Let me tell you something
That little varmint was afraid of your names
Too much power you had
To show him he he was nothing special
Another poet, what else ya gonne say? A place for him to stay if he could stay in his place
But he' already decided he's a heavy handful of poems wrapped up in his palm
He's not bad. But he ain't Shelly
Lord Byron he is not
So it's no surprise he comes here
With his terra incognito poetry
Starts the alienation process until five days later
They poked fun at my rhyme
The one I wrote about sweet momma? They laughed it to scorn, called it too sentimental
Each in turn found new ways to burn me
Until eventually
They all became voices in my head
And each voice recited one of my wretched poems and I could see I was only fooling myself
Group sessions didn't go so well
I read their poems, superior to mine in every way
I let thier voices tell me what they meant
And it wa comforting until I realized they were all about me and a vast conspiracy to drive me away
Normally I'd figure this out
But the voice began to be belligerent.
"Get out of here hack" , chanted with the insistant persistence of one who wasn't going anywhere until her will had been done.
I had no choice
They had taken up residence in my mind
Now I had to find a way to rid myself of them

CONTNUED NEXT CHAPTER in which somebody gets their way. Who? What? We'll have to wait to find out.

It
ain't
gonna
be
pretty!

Things that worry me
Is my vision steadily deteriorating?
I look at the iPhone screen in the dark with my glasses off
Is that enough?
Or must I factor in the harsh light from my lap top screen
And the screen on my Kindle HD-X
I will even on occasion watch the television screen
And a movie once every two or three months
But all those I wear my glasses for
It's mainly the iPhone at night I am concerned about
Like I'm doing right now

Let me tell you the truth
My cynicism has evolved into a meaner beast
There aren't too many people I want to get to know past "thanks for the money
God bless" and if you think I really care if God blesses you why then you haven't been paying attention
I can't seem to muster up a smidgen of compassion for anyone
It's been so long since I felt that special kind of affection for anyone
And though it's true that people are typically getting dumber much faster than they're wising up
I'd say it's a wonder we worry about it at all
Or is it all in my head?
Is the Ambien invading entire sections of my brain, one by one, the ones not totally massacred and eradicated by the last ten years onslaught with marijuana of various properties and potencies
I suppose I should level a fare share of the blame on the Great Communicator THC
BUT I'm not a lost cause
Not yet
Not today, I made it through the day
Tomorrow isn't quaranteed

And as far as you know
I'm just the quiet guy in the market
Not a word for anyone he runs into
Nope
Not a word
Thank God for the self -checkout
I may ***** you, it's true
But I'm harmless
Unless attacked
Then I'm a ******* raging inferno
Blessed with precision
I will drag you into my hell
And you will know what it's like to be me
Walking cloud nine in the pits of Sheol

Is there anything more boring
On this God forsaken planet
Than sitting through the graduation ceremony of a distant niece you have never, not even once in your life, spoken to?
Her parents are ultra-conservative evangelical Republicans who get all serious when Ted Cruz's name is mentioned
But I only know this via social media lurking
God knows I've done my best to avoid speaking to them as well
But a married man
One who honors his vows
Will do things for his wife that he would normally consider intolerable
It's not a sign of weakness, on the contrary
It makes him a stronger person
But it ****** sure ain't easy
The hours between 6:30-8:30 on this lovely Monday evening when the weather is conducive to a million enjoyable activities
I will be stuck on my ***
In a huge church the school has rented for it's capacity
Praying I don't accidentally pass gas

The Thorazine cocktail is a mean and nasty drink
Chemical sludge, black as hell's deepest dungeon
Enriched with the power of Mighty Thor's hammer
To smash your fragile brain pan and leave your senses numb
Belly up to the bar, boys
Jack Daniels is a school boy writing fifty time I must not
Jim Beam is a bully but he only picks on weaker spirits
80 proof ain't a ******* thang
Thorazine puts them all to shame
Explore new dimensions of bitterness
The Thorazine cocktail is a wrecking ball
You never develop a feel for it
No, it always tastes like half baked death
And smells a pungent metallic drift
Dead animals on the highway, rotting in the sun
Knock 'er back, Jack, drink it to the dregs
The dude in white thinks it's funny when you beg
You plead to take it away, how it's ******* with your head
You can't even remember what any of the voices said
You must be well, Old Jacky boy, don't need it anymore
Then again these things are weird, you can never be too sure
The dude with the cups seems to think it's not time
To kick it cold turkey, the order's been signed
So you might as well resign yourself
To the sledgehammer's blow this fine summer's eve
And shuffle away like a zombie
Hey look, that old John Huston movie about the Bible is on the television in the day room
It's just getting started, the creation scene like outtakes from the last ten minutes of 2001: A Space Odyssey
Isn't that a coincidence?
Doesn't that make a lot of sense?
Jack, you might as well be tripping on Owsley's personal stash

