Come hither.
Come by.
Come soon.
Come whence.
Come forth.
Come up.
Come hence.
Come often.
Come now!
Come back.

My reincarnation theory's fraught
With personal reasons to come back;
So many battles to be fought,
One lifetime's just not enough.
Hindus, Muslims, Christians, Jews,
Have tried to tell us what to choose;
But on my own,
If truth be known,
I've decided to return,
If you'll come back with me,
We could do it all again.

He knows it is poison, yet indulges.
It's the one way he's learned to live through it.
And so stays dry. It's sobering.
For months and months and months,
It's a life he enjoys.
Then comes the itch, so the plan is engaged.
Leave and become a stranger,
A pub-fly in Ireland.
And when he returns, Day One is at hand.
The cleansing is on.
For three days he digs, buries himself
In the dark.
Wretching and heaving til bruised.
Step by step by step...
A red face lights the sink basin,
Water, not tears fill his eyes.
By eight tonight Day Two begins.
But that's still hours away.
Back to the sink.
When  Day Three dawns,
He rises and walks out.
Step by step by step...

The Supreme Commander
Doesn't drop his pants
To reveal his shortcomings.

Hmn………………………..  I see what you mean. I'm thinking on it.
Mn. .................................……I'm not sure I agree.
Mn hmm....………………… Totally agree. Yes, let's go forward.
Huh....……………………... Whaaaaaaaaaaaat
Uh huh...........................……...Ok. I'm listening, but let me talk.
Tsk Tsk....……………………I don't approve of anything you say.
Um.....………………………..Let me think about it. I'll get back to you.

The Big Bang is soundless.
The galaxies dim.
The universe contracts.
Compared to you.

Evolution has peaked.
Humanity is humane.
Nature can nurture.
Compared to you.

Family takes root.
Generations prove lineage.
I, Me, Mine are ours.
Compared to you.

Life has no end.
Death has no beginning.
Compared to you.

If you're complicit
It's not illicit
To keep your mouth closed.
But, know you this,
When women are dissed
With words like ***** and **,
You're surely committing
Sins of omission,
From your head
Down to your toes.
You left no doubt,
When you didn't speak out,
You're spineless
And missing marrow.

We were marched into the room,
Told to disrobe, to leave our belongings behind.
The room was locked.
Hard to concentrate;
Harder to look straight
In our anxious states.
We lined up, entered en masse,
Into the showers.
We were Southsiders;
Italians, Poles, Irish and mixed,
Nervous whispers, shielding tensions,
Standing by the poolside.
The whistle blew,
And thirty boys dove
In the comfort of the pool.

Bruce,
The first American
To commit euthanasia
In the media,
And later,
Be interviewed.

…out of the mouths of Babes...

Everything comes to those who wait.
Even a worm will turn.
If wealth is lost, nothing is lost. If health is lost, something is lost.
     If character is lost, all is lost.
If knowledge is power, how did he become POTUS?
Love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.
Tell me who your friends are, and I'll tell you who you are.
Revenge is a dish best served cold.
There is no shame in not knowing; the shame is in not finding out.
A penny for his thoughts is price fixing.
As you make your bed, so must you lie in it. Don't wash your *****
     sheets in public.
Empty vessels make the most noise.
Every man has his price.
People who live in glass houses should keep their pants up.
Shrouds have no pockets.
The Devil looks after his own.
To err is human, to forgive... Meh!
What goes up must come down.
You are what you eat (hambuglers?)
Let the punishment fit the crime.
It is better to smarter than you appear, than to appear smarter
     than you are.
If you lie down with the dogs, you get up with the fleas.
Money earned by deceit, goes by deceit.
Open confession is good for the soul.
Patience is a virtue.
Behind every great man, there is a woman being paid off.
Ask my companions if I be a thief.
All roads lead to imprisonment.
If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well.
The big apple is rotten to the Corps (a soldier's lament)
A journey of a lifetime begins with a subpoena.
The chain of command is only as strong as its weakest ****.
He who pays the ******, rents the room.
It takes a hundred lies to cover one lie.
It's hard to juggle sand.
**** the chicken to scare the monkey.
Like father, like son.
No man can serve two masters.
One may as well be hanged for sheep as well as lamb.
Nothing is certain but death and Tax Returns.
No rest for the wicked.
Russians make strange bedfellows.
Give a man enough tie and he'll hang himself.
Fences make bad politics.
Little things please little minds.
Fish always stink from the head downwards.
From the sublime to the ridiculous is only two questions:
     What did you know? When did you know it?
The truth will out.
The longest day must have an end.
Pride comes before the fall (so do a lot of other deadly sins)
Put your money where my mouth is (S.D.)

