Merry Christmas, the voice greets me
humbug I mutter under breath
greed hatred jealousy
only things you live with.

Keep to yourself your mirth
I sullenly brood
such lies are too heavy for this earth
done this place no good.

Relations under cloud of doubt
each soul bears a grievous injury
merriment had long gone out
the greet is just empty.

It's a pity you still find it merry
with all the injustice inequity
men classified quartered
children for food bartered.

Merry doesn't the word stink
while some choose what to drink
fuss about the flavor to savor
many reach it by miles' labor.

Merry can't hide away the glum
of human habitats in dingy slums
strewn on pavements under open sky
breathing refuses left to die.

Still, Merry Christmas to you, says the voice
the time is to give and rejoice
the world though truly is what you say
haven’t You, I, We, made it that way?

What I want
For Christmas is
Just the barest
Of necessities

All my teeth
Not just two
So when I eat
I can chew

A skip and jump
Back in my step
So each morning
I have some pep

A pair of glasses
Which self defrost
A set of keys
Which don’t get lost

All my hair
Put back in place
So I don’t have
That barren space

A pair of shoes
With self tie laces
So I don’t have to
Reach those places

A set of arteries
That don’t plug
A nice cold beer
Which I can chug

To have someone
My brain equip
With that new fangled
Memory chip

So it can tell me
My intent
When I stood up
And why I went

A bunch of prunes
Which are pre dated
To work just when
I’m constipated

A gizmo that will
So to speak
Turn off my wee wee’s
Little leak

So I don’t have
I’ll just be blunt
Those little dribbles
In the front

A cork that fits
My *** hole, please
So hemorrhoids don’t pop out
Whenever I sneeze

A longer arm
That would pass
Behind my back
To wipe my ***

On this I’ll end
My little list
I don’t want Santa
To get ******
BOEMS BY JA 103

One drop of rain travelled all the way from the sky
to die on the window pane
- a perfect prism to watch the world through.

I want to tell him
that I’m scared,
that I’ve been here before.
And that the last time I felt potential like this it imploded;
I imploded.
But I don’t want to taint it,
You see I’m still hopeful
That maybe this time
Won’t end up laced with maybes,
Or what ifs,
Or open wounds pouring blood onto paper.
That maybe this time,
just won’t end.

I’ve not quite worked out whether I think it’s beautiful,
Or stupid -
The human capacity,
And pliancy,
And longing,
For love.

When i'm with you
I just don't want the day to end
I just wish for time to be frozen
'Coz the times i spend with you
Are the most serene times of my life
Times filled with sheer magic
Times i feel fortunate to experience
One day we both will merge with the earth
Our bones will become dust
Our names will be lost in time
But the times i've spent with you
They shall forever remain etched in my memory
'Coz the times i spent with you are immortal
Forgetting those times is not an option

I fell in love
With the man
Behind the mask,
The actor
Beyond the
Performance,
The tears
Under
The smile.
I fell
Without looking
For a rope.
I fell
And still fall
And smile
While I do so.

How's your life?
How's your wife?
How's your stress?
How's your strife?

Made any progress yet?

Going up?
Going down?
Coming back around?

I just have one question
What is it that you've found?

Strategies for living
They come and go

One minute you don't know
The next minute you do

One minute you have it all figured out-
The next minute you're filled with doubt.

It's a twisted ******* mess
we're in.

You either keep it on going
or
You step on outside trying something else

Having no answers
doesn't help
You just gotta figure it out
How
to take care of yourself.

Yikes!

Good luck!
Good luck
Good luck.

It's a *******'
life
we're living -
Don't you think?

I'm a murderer
I've stabbed my own heart.
I'm a thief
I've stolen my own happiness.
I'm a liar
I've told myself how much better things would be.
I'm a slothful woman
I fell asleep.
I'm greedy
I've eaten my own pain.
I'm hungry
Just not for sin again.

What did Sisyphus know
About a slippery *****;
Shoulder to stone
His feet groped,
Shifting inclinations;
Each step consequential,
A mythic joke.
Wiggle the toes,
Feel for the edge,
Sliding is inevitable.
We have no victims
On  fallacious slopes.

Which lost hair defines bald;
Which millimeter makes you tall;
How many dimes makes one well off;
Which freckle makes you cute or beautiful;
Which ounce makes you fat,
From thin to Bottacelli.
Where does one begin?

Removing sentiments,
One at a time,
You find you straddle
The love/hate line,
A line drawn on a mountain top,
And splitting  your Sisyphus rock.

Texture or feel
slipping slowly,
gently down
seems to be a little gooey.

First to look at it,
then perchance
a little sniff,
to see what
olfactory sensation it may bring.

Scent in check
with no critter parts.
I poked it now
to see what tactile property,
it might have.

It was not firm,
seemed to jiggle.
Unconcerned stepping up,
grabbed a fork.
Don't usually eat things,

that move, that are green.

I SLAMMED THE DOOR SO HARD, THAT IT COULD HAVE FALLEN OFF IT'S HINGES,
THE SAME WAY I COLLAPSE TO MY KNEES SOMETIMES.
I SLAMMED IT WITH THE KIND OF FORCE THAT IT  TAKES ME TO LOVE, AND GOD KNOWS I LOVE WITH THE POWER OF EARTHQUAKES AND TORNADOS COMBINED.