I like making
plans I know I won't make,
I just like they're there.  
It's sort of like how we prepare
in our cars with airbags.  
Sometimes we thank God
they're there.

I like waiting at
bottoms of skyscrapers to catch
cripples' stares on stairs.
It's living up to a dare
trying to walk with one leg, one
crutch going up, look at their
Stares on stairs.

It wasn't a hippy
in tie dye that gave me
that squabbled piece of peace.
It was a horrid beast
who claimed I was the first
to not shoot, he gave me his last
Piece of peace.

I didn't like the tone
of his voice when he said
you can't bare the bear
Even outside the lair
you'll shave his fur and run your
hands in your hair, you
can't bare the bear.

I have years of your
wind pattern because my
vane detects vain in your veins.

She said I deserved to dance with the angels
and that she didn't cut it.  With her I'm
just paper so she cuts it for me.  I guess she
thinks she is backwards left handed kindergarten
scissors trying to cut freezer burnt
ground beef.  Even if she is, I like
when she tries to slice through me in her way,
even if she gets really good and gets me halved through and through

It's that time when all
the 20th century people die and
when the congressmen and senators
do not pick up the phone while the citizen
barbarians aren't dialing a retreat and looting
every major bank, grocery, purse,
pocket, wallet, and electronic device, shooting
their way through the movie lines
so they don't have to camp out for three days
to get tickets to see how to fight guns with guns,
war with war, and fire with fire.
Stand your ground, your neighbor might be up to
some crime even if they have halos
on their heads during the full moon on Friday the 13th.

Love is when she draws a smiley
face on your nut-sack with
your favorite red pen that you used
to take notes with during your anatomy class,
she used the last drop of ink there.  
After-all, I have to be ready for
the snow or I'll turn into
snowman she says.  
Love is not when you wake up in a ditch
and have dark red splashes
on your hands and chest. your girlfriends
keys are in your pocket and she's
nowhere to be found, only her favorite shirt
you got her for Christmas.

You can make your pockets
more extensive when you run out
of pocket.  You can raise your ceiling
with wood and nails while I wear pants
with holes and live below sea-level.  

You can bail out and mail out
free of charge. You can even speed
all you want down the highway, cops
know your license plate from heart by now.  
You took mine on the spot, you
said you smelled *** and had dogs in the truck.
I said, "****"

I've been passed my luck, missed
Noah's rainbows by only one
mark. You're the power behind luck
and create your own *** of gold.
That's my money too man.  I settle for
the turkey and ham dust
after your slicer has had its run.

That silly flood made me
Tread all the way down
Here.  
Political pensions over.
Spent on pens and ties.  
Bipartisanship is basically
A commandment now.  They’re
Only there because they have to be, I say.  
They would send relief,
Should I wait a week so the
Check don’t bounce? I
Know how that goes. They
Got a profit on us anyway.
They’re checkbook turned to
Chicken scratch, more like chicken ****.
We’ll see how that goes.
At least I got time to locate
My house that floated off its
Hinges a few miles south.  


*Note: these next poems I’m posting are going to be more political because it’s a project I am writing for a conference.

I think I may love you
but not in the wedding
fashion but in the sheep drapped
On my neck sort of way, or
maybe how clown fish feel
for the barrier reef. You made
me promise I wouldn't be your Judas,
I agreed as long as you weren't my
Jesus. We never realized Pontious Pilot
and his means when he washed his hands
of us and gave us some wood and six nails to
go around while asking everyone what they thought.
They said our love would be
hammered together while we hang here for awhile.