     Red tie at night. Donny's delight.
     Red tie at morning. Stormy gives warning.

Seek and ye shall find.
Speak as you find.
Out of sight. Out of mind.

When does the best come out:
A scream? A shout?
When in judgement of our friends,
Animals and sibblings;
Or teachers and politicians,
Seldom in Amen.
So often in the end.
So now, before me,
Me, with your first steps,
The same who dressed you,
Then drove you when the sun rose,
'Til the lid closed,
On many we loved best.
We have years to go,
'Til what rest
Comes out,
After so much consternation.

Malcontents are contrary.
Praiseworthy comments
Find antithetic lamments
Filled with spite and bile.
If somethings are good,
It's understood,
They're twisting all the while.
They argue black and white,
Or night and day;
Wear blinders to other ways.
They just don't see the rainbow.
Every query has three sides;
Their's is there to despise;
Contrary to pluses
Of the other three sides.

Versifyin'
Isn't dyin',
But man,
It's hard to do.
Words and lines
Sound like cliches,
What once
Was old
Is new..
Familiar phrases
Crowd the pages,
Causing such to do.
Can anyone write
Anything new.
Did I write that;
Overhear a wit?
Read it in the loo?
I'll note it down,
Sit,
Sweat and swap,
Get off the ***
And write it.

I don't purloin
Pretty Woman
Because Roy
Is older than me.
To write Yesterday
Is almost to say,
I've hijacked
Sir McCartney.
Write Daffodils,
And see what thrills
That word brings to you.

We may overuse them,
Unwittingly
Abuse them,
And with some we amuse,
But they're ours,
Put to good use
With me.

The number of chords
Limits the hordes;
Repetition ensues,
The decry is sung:
I've heard that song before.

The great ones of writing
Are cause for citing,
By we and me and you.

Can't contrast love to roses,
Shakespeare's told us;
Can't compare eyes to stars,
Lips to petals:
To say,
Your soft, white skin
Is an ink-black sin.
And Beautiful should not
Be used as such.
If one must use it,
One needs
A thesaurus.
Thee, Thine, and Shall
Have taken their toll;
Like Death,
Be not proud.

Be the chosen one,
You know how.

Words and phrases
Are replete;
Too well known
Not to repeat.
They're in
Our vernacular
To be used by
Any author.

But verbatim
Copying's outlawed.
The copy cops
Finger-print
The frauds.

Raymond was strapped in grade four.
Reportedly told a kid to *******.
True heresay.
This happened a while ago.
He could'a been stood against the board,
With his nose in a circle for thirty minutes.
(Lines were always a waste of everyone's time)
Could'a stood him at the back for the morning,
Or out in the hall, or suspended,
Later expelled.
He could'a been fired and unemployed,
******* and unsocial,
And, again, later, crooked.
True heresy.
Then we tell him to *******,
Which we should've done first,
And left it at that.

A lame idea's not a knock
At ones who can't stand and walk.

My eight handicap's not a slur
To any falling short of par.

I repeat, Are you deaf or something,
Doesn't insult the hard of hearing;
It only means you're not listening.

If one's blind as a bat,
It's not a slight, it's not a fact,
It's just a phrase we humans use;
I've heard some used against the Jews,
And others we've unlearned to use.

We of habit and long of tooth
Aren't as bad as you may think
When overhearing oldies speak:
I'm just jittery when I'm spooked.

Our excessive sensitivity's daunting.
Nothing said's meant to be hurting.

How does all this sit with Whitey?
Yes, Whitey's what I said.
Should I mind that name?
Isn't it the same?
It's used to ridicule,
Exposing Whiteys as the fools,
By some who think they're far too cool:

     Whitey said so...
     Whitey did so...
     Whitey don't know...

