She meekly chased after
nonexistent moonbeams
  in rose fashioned pipe
       dreamt illusions,
as visual stimuli to
        rock her existence
of inklings' stark impressions
  inciting some exertion
       in her bland universe,
she was ever so ordinarily dull
even her reflection in the
    deepest sapphire seas,  
  appeared as drab dishwater
she lived in a world of her
   own fabricated deception
still, she wondered why every
   impaled consequence was an
   arranged shade of washed-out gray

They say the grass is greener
On the other side
Which makes me wonder what color grass they see
When they look at mine

People are never satisfied
with their token hue,
gardens perceive many views 'neath blue moons
yet still seek to plant their own rose colored seeds


But with the hand of seed comes a heart in need
To plant where they will thrive
And when we look at our lives deep
We see a parched land much too dry


Upgrading new playgrounds 'tween picket transplants
only proves to drain emotional fence posts,
there's no satisfaction in elevation's turf ventures
proof grows amuck the dark sod of every plot perused

Trump's next speech - -

**We the people,
aside of me
believe in order
to convince
a perfect union
only the rich
deserve to survive,
will give each and
every citizen
fifty bucks if they
don't let Latinos in

You spoke adamantly of gentle courage
     and sharing spring's flourished nectar,
the swooning rhythm of swaying trees
   and the easeful breezes that flow
     'tween endearment's sensibilities,
misty moonbows 'neath dusk's stormy skies
     lavender sunsets midst rosy horizons,
affectation surging amid life's turmoils
     wallowing in self indulgence &
the harmony of olive branch surrender
    and thrumming heart strings of patience,
it was then I comprehended, darkness doesn't
   last a lifetime when lit by love's fortitude

The irony of writing poetry,
  when life's a comic book...

Fill my glass
  of vintage
    pleasures,
  top it til the
bubbly overflows,
   as memoirs
    & recollections
    effervesce
     beyond lucid
         drunkenness,
   hungover midst
       an endless
         toasting of
            intoxicated
               sensibilities

There's a lunatic in my mirror.