Not for want of rain, no
not why I give you my pain
expecting this immolation
to gain a self- in other words
mine and not yours
I wouldn't even want that,
the declarative words chanted
as my funeral pyre is pushed
into the current of any river
but especially the river of life
no, not me, I am not that
antique wife
Dear sir, if you are blessed
with luck and if time is your
friend, when seconds count
and especially at the end
no one will hear my charges
against you or wonder
at my pointed burning finger
as fire is overcome by water
and all is right again

Each time my eyes blink
its like a toddler banging
out a tune on a toy piano
And my eyebrows respond
with the black notes as if
to say hmmm or watch
yourself dear
Moving down to the nose
Well! What a cacophony
there! Every horn and
each in turn until
John Phillips Sousa
dies once again
You'd think the mouth
would be like the first
violin- nope that was
shut up long ago,
the screaming
stays
within

It was exactly one minute
After midnight when I fell
Madly for a shadow, a weak
Spot in that whole space/time
As if anyone would believe
In that old thing
Is love is love is love
Is not is not is not
No matter
I enjoy licking my wounds
My wounded heart, my
Syncopated madness
A march up the back of
A not so trusty ladder
A gift from a carpenter
Who fancies himself
Some sort of Jesus
Who ran out of nails
2,000 or so years ago
His mother bleats
YOU NEVER WRITE
YOU NEVER CALL
You and your fancy
Friends and all

I try to not make any
life altering decisions
when I don't feel in
my right mind, that is
mad, or simply
less than human
which isn't a bad
thing, I mean
in the absence of morals
even a chimp will end up
doing the right thing
but there I go
already bungling
one thought for
another
or, as I am wont to say
I DIGRESS,

What a quandary, then
when the very thing I want
to change is what is making
me crazy (and I say change
because being a moral
animal ****** is not
an option unless I hire
a chimp and
BUT I DIGRESS

I cannot even rely on
that whole ******* about
fight or flight- I am apt
to do neither while
being betrayed by
motor memory, no
I just sit and take it
dear and fight is not
the opposite of flight
nope nope nope
not around here

I've spent almost a decade
getting bashed around
the whole time remaining
as mute as a goldfish
(boy o boy- if goldfish
could *****! once again
I digress)

(Skip ahead ten stanzas)

I will not wait for her
to run out of weapons
there is no glory in
a war of attrition
although I do like
the idea of revenge
as long as it's done
thoughtfully and
with moral intent
or else with a chimp
let loose to eat her face
or not, I'll leave that
to Fate

what does little Ernest croon
in his death at afternoon?
(kow dow r 2 bul retoinis
wus de woids uf lil Oinis