This Whitey do know;
He don't like this ****,
Not one little bit, Brother;
And it makes me cottin-pickin ******
With the hypocrisy, Sister.

If Sallinger hadn't written Catcher in the Rye,
Or Lennon hadn't sung, Helter Skelter;
If we'd not met in August
Would I write this? This!
This counter-productive
Counterfactual.

What universe would unfold
If I had no match,
I wasn't a match.

If I stayed home;
You'd stayed.
History's a roll of dice.

Is this a good day to ask the question?
O, the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

I'll not wear a watch...
And you,
Had you gone to the bathroom
Before driving off,
Would you have returned?
Or if Disney hadn't turned my head,
I wouldn't wish so much.

I'm watching leaves blow
On my lawn;
Praying more blow off
Than on.

I was going to read,
"Death Comes for the Archbishop,"
But the cover gave it away.

They live a life of dissipation,
Take up space in every nation;
Denounce Science deliberations,
Hide the truth through litigation;
They emit no illumination,
Preach an altered fact narration.
They support, by oration,
The Elephant's abdication,
And neglect of obligation.

     They won't wear masks.
     Or wash their hands;
     Won't give six feet
     In their wasteland.

     They cry foul,
     They cry hoax,
     But they won't cry
     When you die, Folks.

When in the pasture
They don't offend;
We avert disaster,
When they're penned.

But that crusted crap
Is everywhere;
If not aware,
We step right in.
We'll scrape the pooh
To no avail,
The smell's
Stuck to our shoes.
We can't quell
The **** we're in.

There's one steaming
On my walk,
Leading to my door.
Leave your keys
When you leave,
That patty leads
To court.

The Internet's beset
With bullish threats;
Hard to miss
The patties here;
Our lives and much
That we hold dear,
Is shared and smeared
For all to read,
Milking us of privacy;
An abattoir,
It's piracy.
It's utterly insane.
They entice us,
Then enlist us,
Like leading
Cash cows
Down the lane;
Then tap
For one drop more.

Friends may offer
Cow pies
With an aromaticfluence;
They pressure you to choose:
Step right or left,
Then smear you with
Their cocksure *******.
What enemy
Could do less?

Shopped pixelled patties
Are reprehensible,
Making one
So susceptible:
You *****,
Then starve,
Then lose your hair
Until one day
You disappear.

We get caught up
In the flash,
Of all the stars
And fast cash,
But they have patties
Underfoot,
They slip and slide,
Get clean,
Then smirk.
We can smell'em
On those jerks.

There's a patty
At your boyfriend's place;
You're deep in it
If you're late.

There's a patty
At your girlfriend's  place,
And you're deep in it
If she's late.

Some patties
Are so well disguised
In the colours
Of lover's eyes.
Intoned in lover's lures.
But step in it,
They call you *****.

Some patties
Are good
At getting you high,
But one mis-step,
And you may die.

There's hidden patties
Lying within,
Crusted beneath
Veneered skin:
They waft with doubt,
Fear and longing;
Side-step that mass
At all costs.
Don't crack the surface.

You're better than
You think.

The Newfounlander,
Wrapped in her blanket,
Was laid behind the new shed.
The hole bled with water.
She rose as Lazarus,
Caked with dirt.
The shovel mixed her in with earth.
A Christian marker denoted the place
Where lovely Ete lay.

But the girls were coming home,
Unaware of the interment;
Katie asked George to dig,
But George had been a farm boy,
So Katie manned the *****.
She was bloated,
Washed and brushed;
Then viewed on her clean blanket.
The shovel was in the shed.
Crazy Katie took the family
To the Vet's for cremation.
George followed silently,
With ***** boots and blisters,
And not a whisper
To the sisters
That Mom's gone dog-gone mind.