...or is it too late?
Who set you on this path to hell?
The same ones telling you "turn around"
Weren't they saying there's no turning back?
They'd have you believe it's much easier
Getting used to the idea of being ******
But you've seen the world from a different point of view
The truth is a misunderstood paradox
Being as far from the Eternal as you can possibly be
You swing the spiral to become closer than you ever were
Where the reality of I
Is neither blessed nor condemned
Caught in the short circuit
Where acceptance and rejection
Elicit the same response
Joy and sorrow
Indistinguishable

In the vast difference between what I wanted to be and what I am
The temptation is to count missed opportunities
To what extraterrestrial province has my Muse flown?
My legacy has been the evolution of an unhealthy obsession with death
A defiant ******* when plenty of years buffered from consequence
Getting used to the fear
Never forget the times I was high on potent hydro and paranoia kicked in
I thought I'd be dead on the ground in a matter of moments
Those times I wondered what the hell was wrong with me in courting the Reaper
Slippery medications knocked me down, metaphorically and some of the fear
Is replaced by numbness and a desire to leave
Take me in my sleep, o Eternal One, just don't let me wake up
Alas I keep waking up
And it comes down to giving up everything I have and know
Totally submerged in amnesia
In hopes that what comes after will be better in it's unique way
No brain to process senses so you might as view them as the wave of the past
I'd pay for mental telepathy and full reign of an active imagination I helped create in this life
So in the chasm between what I hoped to be and what I am
The potential for hope, even miracles stockpiling and inventorying blessings
They have their own expectations
All too rarely amused but **** 'em
In that chasm life still conducts business
Handshakes are still exchanged
There's no reason to give up hope
In that vacuous cave death and joy do a dance, ambition sings a number with missed chances
Like me Charlie
Have you got a bowl of that hydro and a light?
I need the big reminder
Coming soon
Love sonnets to a young Linda Blair

I hear…I will…I do not understand, if you are speaking through me won’t you please make your presence known. If not, kindly show me to the door. Jolly rancher, jolly Rodger…Every rose has it’s burden, a shifting stone takes in all it has coming. A stitch to throw in a ditch saves just three under a dozen. Come in and care. Come in and make yourself at home. Come in here and cough up a phlegm-ball. Rest your weary head on my tombstone.

There’s a reason for all the things I do. Do you want to know what it is? One thing, and ONLY one thing: Pepto-Bismol. **** gets things done. That’s my excuse, pardon me, sir, if you don’t get it, you won’t get it you won’t NEVER *** it down in yer soul where it needs to be.

Never so young as you were that day. What a show. What a show. Pretty maids all in a row, fit to a one with tight trusses emblazoned. BUTNER BUTNER BUTNER! Three cheers for Butner. One big long cheer with corresponding slutty ***** dancing routine thrown in for free. From your friends in Butner.

They ate that right up. Didn’t even have to spoon feed ‘em. They’z musta bin reeeel hungery. Sure thought mine was special.

And it was.

Take my pick, that’s the schtick. Maybe the doll in the unwashed dreadlocks? Maybe the gal with the go-hero pout. Maybe the one with the sad dropping eyelids? Maybe the ***** with the genital itch. Maybe the ***** with the venereal sore. Maybe the **** with the cellulite ****.

Or maybe the tiny, mousy mouse of a sprite, never had love look her in the eye, that stuff only makes a man wonder why. Hair shorn short and shut out the lights or you will never see that incredible aura and glow she dwells in like a bubble. She’s the one to choose. She’s the one, you can’t lose, you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain, how can I make it more plain? You’re gonna get wet if it rains and I haven’t got time for the pain, Strange Woman. MY woman.

Make some plans for a one night stand I’m a dope smokin’ man and I sure get around and my life revolves around Strange Strange Women. Strange customs. Strange habits. Strange ideas of just exactly how incredibly Strange they actually are. I’ve got mine, now you go get yours. We’re hookin’ up at the dance.

Dilly dance, dance of the week, American Bandstand dance and you didn’t like the words but it’s got a good beat so you give it an 85. You could dance to it.

Such was my hope. Twas to be my destiny, if luck stayed tucked in my pocket I was fittin’ to be gittin’ my share o’ what I got comin’…

…and I did.