here they go again , these experts
telling us things to sadden the heart:
game may not be that safe to eat
running river water is never a treat
for it carries upstream decadence

here they go again, these stuffed-shirt experts:
water is two to one hyydrogen and oxygen
boiled, the oxygen steams away into the air
and your cappuccino has a hydrogen flavour
we endanger our lives when it we drink and savour

here they go again, the learned heralds of demise
they tell us that nothing we can ever devise
can avert the armageddon that's surely coming
the entropy or second law of thermodynamics
transforms physicists into latterday prophets

here they go again on prime media, the erudite experts
talking about free radicals, anti-oxidants, titanium utensils
and the havoc that excess proteins, fats and carbohydrates can cause
it’s time to go puritan and vegetarian in this new poisonous present
where fun is frowned upon and barbecues are a deadly pastime

in this age of dietary enlightenment and forced moderation
we must eventually go raw in our cuisine and be natural about it
or perhaps be as creative as possible before the nutritionists come in
to tell us how not to cook our food and how not to eat it
living was great fun before this age of detoxification and cancer!

My car is in the bat cave,
The lower chamber's lit;
All the doors are locked,
The drapes don't leave a slit.
I'm in here all alone,
Haven't shaved for days;
My fingers need attention,
My bed is like my grave.
There's dishes in the kitchen sink,
The refuse starts to stink.
I'm underground.
No calls, no texts, no tweets.
I have my bread and butter,
If only I could eat.
I have a need to peek outside
Where the living own the streets.
I'm better off than dead,
I'll rise up from this sleep;
Don't call my name
To call me forth,
At present I'm too deep.
When time is ready,
And I'm steady,
I'll push aside the lid,
Walk from this crypt,
Abandon ship,
And bask in light above.

you can preach to the choir but I never feel a a note
coming from your own throat.
trying teaching with your stomach instead of your hands
be a little less removed, a little less "improved" -
it's not a bridge until you build it
either start laying bricks or light the match.
if i catch you saying sticks and stones will break my bones
but words will never hurt me one more time, i might just
punch you in the gut.
that's where my words come from
that's where i feel every phrase that's real
come reeling through and keeling over
i'll share these words with you.
just cause they ain't polished don't make them less true.
stop preaching
start listening
then maybe I can, too.

sitting, contemplating trends
considering trending
in the popular vernacular
#*** #longhairdontcare
Did you read hashtag?
Did you read number?
#number

Endless love
Held on fingertips
Waiting to caress your cheek

Confession of love
Lingering on my lips
To dance with yours they seek

To sit within loves presence
often

acknowledging the reality
of loves solicitude

for all the tiny details sake
in the journey of life

the oasis within all deserts
to refresh the weary traveller.