Weak Poem

"All of my friends they now are dead"
Bare and Blatant I suddenly said
I said its true in the middle of a party
They just all left and went home to bed

Back in the time when it was previous
I talked and I forgot to be devious
I had many friends with which I could be
It ****** People off who were jealous of me.

They wondered how it was we could be so close
And made remarks that it would just not last
But my friends didn't mind and neither did I
Was just living my life and they all were kind.

But time it passed and the future would unfold
My brother died in a wreck and that sure foretold
Like a flashy neon sign of things to come
I drove fast, not home, but to a certain someone

I said my brother had died in an airplane wreck
She said she cared but the others didn't say.
So then I went home and I felt blue that day
Crying and dying's what I remember it's true.

That was a sign my life would start to unwind
Passing then killing all of my rhymes
People who should have been there for me
Their memory is now buried under some tree.

My future wife had a niece that away just passed
My business friend's dad got cancer and passed.
Jim's Agent Orange poisoning killed his ***.
Another Jim died from the sun cancer on his scalp.

As bad as that was were every last friend
My marriage ****** them all off bad in the end
They hated on me and said that now I was dead
They never woudl speak to or see me again.

I could go on and on about my church going friends,
Most of them I never did see again.
Try as I might to regain my life
All die you see and all that's left is fright.

Night after night when you're always alone.
Not much to do, you just Bored and gone Old.
all the dead friends that you've left behind,
The living one's silent. Spend each night. Alone.

mgm weak poem. 1/16/2016

Waxing lyrical, a poet friend enthused:
the world is an oyster if you're looking for pearls
Going similarly lyrical we can say:
the world is a jungle if you're looking for lions
the forest is a cold room if you're looking for game
the sky is a blue heaven if you're looking for a haven
the world is a shopping mall if you're looking for bargains
the world is a dealers' market if you're looking for a ****
and life is an onion that you peel and sometimes weep
when you miss out on wild parties and pleasure trips

I am the queen of what ifs
Sitting on a throne of could've beens

My fears are my loyal subjects
Escorting my dreams to the gallows

My ambitions are now prisoners
To my court of procrastination

I, the queen
Reign over all of this regret

Person for sale

Able to:

Breathe quietly
Talk when needed
Wear acceptable clothes on work days
Use transport facilities in a timely fashion

Willing to:

Spend time with people
They don’t like
Set aside any feelings of
Boredom
Restlessness
Apathy
Disinterest
Disillusionment
Malais­e
Fatigue
Stress

And feign:

Interest
Enthusiasm
Concern
Delight
Contentment
Joie de vivre
Passion
Commitment

Willing to:

Sit stoically
In front of a square screen
Sending typed messages back and forth
Quietly count the days, months and years
As they tick by
Cover unsightly grey hairs
With unnatural dyes (at personal expense)
Spend hours in the same rooms with the same people
Use communal toilet facilities
Sit on trains
Day after day
Use caffeine and sugar
As the acceptable drug of choice

Prepared to scream out in silence
When it all gets too much

Person
For
Sale

Roll your mesmerizing eyes
Like you’re some out-of-this-world creature
Waiting to be in that lovely magazine feature

Roll your eloquent tongue
Like the pizza is heavenly cuisine
For the high table at the messianic banquet

Roll your rich undulating body down the street
Like you’re a cask of articulate wine with body and bouquet
And step out like one that’s caused some beauteous dismay

With the exquisite allure
Exuded by your bubbling personality bathed in mystic aura
That’s forever in evidence in your metaphorical salt licks

Where those who want emotional nourishment and equilibrium
Seek to be satiated without risk of odious opprobrium
From the curse of attention from despicable grovellers

Then roll and rock to the beat of a classic song of intimacy
Like the theme and melody were created just for you; and to
Break the hearts of the faint-hearted many lying along your way

To the peak of hypnotic arrest in the folds of time
Where those whose lazy silence slew them are forgotten
Like they are the discarded wretches of obsolescence