Much of life
is erratum
pain, angst, regret,
remorse, boredom

Give me a poem
  read me a poem
I'm sinking
I'm dying
come, come my way
soon it'll be end of day
bless me, oh bless me
with the balm of poetry
I'll close my eyes-gladly
as I drift to the welcoming eternity.

Your language
  you must constantly mind
  words don't forget you
though you've left them behind

The same door
   you entered before
   did it make you
   observe something new?

It's not your good look
       that would make you a success
       yourself you have to prove
       all else fails to impress.

A pair of old boots
inherited from my dad
the farm is now mine

It's a myth
a metaphor
Golden Rule
an error--

though fragile and imperfect
as we poor humans are
what should rule our life
should be simple: kindness does go far.

My heart will not reveal
its secrets to me
even though I entreat and beg
it cares not of my agony.