he stood and held his post,
Where someone before had drawn a long line on the ground.
No one there to help, all had fled,
Intimidated by the imposing, closing threat
That was coming near.
All, but he, had run, and the time and the foe drew closer;
Making a last stand was not even on his mind,
Resisting was not a choice,
He would do what he could,
What must be done, until he could do no more.
Death took the defender that day,
But not easily.  
He fought until he had no more blood to shed,
With a final gasp, onto a bloodied ground he, at last,
Fell dead.
His enemies, his foes, stood in awe,
At the red-stained, battered corpse,
With sword still in hand.
After much deliberation,
The horde decided to turn and leave.  
If this one, lone sentry had courage such as this,
How much more an entire army that probably laid in wait.
Tactical retreat was the best option, and,
With that they turned about,
They left to conquer other lands.

His comrades came; took his body;
Pinned medals across his chest;
Said a few words reserved for heroes, and
Laid him to rest.
They glanced into the distant, disappearing dust and thought,
What cowards they must have been
To have let one lone soldier frighten them such
That they turned away.

There was only one, that day,
Standing alone to fill and gap the breech;
One soldier who stood the watch,
Who did not retreat.  

Armies are made of
One soldier at a time.

Blue-grayish waves lap summer's sun-drenched beaches,
eternal, soothing rhythm, an enduring melody, into the soul it reaches.
Neighboring celestial bodies, conductors of the tides, creating eon's symphony,
        embracing, pacifying music: a choral harmony.

Placid, glistening lake with fall moon's luminescent splendor,  
silvery, reflective mirror, still and serene, lying quietly in slumber.
Bright, streaming rays, upon the surface, become as two entwined eternally,
        brilliantly flowing: a beacon of tranquility.

White, pristine snow upon the meadow on a winter's early morning,
softly sown, caressing Mother Earth, pure and alluring.
Sol's rays shimmering on crystal flakes, a mosaic luminosity,
        sparkling diamond facets: a blanket of serenity.

Dew-covered fields patched with spring's wild flowers,
dazzling array, vibrant and alive, displaying rainbow's colors.  
A zephyr stirs bouquets of aromatic splendor, emerging reality,
       a living portrait masterpiece--a canvas of vitality.

Nature, an ageless composer, conceiving kaleidoscope showcases,
perennial seasons casting actors on scores of different stages.
Wise is it, from time to time, to pause in awe and humble reverence,
      and view a master artist's majestic, grand performance.

She bore three kids,
Cooked their meals.
Washed and cleaned,
Paid the bills.
Morning game shows
Brought her thrills,
Daytime dramas
Gave her shills.

She juggled schedules
Without a care,
Her kids' chauffeur
Going here and there.
To softball and soccer practices
To see them in a play,
It went on day after day.

The hurts and pains
Wouldn’t go away,
The wrinkles too
Were there to stay.
She moaned and groaned,
She pined all day
Of throbbing joints that ached.
Her hair started turning gray,
She's getting old, a big mistake.

Her rich husband said one day,
This life is not for me,
I'm going my own way,
I'm stifled, need to be free.
I'll give you child support,
You'll have alimony too,
The love is gone,
What else is there to do?

He went away
To start a new life,
She's on her own
To toil and strife.
He up and left her,
Very happy now,
He found himself
A trophy wife.

Vows broken
Fidelity compromised
Trust undermined
Love betrayed
Time heals
Forgetting a blessing
Remembering the torture
Anger subsides
Pain lingers
Bitterness resides
Rings off fingers
Interests wane
Desires gone
Losing sleep
Losing weight
Losing focus
Losing drive
Energy low
Where to go
What went wrong
Why
All not lost
Will not cry
Will pray
Will soon pass
Will live
To love again.

Alpha Male, born
Into this the world
To take over, lead,
Show the way, and
Otherwise take charge.
Alpha Male, dominant
By design of nature,
The strong survive, but
Cunning and courage
Have their place too.
Alpha Male, chooses,
Picks only the best, finest,
That is his right;
It is meant to be.
The when and where,
He decides too.
Alpha Male, leader
Of the Clan, where
There is trouble,
Where even savagery
Might be in order,
There he is too.
Alpha Male, born
Into this the world
To take over, lead,
Show the way, and
Otherwise take charge
Until a vibrant, young,
New Alpha Male
Comes along and
Kills the old one.

