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Oh hear me now
dear world at odds…
Bare witness individual ethnic mobs…
Take my words both mythic and literal,
your walls of Eden are hardly impenetrable
Open up your heart my long lost friends,
give peace and love a new way in…
Next Spring I will move.  The Wisconsin
winds will sweep me from this house
of yours where I no longer belong.

You climbed the lattice of the cold
Winter.  I was your bounty.  Now
I can leave the brown sugar color
of this apartment. There are scrapes
on white walls from your wheelchair.

The family will not care and for that,
I will not ask.  

I am through writing thank you notes
and receiving the few callers who
patted me for your loss.

Spring is too far away for intimate
details.  The shaking tree limbs
will be quiet and the annual
equinox will welcome new growth
and knitted sorrows.

We were an uninvolved lot,
the children and you and I.  

So I will write again
on my calendar.  No one will ever
remember that it was I who took
your hand,

your heart,

your suffering

to the last
quiet sigh.

Caroline Shank
I jumped,
right in,
this black hole,
of solitary,
It’s nothing,
like the game,
of solitaire,
we’re not,
playing with,
cards here.
I held,
my breath,
and avidly,
did I,
long for,
I rolled,
the dice,
and begged,
don’t be,
snake eyes.
Let me,
slither away,
to freedom,
and possibly,
I’m not playing,
a game,
I just,
to hit,
 Aug 3 Ken Pepiton
He just wrote it.
He buried himself in words.
He didn't need paper to succeed, he just flew
in an airplane suspended by thoughts-
not his, but big strong thoughts-
he flew,
upon letters of recommendation
and capital sentences:
to jump his bail, fly the coop, escape from jail.
He folded his passion in life ori-gami,
gave it some ****** with his mind,
and off it went,
finding some draft in the stale and lifeless air.
He lept off the cliff, and what luck-
He flew.
Precipitation perpetual loss
Fragrant thoughts that seem so lost
Rain comes thunder hear my pain
One lost soul remains the same
Wondering if I’ll feel something again
Precipitation potential loss
Wanderlust lost its touch
Damage caused by jealous hearts
Karmic laws protect us all
Should I reach out for it all
Knowing that I still may fall
Or should I choose to run away
Away from the vanity traps and dark games
A competition fit for hell
Only one winner will come out
A wicked way to view yourself
To only see one side of the picture
And not see beauty in all of life
Fake propaganda hidden messages
New world order who would have guessed it
A second coming who got rejected
Then called an enigma machine
Controller dominating the scenes
Rebellious until the very end
If you want my soul your out of luck
I cannot give you want you do not deserve
You can try to fool me but now I know my worth
It’s in between the in between
It’s in the ups and downs and all of me
I love the very core of my being
And that will your end you see
I’ll let go of your thoughts of me
To release the pain and think of pretty happier things or memories
I’ll transmute your hate into something else
But if you come back to hurt me twice the second time I won’t be so nice
Precipitation perpetual loss
This time round I don’t feel quite so lost
Lost in the insanity
Our road has not been straight, my love.
It has not been an easy journey.
Our path was filled with barriers
And led through lands of many dangers.

Sometimes our shoes grew worn and thin
From trudging through the obstacles
And it would have been much easier
To stumble to our knees and fall.

But one of us was always strong
When the other’s strength diminished
Though there were times we could have quit
We clambered up and moved along.

We now float calmly in still waters
Knowing that our craft is strong
As we at last enjoy the sunsets
And listen to the nightbird’s song.
Sometimes love wears thin, but it never disappears.
Fragments of art
float just outside
the reach
of my furious
snapping claws

Picture art
dressed in letters
at my noisy
axial scrabbling
if you can't mind your own business
how in the hell could you
Mind the Gap?

we're being had over
we're drowning in *******
and being told that
we're living in clover.

There will come a time
( yet again )
when the peasants will revolt,

Book of life.

it's like someone's turned the pages
and we're back in the middle ages
doffing our caps
and yes,
minding the gaps
gasping till death
because they've taxed our breath

I'm going fishin' and not going mad
and we are
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