You play three.
Me, seven.
Fifteen for two.
This is where I lose you.
Your phone vibrates,
You leviate
Sitting across from me,
Making me an unwilling audience
To all the drama.
You vibrate. Your shoulders droop
Like the gape-toothed village idiot.
You gesticulate,
Fading in and out
In a semi-conscious awakening.
You're trembling under stones
Sitting on your chest.
It shows in your tembling hands.
Twenty, for two...
Twenty-five, for six...
I overhear your child is truant,
Another wants a ride,
Another a car, doctor or lawyer.
You're shuffling in your seat.
Not to worry.
Affter the stones are lifted,
And you're properly pegged
In the stink hole, the game's over.
Thirty, for twelve and a go. Game.
So deal with it.

Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.
Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.
Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.
The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.
This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Canadian pulses beat taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.

Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honored among our dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Fading pulses played taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.

Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Fading pulses played taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.

Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Their love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among the dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Fading pulses beat taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.

Crosses white, poppies red,
Remember how, remember when
Pale petals fell from blooming roses,
And padded paths where freedom goes.

Fierce fires doused a would be hate,
To quench dry hearts, yours and mine.
Love and duty burned paper chains
That shackled in war time.

Wise eyes, bright minds, aged souls, young hearts,
Traded rockers for grassy beds;
Gave up gray for blue-black youth,
Now honoured among our dead.

The rose that's guarded by the thorn,
Against the reach of many hands,
Does the same in all God's lands:
Yet still the life sap flows.

This time of year is here again,
But remember how, remember when
Canadian pulses beat taps then.
Remembrance Day must never end.

Two ebon crows got drunk last night,
Pecked their way into a fight;
Feathers flew as they clawed and cawed,
Till the losing crow pulled a gun in spite.
The other bird flew off in fright,.
Returning with a murderous flock,
And circled the gunner, a fierce gamecock.
They fluttered and feathered in a spree,
Then flipped before two crows winged off.

They returned with hair from a dead man's chest,
And proposed the two should build their nest.

They fashioned tools from human fingers,
Framed the nest with human femurs;
Used two green eyes to glaze windows;
Make a two car garage from the nose.
Are these not two of the smartest crows.

Next they laid out the toes
As hinges to swing their doors closed.
Each crow brought back an ear,
To hang on hinges, front and rear.
They peeled off lips, once used to talk,
And paved a route as their sidewalk.
They  yanked out teeth like skilled SS,
To tile bathroom and kitchenette.
Lastly, they peeled back the skin,
And wallpapered their nest,
And lived within.

See what's achieved by two drunk crows,
Who settled their scores
After crow blows.

I enjoy driving slowly
Up Kathleen Avenue,
It brings out my
Split personality.

The sun strobes
Through pre-leaf spring;
I remember a boy
Twirling on the dance floor lawn,
Then called to the back,
To the used nail pile.

There's gratitude for the rain,
Splash in gutters;
The weeds will grow.
The spades, like naked stick-children,
Are heeled into mounds,
Beneath the dripping clothesline,
Far from his playful sounds.

I am me,
I was you:
My cryogenic memory
Thaws to resolve
We two.

Visions of crystal cobwebs
swept up in awesome lies;
ambergris whisked scentless
to a sea-streaked sky.

Watching the melting snow,
feeling clouds of fire,
hearing the orchestrated chime,
touching every liar.

Morning passed, blue's forgone
for a quiet afternoon;
vapours pulled at all my senses
towards the rising moon.

Faint southern lights soon faded
against the silent sphere,
no starry sky was witness,
to your smile beguiling sneer.

The smoke ring reminded me
Of the circus, a blue ring of fire
To jump through
With my oversized shoes.

Watering the vegetable garden
Created a sun-split rainbow
Landing on the sprouting treasures.

Driving past the golf course,
The arc of the ball reminded me of the sun,
Transcepting the sky,
Not knowing where it lands.

The dawn brings forth a choir
Of tree singers,
Calling to one another,
Acknowledging the symphony
Of different needs.

It's blooming perfect
Outside my head,
Where shortcomings
Are draped in green and blue;
So, I will think outside
Brain and skull;
I will get outside,
Outside, and cuddle
The raw simplicity.