Cold, permeable raindrops
Fuse with warm, flowing tears,
Coursing down craggy furrows of
An unforgiving headstone.
An anguished face pressed tightly
To a glistening granite slab--
A column etched with memories
That will not pass away.
“Here Lies” is a reminder
That she was not a dream,
That on this earth did walk
An angel sent to him.
Instead of giving love,
He offered her empty promises--
Hollowed, unfilled commitments
That tomorrow would be kept.
A softly muttered prayer says,
“Please forgive me dear,
This final oath I make,
Tonight I will be with you
To plead for one more chance.”

Graceful swan,
On skates,
You stately glide;
Etching your past
For the world to see.
You exhilarate
In your moment;
Refusing to yield
To the bond of earth.
Twirling, swirling,
Poetry is manifest
Into exquisite motion.
Your rhythm and beat
Cut through the ice;
Body and spirit become
One with the element.

(Dedicated to Michelle Kwan)

What the future holds—
Life, promise, hope, joy, and love
Or death and despair.

A few good lessons:
The past is a great teacher
That many ignore.

A continuum:
Space and Time intertwine like
The vines of a rose.

Now or tomorrow?
For the procrastinator
The answer’s simple.

When will it all end?
War, poverty, and racism—
Only Time will tell.

I died years ago.
I was reborn when I found
The poet in me.

History’s lesson:
Those that repeat their mistakes
Are just poor students.

Some live in the past;
Others live in the future;
Few live in the day.

Past, Present, Future—
Somewhere in between one of these
Lies your destiny.

It was misery, sweet misery,
With its dark, gloomy clouds
That brought the flood of tears
That cleansed the raw, weathered
Crags etched on my face by
Yesterday’s eroding, bitter memories.

It was irony, sweet irony,
That removed its painted mask,
Revealing the stark madness
Of a reality that never was,
Or ever will be, what
It first appeared to be.

It was pain, sweet pain,
With its burning, searing insistence
That only through suffering
Can one find the Way that
Lead to my release from
The hurt and the agony.

Sweet misery, irony, and a
Not so sour pain;
Sweet, but only to my tastes.

Apes love,
Birds think,
Dogs smile—
Joy and thought
Not unique
To human spirit;
Emotions not exclusive
To the psyche.
Nature weeps
To cleanse the hurt;
Mother Earth sighs
No relief--
Humanity thinks
We are the ones,
We are the all, but
As creation whirls
We twist and turn,
Where it goes
We follow.
Inseparable are we
From the totality—
Locked in step
Toward our finality.

For sins of time long past
And wounds that would not heal;
Old hurts from yesterday,
The pain still sharp and clear,
He sought redemption and forgiveness
From a God he did not hear.
He found peace in contrition
Now there is no fear.

Its been so many years, since she passed through,
yet it seems like yesterday.
Her laughter and her smile,
     gold-green, dazzling eyes,
     body warm and tender,
     kisses, candy apple sweet,
     magical fingers’ silky caresses,
     moments of blinding passion,
     bright essence of her being,
more than linger upon my mind.

Sights, songs and sounds trigger memories
of sadness and of ecstasy.
Her presence was enchantment as I recall
       a spirited laughter,
       deep, penetrating gazes,
     caring in her touch,
     tender greetings,
     long good-byes,
     quite moments of silence,
indelibly imprinted on my soul.

Oh Time be merciful and help me to forget,
let my spirit heal.
Days and nights she haunts me, please show compassion and
      cleanse lingering recollections,
      dispel lucid visions of all that was,
      dismiss joyous remembrances,
      remove clinging tentacles of cheerful thoughts,
      erase poignant dreams of what might have been,
      tear the bonds to pleasant memories,
and break this curse that tightly grips my heart.

I’m doomed to always remember,
if only I had seen,
that she was my prayer answered.
But I, looking elsewhere,
failed to see and realize,
that from time to time
heaven and earth do meet.
An angel came down from heaven
and chose to love only me,
but I was too busy then
and so she flew away
leaving only memories.

