I’m so easily distracted
My inner vision gets refracted.
While I’m nothing like a dope
Inside my head a kaleidoscope
Makes the movies in my head
Sometimes keep me in bed
Until I see the world squarely
But, that happens so rarely.

I’m regularly absentminded
And organizationally blinded;
The kind who walks across the floor
And forgot what he was going for.
It’s not that I can’t tie my shoes
But may not know which remote to use.
But, if I set something down somewhere
I might not be able to find it on a dare.

In school I went to the wrong classes
And could almost never find my glasses.
It would be wise if people would wear
Name tags that tell me who and where
We know each other in full detail.
If left to me, every time I will fail.
It’s not that I am a brainless person,
It’s just that I’m the forgetful version.

I was told all about revering flag
All men equal in land of the free
Then a guy hit a guy, called him ***:
Some equality. The guy he hit was me.
All I heard back then was constant rebuke
And thinly disguised batches of scorn.
So much so that I wanted to puke.
It was like they blamed me for being born.

What am I saying? They did blame me!
They wanted me to act more manfully.
There was never a another way but theirs
Not even if you are one of their heirs.
Wait, especially if you are related to them!
Who you are, the way you are is scary
Because it might make others question
Are they gay and why did they even marry?

So, I got the ugly looks and glances;
The hatred and the ugly names daily.
No chance of happy-ever-after romance
Because I was being taught to hate me.
And other gays, were taught self-hate too
And taught that they were not good.
I would have gladly reversed the situation,
In a hot minute, if I was sure I could.

But the ruling class was straight men
And their homophobic old boys club
And usually their families went along
So, there was no fix. Aye, there’s the rub.
I would be an adult before I realized
The idea is to ignore bigoted fools
And make room in your own heart
For a much more loving set of rules.

Class clown;
Absolutely guaranteed to
Constantly fool around
Never do what you want him to.
Will astound
With outbursts meant to
Irritate, regale, distract
Take breath away and shock you.

Upside down;
Yes, he’ll stand on his head
He loves to make faces
And use accents like the poorly bred.
Turn around,
And moon from a swiftly passing car.
That gets attention just fine
And that is how his jokes usually are.

Noise abounds.
Songs, that are ***** parodies
Or words and music he made up;
Creating portraits of current company.
Laughs found.
Especially if the joke’s not on you.
Class clown.
Entertaining is the only thing he can do.

I admit that I am like a kid
When I see what I just did
Sitting here alone at home
And writing a really fine poem.

I giggle and dance a bit
Like a rockstar with a hit.
I have to dance, I can’t sit.
I celebrate for a little bit.

I don’t need the world’s applause.
That's like waiting for Santa Claus.
But the approval gives me pause.
Writing is a good enough cause.

It feels so good, it’s physical.
In fact, I’ll claim it is lyrical,
Mystical, and very much musical.
Something like a literary miracle.

I have written down my soul
And that was my entire goal
To communicate is my role
And it came out strong and whole.

So, I write it up and send it out
And maybe mine is the only shout,
That is good enough to brag about.
And sometimes it develops clout.

Some of them gather many fans
Writing doesn't disrupt my plans
But my words have passed through hands
And I am happy with what I began.

She wanted to have a lover
That society wouldn't allow
She wanted to be married
But maybe not just now.
She wanted to have a baby
But she didn’t know how.
She wanted to be a wife
But she felt she was a cow.

Star crossed lover
All in one twisted person.
Stuck being a mother
Unequipped to be a good one.
Primitive cave dweller
Abandoned in modern time.
What she felt life did to her
Was an unfair personal crime.

Each time one would see her
Steam was building up inside;
A Vesuvius about to blow
Fire never banked, never died.
Walk on eggshells, careful words
Often not know what went wrong;
Something so carelessly said
As the disastrous day went along.

Maybe the child just said no
Or failed at some assigned chore.
Maybe the kid broke something
Or perhaps just slammed a door.
Then the punishment starts in
With screaming and foul names
Leaving welts and bruises in
Her standard sadistic game.

It would be so much better
If this was all an exaggeration.
But no, this is the ugly truth
So please take a suggestion.
Before we force another
Generation just like the rest,
Let’s make intended parents
Take a psychological test.

The rich man might just believe
He can buy all he ever wants
But he didn’t do it all alone
No matter how he flaunts.
The factory that bought him
His mansion and his yacht
Exists because he had plain folk
To build him what he’s got.

The litter bearers took him
Wherever he wanted to go.
The farmhands used their strength
To *** fields and make them grow.;
Mechanics and the engineers
Are who made his fine wheels turn.
So, why is this such a hard lesson
For the rich among us to learn?

Without us they are nothing,
Just overdressed blowhards
With rich antecedents and
A stacked deck of cards.
Not every poor person would
Know how to handle great wealth
But maybe could try if it weren't
For their talent and great stealth.

Something happens to rich people
When they deal with the poor.
They forget about their Bible
And what that teaching is for.
Some forget the Torah and
Yet others forget the Quran
As if those who speaks of decency
Are a political also-ran.

So I should be forgiven if I
Wish they fail at their work
And they have to toil in the field
Like those of us they call jerks.
I wish their wives had to
Patch their household clothes
Then pray the place they live in
Is not subject to be foreclosed.

We once had a government
That worked hard in our favor
To rescue us from carpetbaggers
But now they’re a much nastier flavor.
After almost a century of work
To build a nation for the common good
Programs are being thrown out by
A batch of Congressional deadwood.

On twitter, he's the twit,
And he does it without wit.
His twits aren’t worth a ****,
But still he just won’t quit.
He’s such an outrageous ***;
An obviously halfwitted twit
Whose lightbulb isn’t quite lit
So spoiled, he doesn’t know it.

He constantly throws late night fits
And calls all of his betters twits.
Seems to have a case of mental zits.
We really want to kick him where he sits.
He never found education a good fit,
To him, being rich is as good as it gets.
He argues based on just tats for ****
He hoards every dime he gets in his mitts.

He thinks his taste is the Ritz
But it’s much more like the pits,
Made up like some madame’s kit.
Always the tackiest kind of glitz.
But any place this fat pig sits
Soon is covered with gaudy bits
Like some fairy tale ogre ditz.

Chronic insomnia must be the pits
Early morning hours, there he sits
Posting on the internet, collecting hits
Driving the Liberals out of their wits.
His ideas are the absolute pits
Even though copied by Brits
And they give sane people fits;
A lot like living through The Blitz.