Today, my Jewish brothers and sisters
in the greatest city on Earth
were gunned down by a man
poisoned with hatred,
that bitter hit of political rage.
Tonight, imperfect souls will gather
to hug and weep and scream.
As we gaze upon so many fierce tears,
I pray we absolutely never
go quietly into that goodnight.

-Ron Gavalik

I've met many men on sidewalks,
at jobs, in bars and cafés.
Some of these men held
strong principles. Others
sold their minds and bodies long ago,
usually to rather low bidders.
Of all these men of youth and age,
colors and religions, I still prefer
my own company the most.

-Ron Gavalik

The best poem
came to me last night
while shaving.
I didn't write it down,
and now,
much like the shaving cream
that slithered down the drain,
those words are gone.

-Ron Gavalik

I really have no idea
how anyone can love a writer.
We're great observers,
but terrible people.
Marry a carpenter or a welder.
They know how to build
things worthy of your heart.
All a writer can do is howl
at the moon in madness
and chase the dreams
that never come.

-Ron Gavalik

I often have no clue
what words will come
when pouring blood
onto the page.
The soul has a life
and a will of its own.
Sins and truths, much like smoke,
live in the surrounding air.
They wait for someone
to inhale.

-Ron Gavalik

Everything is better when drunk
on whiskey and ginger ale.
Paying bills, *******, music,
even listening to the screams
of former lovers curse you
into damnation.
Fashionable liars prefer beer.
Poets who write in meter
and rhyme, they drink wine.
I am not most poets.

-Ron Gavalik

A guy in a suit at the bar
cracked an unfunny joke.
It was the kind of joke
only office drones understand
or find amusing.
His buddy spit out his whiskey
from the involuntary chuckle.
The guy said, ‘Hey, man,
you’re wasting perfectly good scotch.’
I thought the joke was a waste
of perfectly good words.

-Ron Gavalik