Deep, dark, lonely blue eyes,
Casting her vision
Into the distance—beyond
The sight and senses.  
What are you thinking of?  
Who could make you so sad?  
Sitting there, alone,
On a small round table
With one empty chair.
What’s that you’re sipping,
Is it meant to heal the hurt?
Your beauty intimidates,
Would take courage to approach.
There’s so much love
I could give you, but,
I sit at my own round table
With its own empty chair.  
And, I do drink to forget and
Ease the pain.
I am trying to heal myself.
Wish I didn’t have
My own troubles, then,
I could go and take care
Of yours.

Unheard, desperate cries,
Falling on deaf ears,
Indifference of the times—
Prayers plead desperately
To a dispassionate God.
Innocence, youth, and promises
Are insufficient causes
To awaken the Almighty.

Screams reach out, piercing
The cold, uncaring night—
Featureless faces turn away,
Eyes look to distant horizons.
Anguished sounds, lost, dispersed
In frigid, fearful winds;
Easier to hear a pin drop
Midst the maelstrom
Of creation’s cacophony.

Eyes frozen in terror,
Mouth gaped and motionless.
A child lost in the wilderness,
Wandering aimlessly, hopelessly.
A young voice asks help,
Turning to a society
Who has itself, long ago,
Lost its way as well.

Timing is everything;
Even the weather,
Comes into play.
A cold and rainy
Late-Sunday afternoon
Is no time to end
A love relationship:
To say goodbye for
A very long time; nor,
To remember someone
Crying as you walk away.
Glistening, dark-colored umbrellas
Reflect sad, gray clouds
Drifting so slowly by.
Rain drops mask the tears:
The sighs and sobs of
Gloom weighed heavily by
An incessant, pervasive rain--
Pit, pat, pattering on
Tin roofs; or, plat, plop, plopping on
Foggy windows; or
***, tat, tattering
On walls already swollen
With grief and misery.
Yes, timing is everything!
Even the weather comes
Into play when you finally
Have to say to someone
“Goodbye”, forever, and,
“I do not love you anymore.”

To the Great Absolute I pray
That when I am gone and
Nothing but dust is left of me
That I may be remembered
For the joy and love I gave and,
For my prose and poetry.

Intoxicated with enchanted dreams,
I strive to weave poetic vistas
Filled with magic and illusions,
With unfolding multifaceted mirrored images
Of things that could or are yet to be;
Of joy and measured sadness and
Endless impassioned struggles.
I seek to capture love's raging fires,
Stoked by amorous energies,
To illuminate the darkness of despair,
Exposing paths to bliss and ecstasies.

With awe and reverence of creation,
From undulating, azure oceans
To canopies of sparkling, starry skies,
I script Mother Nature with all her majesty
With expansive, fertile fields
Filled with irises, lilies, and yellow daffodils;
Or snow-capped purple sierras and
Eagles circling pristine, placid mountain lakes.
I conjure prancing, dancing fireflies
On luminescent moonlit nights and
Winged horses gliding through the sky
Over golden spire peaks that rise
From gleaming, ivory castle towers,
Or heroic, quixotic noble quests
To right wrongs and vanquish evil
Until there's peace and harmony.

Give me, Great Spirit, the mental dexterity
To compose indelible, memorable stories
That will be etched in the annals of history.
Help open my mind’s eye to peer into eternity.
I feel tremors, murmurs in my heart
Beating, aching from within, longing
To write and write until I'm consumed,
Having fulfilled my karmic destiny.

Finally, when my pen runs dry
It will be my time to die;
I pray that at my passing
The world will pause and sigh.

I am the *****,
The hideous, maimed, disfigured--
You look at me with frowns.
My skin, with many tones,
Too scarred and blotched--
Always offensive to your eye.
You laugh at me,
I am one of your many clowns--
Sent to earth for your amusement.
You view me like a sinner--
God punished me and spared you.
I am the oddity, not quite right,
A freak of nature,
A distortion of the Creator’s beauty,
A sacrilege to your righteous self.  
I am the mold by which you judge
All imperfection.  
I am an outcast, an infidel, a curse,
An illegitimate child of heaven sent
As image of what you could have been--
Cast into the world to be
Looked at as half-human,
Made to feel less than whole, and
Knowing I will never be even a part.
My afflictions are your blessings,
My pain, your joy,
My tears, your happiness.
In me, you have a reason to be thankful.
Yes, I am the ***** and this I know for sure:
My fate was to be different;
My destiny unfolds, but not before
Your prying eyes; and
Most of all, I find great joy
Knowing that regardless my plight,
I will be always be me and
Never be like you.