Cult lickers are exclusive.
They're not black or brown,
But Greene with envy, marginalized at every turn.
They paid up for a briny Cruz, but came away infected.
They don't shut-up Gaetz, so the sheeple meekly escape.
They claim to be God-fearin', but they'll never cross the Jordan.
Like Graham crackers, they are dry, spineless wankers.
And if you've a limp Johnson, keep a stiff upper lip.

If Cupid's arrow
Hits a sparrow,
He 's blind.
That's  injustice.

I'm looking at branches
With baby buds
Waiting to bubble open
Above seeded and fertilized lawns,
Growing lush between our toes,
Soft beneath reclining heads
Interpreting whales and camels above.

Moons rise. Suns set.

Our first home
Was a skeleton with skin shingles;
Floors with no sounds;
Rooms with no emotions.
The car, all shiny and new,
Left an oil stain on the asphalt.

Wheels are turning.

My innocent, wide-eyed believers
Now share the same blameless lies
With innocent, wide-eyed believers.

Suns rise. Moons set.

Don't eat that or drink this.
Roll up your sleeve.

Astronauts blasted off for the ISS
Wearing masks.
Before their return,
We will cut, rake, bag and burn.

I remember when
Cutters
Only left tracks
In the snow.

Cynthia's gone
Across this universe.
And, if there is a heaven,
She'll never have
To deal with Lennon.
He called her Cyn,
A name with
Quite a homonym
For deeds that once
Defined him,
Before he was
A man.

His drag-line pals
Called him Jemmy,
The little man
From Ireland.

Jemmy thought
Himself quite clever,
Cursed at us
With what you'd never
Call your own
Inside your home:
You're an ejit,
An egot, a clod,
A sod, a fool,
As useless as ****
On a bull.

When Jemmy got
Right roaring ******
(Something he would seldom miss),
He hissed:
Ya pissmire.
Eyes burning cold red fire.

Thus was Daddy
Endeared to us.

His wit was keen,
Quick as mean,
Evasive
As the charming fiend
Bellying out of Paradise.

His viscious,
Veracious
Flicking tongue,
Left not knowing
The damage done.

I present as a strong figure,
A father who is decisive,
Fair and consensual
To the point of sacrifice.
I overheard:
     Don't worry. It's only Dad.
Well, that's not quite true.
I'm not belly-aching,

How many picture frames,
Or video clips
Will you find me in?
Who held the camera
For twenty years?
King Hamlet knew:
Remember me.

You should know
I have the feelings
Of the aggregate.
We share fear.
I know you're afraid. Me too, but
You learn to live with it,
And sensitivity is a strong potion.
I see reflections of my eyes in yours.
You're easily hurt.
I hide this one.
You're learning to do the same.
Can't blame you, but fair warning:
The benefits and disadvantages
Are equally weighed.

No doubt we've been involved
In abandonment and lonliness.

Being sensitive,
You overthink everything.
Don't.
It causes worry;
Worry begets worry.
Too much time worrying.
It's an emotional overkill.

***** me, I bleed.

Dads are sentient
Under shining armor.
You can tell by the chinks.

So many signs slip by.
The big ones, like stigmata
And the leaves changing
Are easy to spot.
If not, if missed,
The sun still shines.
Other signs will surprise us,
Births, texts, disappointments, so ons;
But before the sun fools me again,
I'll perceive the smile,
The whisper and whisp of eyes
While the spin continues
Revealing the daily signs.

I knew her in youth's folly;
The fumbling hands,
The tumbling wills,
The limbs entwined kind of peace;
The dinner glances,
The unbridled dances,
Commando skirts,
Deep knee squats,
What one thinks
But will not say.

I've screamed into an empty barrel,
Ran barefoot where I shouldn't,
Slid rusty things under my nails,
Touched my eyes with sharp sticks,
Ground my teeth with electric power,
Scorched my skin beneath the shower,
Turned informer on closest friends;
Drank turpentine and kerosene,
Mercury and gasoline,
Tore my skin, rend my entrails,
And other parts clearly unseen.
Include, if you wish,
An immortal soul.
My spirit, ****** as well.
Call the prayer, sound a bell.
That was heaven,
Now is hell.

The shoreline
Has noticeable variations
After years
Of indistinguishable ripples
People wade in.
Roots are exposed;
Groins vanish under
Undulations;
A scenic road slips
Stone by stone
With waves of regret
And nausea,
Falls of remorse.
**** it all.