Love has no memory
Save of itself, resisting
Intrusion into any realities
Beyond its senses,
Denying the existence of anything
Inviolate to the sanctity of
Its treasured illusions and delusions.
Pleasant memories; no confusions
Nor doubts about how beautiful,
How sweet it really was--

Love has only the memory of
How things should have been.

New millenniums
Have come and gone—
Echoes of
“The End is Near!”,
Cried throughout
The ages.
A Second Coming
Has passed,
A thousand times before.
The chosen people
Buried,
One hundred generations
Deep.
No promised glory,
Or wondrous rapture
For the believers
Overcome, instead,
By unforgiving time.

Listen to my song
As I  tell you
Why I cry.
Listen to the melody
And you will feel
A sigh.
Listen to the refrain,
Echoes, memories,
Times gone by.
Listen to the notes,
The highs and lows,
Asking why.

I cry and sigh
My days gone by
And wonder why—
This is my song.

I sacrificed a rose,
To an uncaring sun;
Laid to rest,
In full bloom,
To wilt on an altar,
The searing rays quickly
Turned the fresh stem to ash;
Rows of thorns shriveled
Into small charcoal clumps;
The velvet petals vanished
In a vapor of pink-hued dust.
Only the memory remained
Of that wondrous beauty
That betrayed me that night
When I found her in bed
Kissing the moon and I
Could not wait
For the sun to rise.

I fall to my knees,
Grab and grip the dirt in my hands.
The clods break into small pieces
With the slightest of pressure,
Slipping through my fingers
Like smooth sand.
It is the same dirt of my childhood.
The dirt I used to dig
To make smooth cup holes
In which to drop my marbles.  
The dirt I used to push and form
Into barriers and forts
To protect my plastic soldiers and me.
The same dirt my ancestors walked and worked.
The sweat, tears, and blood are all but dried, yet,
It still feels and smells just like yesterday’s.  
Nothing has changed except me.  
I feel as old as the dirt.

What is it that brings
Fear in the night?
Is it the goblins and ghosts, or,
The monsters ‘neath our beds?
Or, is it a desire to face the sun
At the moment of our death,
To die for the world to see?

Darkness, nowhere to hide.
It follows everywhere.  
A strong desire not to die
In dark, damp shadows,
Where not even the worms
Can find the body.
An all-consuming will to see
A sunrise, once more,
To lose the dread of having
To die alone…Flies
Will keep one company.
Yet, the terror begins to set
As the daystar gasps its last breath.
The light wanes once more, and
The chilly, wet breeze begins
To lap the nape:
Hairs on end, it comes again,
Loneliness and the reaching to feel.
Eyes squinting, desperate
To soak the day’s last rays.
Then uncaring, merciless nature replaces
Twilight with shadows of doubt.
The flicker of candlelight casts
Those same reflections and shapes
That plague your reality.
And you ask again:

Why you?  
Why is it you have to die?  
And, if this be your fate,
Can it please be by daylight?

Standing there and observing from afar,
Life on the Earth is difficult, I must report,
Explaining, in part, why many lives are
Full of constant complaint and retort.

Anguish is obvious, but the Buddhists say,
Pain is natural and only part of life;
They preach one proceeds along a Way
Strewn with joy and with strife.

I would hold with another teaching
Of the Buddha:
One creates their own suffering most times,
Never searching inside a self
That can make all things known.

This, and more, I heard some mention.
My documentation points to inattention
To important things in life like recognition
Of Nature's gifts that receive little attention.

I have seen from prolonged observation
There is really much to appreciate,
Yet, most spend time cursing creation
Filled with anger and lamenting fate.

Great Spirit, my recommendations are inside
This brief that I humbly submit.
The evidence is clear, nothing to hide:
Humanity is a hopeless case, I now admit.

The extent of their evil is hard to believe,
Many even resort to killing in God's name.
That they possess promise is hard to conceive,
Violence, mayhem, and carnage are more their fame.

If latent good could yet emerge
I might well argue let them continue.
But, they are a lost cause, so, I urge
Transform the world into something new.