I want to dance with you again,
Before the light descends;
Dance, the troubadour sang:

     Dance me to the end of love.

Place yours in mine,
We'll wind with time;
Repose your head, close your eyes,
I'll hear you breathe another goodbye.
Can't you dance with me again.

I'm spinning off this elliptic world;
Holding the dark side of my moon,
Orbiting 'round this star lit room.
Waxing on the upbeat,
Waning on the down,
Dancing on a gyroscope,
Through phases round and round.

I awaken, tapping toes,
And humming in the after glow.

Yes, I danced with you!
Did I dance with you?
I didn't dance with you.
And never will again.

So, you're a dreamer.
You dream of being a celeb
Who's chased and snapped,
Emulated, envied and rich.
That's a lovely, although
Common dream.

Why dream
Someone else's
Dream,
When you can choose
Your own unique
Future.

We don't have conscious,
Sub-conscious, or,
Unconscious control
Of our dreams.
This time,
You do.

Dream to be a
Bricklayer,
And build others'
Houses of dreams.

Dream to be a
Cop,
And help others escape
Nightmares.

Dream to be a
Farmer,
And feed billions
Of hungry spectators.

Dream to be
Good parents,
And raise dreamers
And realists.

Dream to be a
Fine friend,
And take Selfies
Til your arms
Drop.

Dream to be a
Teacher,
Who brings
Others' dreams
To fruition.

So many dreams
To be had,
So many people
To fill them.

Never stop dreaming
Awake in
The real world.

My sleep is crowded
With recurring nightmares
Of failing Grade 12 French;
Standing naked and exposed;
Seeing the one you love
Love someone else;
The anxiety of an empty back pocket;
Swerving cars,
Crap falling from planes;
The inevitable chase and stumbling
Just ahead of the apocolypse.
The morning daymare news
Is definitely more frightening,
The end times more certain.

Kathleen, my little girl,
Just texted me.
She's in labor.
D-Day.
What a trooper.
Soft landing
To my first grandchild.

Birds,
Upside down
On a wire,
Tell us landing
Keeps you
Higher,
But you're better off
As an airy flyer.

Dear Dear:

I heard you're not well, and I'm sorry as hell. Nobody, not me, not anyone we know, could see it coming. Was it metastasized kindness with a primary worry; some say eroded patience and promises, a tightening of throat, are systemic symptoms of a body of hope.  I can send you the quote:

                               Drs. say excessive and extensive heart
                               failure is brought on by an over-exposure
                               to caring, and hence, is co-existent with
                               the rapacious spread of the disease.
                               Fortunately we've isolated the hosts.

I was sorry as hell to hear you're not well, and I asked,
Why you, not another?
But your immune to such an infectious question.
And Dear, I'm sad to say,  there's no remedy. You're  stricken with being a mother.

Once the fee fie fo fum *******
Stopped, he was small,
Lying still,
Eyes and lips glued,
Orifices finally stuffed.
What would a priest do?
So, I stretched my hand,
Ritualistic-like,
As a benediction of charity,
An attempt.
I should've worn a soutane,
Perhaps used a kneeler,
But suplication ended.

That night, I looked
Beyond the moon
To starry clusters of ka-boom,
But nothing.
That sealed it.
Death bed conversions
Don't move me;
Death bed confessions do.
Ah, still nothing.
Forgiveness has
A statute of limitations.

In the pitch of sleep
On a hot, humid night,
From a depth so deep
I woke in fright.
The overhead fan
Swirled the air,
The bedroom window
Was drawn and bare.
Out from the dark
I heard the scream
Penetrate and join my dream.
It slammed and splattered
On my screen,
An anguished cry,
An animal dies
Caught by a red-eyed predator.
I couldn't help but think
Of death,
Coming this November.

Be careful where you sit your ***,
Keep your kids off the grass,
Take a stroll but wear a mask,
Wash your food,
Avoid butter,
While you're at it,
Wash your water.
Slather toxins on our skin
That seep into our soul.
Death is all around us,
Don't say you've not been told.