Yes, I recommend you start anew,
Let birds or lizards dominate, give them a try.
Whether the human species lives or dies is up to you,
Though while alive; Earth will moan and Nature cry.

Lost to temptation,
Beyond redemption,
Beyond regret
Cannot forget, yet
Set to try, to cry, to fly away and not
Look back were that the memories
Could be left behind,
As well, but to no avail
The travail that follows
Like the dark Karma waiting around the bend
To end, to send you back
To whence you came.  
Since when has life been fair?  
Are you aware, do you see
The consequence of spreading misery?
Beware of what awaits you there
Where you lost your innocence when you flung
Yourself across the expanse of a life of waste
Without haste or taste of anything but bitterness
And
The Gods want to collect,
Want more retribution,
Punishment bestowed on your immortal soul
That you all but sold
As you were asked to take
A stance and, instead, you chanced
And you lost.
There is no turning back, no justice,
Life is unfair--When it comes to be
That your destiny lies for all to see--
A macabre tale unfolding and unfurling.
And, no, there is no escape as the winds of fate
Continue to blow
Relentlessly across a barren landscape
That never sprouted hope nor was ever
Seeded by faith nor even, it seems,
Dreams with beams of inspiration or illumination and
You now find yourself caught in a vortex
That twirls and swirls,
Drawing you near, toward a center where even
Fear is a useless emotion,
A waste of energy, motion, and effort;
For you are promised to reap what you have sown
And the seeds planted long before,
That lay deep within, now germinate and
Begin to break the surface and hell
Starts to rise toward you.  
Lost to temptation,
Beyond redemption,
Past any regret
But all is set, no need to fret,
For what will be, well you know,
Because you now recognize that
You lost forever
Many years ago.

Right about when eternity starts to become old and weary and
Time has begun to lose its elasticity just as it has finally come around to reach
Its end and found its beginning;
The uncountable fragments that make the vast cosmos will congeal to form again
That we may be made whole once more;
Matter will become ultra-dense,
Compressed almost to the very brink of oblivion until critical mass is finally attained then
With unimaginable heat, fury, and eruption,
We will be violently expelled and propelled into a cold, desolate, and expanding unknown;
Scattered and dispersed to become the pieces of a ****** firmament;
Cast without mercy into the black void, we will be forced to restart a journey along
The long and circuitous route that has been called forever.
The structured laws of random chaos will dictate when it is that
We reach the first stage of a cycle that has neither origin nor finality;
There reorganized particles will germinate and initiate the process of renewal
Creating entities that will manifest in myriad ways;
Each nascent reality holding within itself the same promise of creation
That is as natural as dying and rebirth, as constant as motion and change and
As normal as the universe’s transformation from being the composite of all things
To becoming the totality of absolute nothingness.

A full crew, we went to sea
There are three of us left now
Eddie, Billy and me—
The first lost an eye, the latter a hand, and
I walk around on a stump
From an old, oak tree.

In search of adventure and glory
We set sail and cast off
Only two of us now to tell the story—
Ed is gone, Bill almost and
I sit on a pier
Dwelling on the ocean’s fury.

The sea has no need of sirens
For she is the queen of temptation
Drawing the young and the old
To her cold and merciless *****
To hold and to keep in her cradle
Those fools who would live forever.

As for us, we escaped,
Though we left behind body pieces.
Now it is only me that is still around
I think I will carve our tale
On this wooden leg and
Leave it to posterity.

No one came that day, nor
Any other day, to his birthday party,
Nor to say “Hello”, “Good-bye”, or “How are you?”
Nor for any other event, now that he
Thought about it,
    No one came.
The day he had 104, sweating like a pig and
(Do pigs really sweat?) was delirious and weak,
    No one came.
The day he broke his leg.
The sharp, jagged bone, incising
The skin, blood everywhere, held tightly
By two belts and
    No one came.
The day he received his diploma,
Summa *** Laude!  How much better?
Work and school, no time to play, now
To rest a bit and celebrate, but without
Anyone to share the joyous moment,
    No one came.
The day his heart felt feint,
Must be how a volcano feels when
It is about to erupt, he had thought
Just before a crushing hand squeezed
Brought quick, excruciating pain, and then
He was dead; laid cold and still and
    No one came.